Page 27 of Toxic Temptation (Krayev Bratva #1)

His voice in the darkness takes on new layers and textures. It’s quieter, less threatening, but all the more dangerous for how trustworthy it seems.

“Just a bad day,” I whisper up toward the nothingness above me.

“I had to give a bad diagnosis. Then faulty equipment nearly screwed me over in surgery. And I ran into Jeremy in the hallway. I didn’t do myself any favors with how I talked to him.

” I sigh, but it barely helps my strained lungs.

“He’s gonna be hunting for reasons to fire me now. ”

“He’s not a problem you’ll deal with much longer.”

I feel my resolve softening as I roll over onto my side to face Kovan. “Do you really think you can get him off the board?”

“I can do that and more.”

I don’t bother asking what the “and more” might possibly mean. It will be enough to know that Jeremy’s not calling the shots at St. Raphael’s anymore. If he’s also wearing cement shoes at the bottom of the Bay… Well, as long as I don’t know about it, that’s not my problem.

“He was one of my father’s residents, you know,” I say. “He studied under Dad for years before becoming an attending himself. There was a time I actually liked the asshole, if you can believe that.”

“People change when money gets involved. The more money, the faster the change.”

“Is it worth selling your soul for?”

Kovan shrugs. “It’s easier if you don’t believe in souls. Or any of the baggage they come with: afterlives, heavens, hells. If the only world you believe in is this one, it’s easier to live without fear of consequences.”

I prop myself up on an elbow. “Deep. Who said that? Rumi? Gandhi?”

“Vitalii Krayev.” Kovan chuckles, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “My brother.”

“Oh. Right.” I give up all remaining pretense and sit up, letting the sheet fall from my chest. “He believed in the stars.”

Kovan snorts. “The stars. The fucking stars. Jesus.”

“What’s funny about that?”

“It’s ridiculous, that’s what’s funny. My big brother, pakhan of the Krayev Bratva, shrewd businessman, was into fucking astrology . He poured over star charts. Knew everything about every sign. Believed our lives, our futures, were written in the heavens above. Fool. Absolute damn fool.”

“I’m guessing you don’t agree?”

“I don’t believe in anything but myself.” His voice turns hard. “Nothing’s written in the stars. Nothing’s written anywhere unless you write it down your damn self. Life is what you make of it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

His words echo in my chest, filling me with heat and shivers alike.

“You must think I’m a cold, unfeeling beast,” he offers when I say nothing.

“Actually, I agree with everything you just said.”

Kovan raises his eyebrows. “A fellow pragmatist. We’re a rare breed.”

“Getting rarer every day.” My gaze goes to the constellation tattoo on his forearm.

I haven’t noticed it before, but now, with the moonlight catching it, it seems too delicate and beautiful to be on a man like him.

“But sometimes, I wish I did believe in something. Even something as stupid as a star.”

I’m not sure why I say it. Maybe because Kovan might understand.

“Because believing means you’d see him again,” he says softly, understanding effortlessly. “Your father.”

I bite my lip and nod. “I think that’s why his death hit me so hard. It wasn’t just the suddenness; it was the finality, too. It was knowing I’d never see him again. He was gone and I was alone. And nothing would ever change that.”

“You have a mother. And a brother.”

“And I love them both,” I agree. “But my father was my mentor, my hero, my best friend, my protector. He’s why I became a doctor. The irony of becoming a doctor just to watch my father die…” I shake my head, unwilling to go where the end of that sentence would take me.

“You think you could have saved him?”

“I know I could have. But it wouldn’t have mattered. He refused the liver transplant he was offered.”

“He turned down a liver?”

“Can you believe that?” All that familiar old rage surfaces, as fresh as ever, as though it was never gone, just lying in wait, waiting to find a sliver of room to rear its head again.

“Some people wait years for the right organ. Not everyone even makes the transplant list. And there was my dad, half dead, but still turning away a perfectly good organ because of some notion about not fulfilling his oath as a doctor.”

I’m not sure if it’s the moonlight slanting into the room or just a trick of the light, but Kovan looks troubled. “He believed that?”

“It’s what he said, at least, when he was still talking. I don’t know. He was a good man and a great doctor. He took every loss personally. I think it wore him down toward the end and he just gave up on us.”

Kovan studies me in silence. “You’re angry at him.”

I hide my face behind my hair for a moment. I feel too seen, too visible. “I love him. I miss him terribly. But yes, I hate him for leaving me. For not fighting to stay alive. For not accepting that chance at a few more years with all of us who loved him.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Kovan murmurs. “How we find ways to blame them for their own deaths.”

“Not that strange, no. Being angry is easier than being sad.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Even in darkness, they glow faint green. It terrifies me, but not for the reasons I once would’ve thought.

“How’s the armchair?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Lumpy and small.”

I pull back the covers, my heartbeat frantic and confused. “Just get in here. I can share. As long as you stick to your side.”

“Would it help if we built a pillow wall?” he teases, getting to his feet. “To make sure I keep my hands to myself?”

“I suppose I’ll just have to trust you.”

With a smile that makes my toes curl, he climbs in beside me. When was the last time I shared a bed with a man? A decade? More?

“Much better.” Kovan settles back, fingers interwoven behind his head. “I knew you were dying to sleep with me.”

I scoff, hiding my amusement. “You wish. Goodnight, Kovan.”

“Goodnight, Vesper.”

I spend thirty minutes trying to fall asleep, hyperaware of his heat beside me. It takes me a while to figure out exactly why.

I’m waiting for him to cross my boundaries.

I’m waiting for him to touch me.

I fall asleep waiting.