Page 62 of Toxic Temptation (Krayev Bratva #1)

KOVAN

Vesper walks through the door at quarter to eleven that night looking like death warmed over.

Her scrubs are wrinkled and stained. Her hair hangs in limp strands around her face. Dark circles shadow her eyes, and her skin has that gray pallor I’ve seen on corpses.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m sorry I missed Luka’s bedtime.” She doesn’t even acknowledge my question. “There was an emergency surgery. I tried to get here sooner, but?—”

“How did it go?”

The color drains from her face completely.

“Bad. Really bad. Little girl, seven years old. I’ve been treating her brain tumor for three years.

” Her voice cracks. “Tonight, we were supposed to remove it. The surgery was always risky, but…” She stops talking.

Her whole body shudders. “I lost her on the table.”

“Jesus, Vesper?—”

I move toward her, but she steps back like I’m carrying a disease. We both freeze.

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s nothing behind them. Like someone turned off all the lights inside her head. Like she’s not really here. Like she’s not really herself.

“I need to shower.” She can barely whisper. “Excuse me.”

She drags herself up the stairs. Each step looks like it takes everything she has left.

I want to follow her. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her it’s not her fault. The need to touch her, to comfort her, burns in my chest.

But I don’t move.

I can’t.

Because wanting to comfort her means I care. And caring about Vesper Fairfax is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.

Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty. I pace the foyer until I can’t stand it anymore. And then…

Fuck it.

I charge upstairs and push open her door without knocking. She’s curled up in bed wearing one of my white t-shirts, her wet hair soaking the pillow. Her knees are pulled to her chest, and she won’t look at me.

But her eyes still have that sad, haunted quality. And the moment I see it, I know I can’t turn away.

“Vesper.” I close the door behind me. “Look at me.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t do this tonight, Kovan. Whatever you want to talk about, can we just not?”

“Not what?”

“Talk. Fight. Pretend.” She swallows. “I can barely think straight right now.”

I walk to the foot of the bed. “Tell me about her.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise. She’s not expecting me to poke the wound. But I’ve had experience in this department. Ignoring the pain very rarely helps it disappear.

“Talking about it helps,” I say. “Trust me.”

She stares at me for a long moment. Then the words start pouring out.

“She collected coins. What seven-year-old collects coins? She loved Alice in Wonderland and prayed every night for her parents to have another baby. Not because she wanted a sibling, but because she wanted them to have someone left when she was gone.”

Her voice gets smaller with each word.

“She knew she was going to die, Kovan. No matter what I told her, no matter how positive I tried to be, she always knew. She talked like she was seventy years old instead of seven. No kid should have to be that wise.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” Tears stream down her face. “Feel sorry for Mark and Beverly. They just lost their only child, and I—I couldn’t save her. I promised them I could save her, and I failed.”

She breaks down completely, sobbing into her hands.

I climb onto the bed and pull her against my chest. She doesn’t fight me this time. She just cries until she’s empty.

When the tears finally stop, she pulls away and grabs a pillow, clutching it between us.

“You did everything you could,” I tell her.

“I know.” She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “It just never gets easier, though. Losing someone.” Her eyes drop to the pillow in her lap. “Losing my father was the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

“I know.”

“After he died, I became someone I didn’t recognize. Angry. Bitter. Weak. I hated everyone, including him. I stopped answering my phone. When people came to my apartment, I’d turn off the lights and pretend I wasn’t home. I didn’t speak to my mother for months.”

She takes a shaky breath.

“I almost quit medical school. I actually called the dean to withdraw. If he hadn’t been my dad’s friend, if he hadn’t convinced me to take a gap semester instead…” She shakes her head. “I would have thrown my entire life away.”

“You’re stronger now.”

“I thought I was.” She finally meets my eyes. “Until I met you.”

I feel the tug of something unfamiliar in my chest. “I know I scared you last week,” I start. “The shooting?—”

“I’m a doctor, Kovan. I’ve seen gunshot wounds before. I’ve seen people die in ways you can’t imagine. I don’t scare easily.” She folds in on herself. “But I was terrified last week. Because despite everything I’ve done to stop it, I care about you. I care about Luka. And that bullet…”

She can’t finish the sentence.

“But it didn’t hit anything vital.”

“Half an inch to the left and it would have ruptured your lung.”

“It didn’t.”

“You got lucky.” Her hands clench the pillow tighter. “Don’t you understand? Whether you live or die comes down to luck. That’s it.”

“I’m not that easy to kill.”

She gives me a look that’s pure heartbreak. “Everyone’s easy to kill, Kovan. I see it every day. No one is invincible. Bodies are fragile. Death always wins.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.”

She smiles sadly, disbelieving. “I had a plan when I agreed to this deal,” she mumbles. “I was going to keep my distance. Stay professional. But that plan is ruined because I can’t stop caring about you. And I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

A year ago, those words would have sent me running.

Now, they still do. But running toward her. Not away.

“I made it out alive,” I tell her. “I’m fine. I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

“You can’t promise that.”

I exhale and fold her hands in mine. “I’ve told you before that my brother believed in fate.

He used to read horoscopes and talk about how our futures were written in the stars.

I always thought it was bullshit, but…” I pull up my shirt, showing her the Sanskrit tattoo running down my ribs. “You know what this means?”

She shakes her head.

“ Ananta . Infinite. I got it with Vitalii after our father died.” I guide her finger to trace the letters. “I may not believe in fate, but I believe in myself. I’m not going to die while Luka needs me. I’m not going to die while you need me, either.”

Her chin trembles. “What if I never stop needing you?”

There it is. The future I’ve spent my entire adult life avoiding.

Love has always felt like a weakness. Something that gets you killed.

But looking at her now, with tears in her eyes and my shirt hanging off her shoulders, I want that future. I want the rings and the vows and the life that comes after this mess.

“Then I guess I’ll have to stick around.”

She starts crying again, but these tears are different. Softer.

I wipe them away with my thumbs. “Better?”

She nods and sinks back against the pillows. “Will you stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She falls asleep within minutes, her fingers wrapped around my hand, her breathing slow and even. I lie there staring at the ceiling, memorizing the weight of her against my side…

… all while hating myself for making promises I might not be able to keep.