Polar Bear Boyfriend Borya (special preview)

“Who goes walking barefoot in the north?” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I suppose the education system implemented by your rulers came too late.”

I cut a dirty look to him as he comes to my side. He grabs my wrist, pulling me harshly and then removing the wrappings around my hand. He keeps my wrist still once the wrapping are off and he glares at me.

“Take a swing at me and I won’t be afraid to knock you to the ground,” Demyan snarls. “Got it, Prissy?”

My lips curls and I hold still. I pull my wrist back as he releases me. He unwraps my other hand and looks it over. 

“Fingers are fine too,” he stands up again. “You still are in no shape to go anywhere. You’ll stay here so I can keep a close eye on you.”

“I’m fine,” I huff, pushing the blankets away from me. “I can go if I want to,” I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t-” As soon as I try to stand, I crumble to the ground like a rag doll.

Demyan chuckles as he looks down at me. “What was that again, Prissy?” He asks. “You can go?” He motions to the door. “Yes?”

I snarl and prop myself up. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“You did that all by yourself?” Demyan stoops down and places me back into the bed. “You over exerted yourself, not to mention you almost died.” He tucks me back into bed. “I told you, you are staying.”

I snarl ugly words under my breath at him. 

I’m bedridden for the next few days. Demyan works in his hospital, coming back to make sure I eat and to check on me. Other than that, I am left alone in his awful little room. He leaves me books by the bedside, but I ignore them.

Demyan doesn’t seem like a healer. His approach is rough and his bedside manner is nonexistent. If I am a special case, I hate to see how he treats his patients on a daily basis. 

One afternoon a cub comes wandering into the room. I stare at them and they look at me. They’re wearing a dark blue coat that goes down to their ankles.

“Are you Prissy?” She asks.

I furrow my brow at her. “I’m Prisha.”

The girl smiles and she comes into the room and to my bedside. “My dad said I should check on you. I’m Annushka!”

I frown. “Your what?”

“Papa,” Annushka says. “Demyan,” she smiles up at me. “He was telling me all about how you were walking around during the storm. He said it’s a miracle you didn’t die.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “That asshole has a child?” I ask.

She frowns at me. “Papa isn’t an-” she hesitates and scowls. “He’s not that word. He’s a good person,” she grumbles.

I sigh and roll my eyes. “I’m just surprised her has a family,” I reply. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

Annsushka shakes her head. “We aren’t a family,” she says. “He and Mama aren’t together. Mama is married to Papa Borya.”

I try to suppress my smirk. “Well, isn’t that nice?”