Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

Sandro’s condition hadn’t improved; if anything, it had worsened. Arabella doubted it was due to the injury, which had already closed up two days since it happened. She had returned only yesterday to the room and found him sprawled on the bathroom floor.

Initially, she thought he had stopped breathing, given his lack of movement, until she checked his pulse. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she felt relieved. As much as she detested his behavior towards her, she was relieved he wasn’t dead.

“I hate this,” Sandro groaned, snapping Arabella from her thoughts. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and he opened his eyes slowly.

Frowning, he murmured, “Bella?”

“Yes,” Arabella said, placing her palm on his forehead to check his temperature. “How do you feel today?”

“Worse,” Sandro mumbled, attempting to sit up. His eyes stayed on hers for a long time, making Arabella conscious of what she was wearing. She had opted for one of Sandro’s T-shirts as she hadn’t had time to do laundry. Now, she wondered if it was the wrong choice.

“You’re wearing my shirt now but wouldn’t have anything to do with me,” he said, eyeing her up and down.

Arabella rolled her eyes. “Are we going to talk about my choice of outfit now rather than your health?”

“Must have been the injury I got from the fight,” Sandro groaned, lifting his shirt, but there was no injury there anymore.

“I don’t think so. I believe you came down with the flu,” she said.

“Flu?” Sandro snorted. “I’ve never been sick with the flu.”

“Well, now that you are, I want you to stay in bed until I know you’re not going to die on me.” She stood to her feet but halted as Sandro gripped her hand.

“Wouldn’t that make you feel better? You wanted me dead after all.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“I want to talk about it,” Sandro insisted. “You’re a Phoenix, Bella. Shouldn’t you have at least found a solution to my problems? I heard your tears are effective against any disease…”

“You’re suffering from the flu, Sandro, and I don’t cry unnecessarily. With a bit of rest and some medications, you’ll be fine,” she said, attempting to free her hands from his grip, which only tightened.

Groaning and glaring at him, Arabella asked, “Fine, what do you want from me, Sandro?”

He tugged on her hand, and she fell back to the bed. He pulled her into his arms, locking her in there.

“Sandro,” Arabella tried to free herself, but it was futile. The fact that he was sick didn’t make him weak.

Sandro leaned in, his hot breath fanning her neck. “Why, Bella? Do my hands disgust you?”

“Please stop, Sandro,” she whispered as his hands moved around her waist, stopping on her stomach. He caressed it for a while, her eyes shut, and she leaned into him. “Sandro…”

“How long do you want me to beg for?” Arabella’s eyes snapped open, and she twisted in his arms, her eyes locking onto his. “You never gave me a formal apology, Sandro, and getting me things, which I really appreciate, doesn’t mean I’m going to forget all that you did to me. Also, it doesn’t mean I’m going to start liking you.”

“Because you’re still hung up on him?” Sandro glowered.

“It wasn’t and has never been because of that. It’s because of you, Sandro, and I don’t want to go into this discussion with you just yet,” she said, successfully releasing herself from his grasp.

“But I want us to discuss it. What if I am dying now? Would you rather want the kids to become fatherless or agree to all that I am offering?”

Arabella shrugged, “Blaze did die once. It’s nothing new if you did too.” She started towards the door, not sparing him a second glance.

“That witch!” Sandro grunted before gripping his pounding head. “Why the hell is she mean to me?” He snatched a pillow, tossing it across the room. Almost immediately, Arabella stepped into the room, narrowly dodging the pillow. She glanced at the pillow, then at Sandro, her brows lifted. “Now you’re going to act like a pouty child?”

“I’m not pouting,” he retorted.

“But you are,” Arabella said, stepping towards him. “What’s in that?” He asked, peering at the tray.

“Soup and medication for you,” she said.

“I’m not interested in that,” he said, pushing it away.

“Well, why don’t you use your superhuman ability to make yourself feel better? Well, I guess you can’t. So take the soup and medication,” Arabella pushed it back towards him.

“I don’t want to,” Sandro wrinkled his nose as Arabella scooped the soup in a spoon, moving it to his lips.

“Stop acting like a child,” she said.

“I’m not acting like one,” he muttered.

“You are,” she replied. “This is to make you feel better. Also, you barely ate anything in the past two days.”

“I never knew you cared,” he said.

“I don’t; I just don’t want my children fatherless,” Arabella replied.

“That’s something, too,” Sandro shrugged before groaning as the movement he made caused his body to ache.

“Now, can you take this?” she asked, extending the spoon to his mouth again.

“Now that I know your feelings for me, I can,” he grinned.

“I don’t have feelings for you,” Arabella rolled her eyes. But she doubted Sandro was ready to listen. He continued grinning while nodding his head as if saying he knew she liked him and was lying.

Nevertheless, she was happy. At least he was eating. Also, his fever seemed to have lessened, and he was speaking more. A few minutes later, Sandro was done eating, and Arabella handed him the medication. Sandro shook his head in refusal, “I don’t need that, Bella.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” she asserted.

“Your presence makes me feel better,” he said.

“Stop flirting with me, Sandro, and take your damned medicine,” she narrowed her eyes at him, gripping his hand. Sandro wrapped his hand around hers, pulling her back to the bed.

“If anything, I want you beside me, Cara. I believe that will make me better in no time.”

Sandro fell back on the bed, pulling her with him as well. His arms wrapped around her, locking her in his embrace, while his legs clamped over hers, preventing any means of escape.

“Let me go,” she struggled in his arms.

“Why?” Sandro retorted.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“I am not comfortable.”

“I’ll make you feel comfortable,” Sandro whispered. His arms didn’t release her, and eventually, Arabella stopped struggling and just lay there until she heard him snoring.