Page 47

FORTY-SIX

Inessa

S itting on our bed that he’s slept in once, Vlad rocks me while I continue sobbing. There’s no comment about my snot, even though I know it’s probably soaking into his chest through his t-shirt. I blow out a watery breath to get myself under control. It takes three attempts. He doesn’t need to console me for knowing the truth.

My eyes burn as I look up and wipe at my face, but he stares at my nose.

“You missed a bit, meelaya.”

My laugh is all air, and it turns into sound when he continues.

“You’re developing a bad habit of using me like a tissue.”

Nodding as I sniffle, my voice comes out too quiet.

“I know. I’m sorry for going through your things, I didn’t have a right to invade your privacy when you don’t want anyone to know.”

Working with the kids at Steorra and Dr. Haigh, I know the damage it can do to force people’s trauma out. Make them relive it without warning and send them to the dark recess in their mind.

“And I’ll replace the carpet. I threw up on it.”

My offer is met with his chest shaking against my ear and he curls his lip between his teeth to stop the sound coming out.

His laugh brushes my skin as he kisses my forehead, and he acts normal.

“Is that what the smell was? I thought you’d bought a new perfume.”

He folds his arms around me as I swat his chest without any real heat. I love when he does it, cocoons me, and squeezes. It’s comforting even if it feels like a snake is coiling around my body.All my desire to protect him spans decades before I was even born, and I thread my arms under his to hold him with a silent promise.

I press my ear to his chest so I can feel his heart beating steadily and I try to match my sinking organ to the same pattern. Without the tears blurring my vision, I can see him clearly. There’s an angry red mark on his cheek, and my hand moves automatically. I wince as I touch it, like I can feel his pain, but he moves his face away from my hand and presses his lips to my palm. Warmth blooms in my chest, and I try to push everything else away.

My voice is haunted with what we’re ignoring.

“Did you win?”

He moves his head back, insulted and acting like an asshole.

“You think those fucking imbeciles could beat me ? Even with weapons?” Shaking his head, he repositions me so I’m straddling his thighs and holds my nape. “I’m the biggest fucking monster there is.”

I hold my breath as he pauses, and I fix on his twisted smile, knowing what’s going to follow will be horrible.

“I was a killer at seven. Over thirty years later, it hasn’t dulled that in me.”

My vision blurs again and I throw myself forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. Vlad rocks back from the force, and he tightens his arms around me.

“From pawn to king,” he whispers darkly.

His play on words are horrific. His need for shock value makes me shut down, it’s not a mental one. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Deciding on both, salty tears roll into my mouth as I laugh.

I’m not capable of doing anything other than apologizing and my whisper makes him harden.

“I’m sorry.”

He sighs into my skin as he kisses my shoulder, and there’s no lie in his voice.

“I don’t care that you’ve seen that shit, it’s had millions of views and downloads.”

He tries to soothe my anger at the sick fucking pricks enjoying his pain by stroking up my back. I do the same and cup the back of his head as though the pain is still there. He copies me and strokes my hair while I bite my lip to stop it from shaking. Then he gently pulls me away and there’s nothing but softness on his features for once.

“Are you okay, meelaya?”

Under all the bad is pure gold. He’s good underneath it all, and I hate that he had to become anything different to survive.

Cupping his face in both hands, I deflate, “I should be asking you.”

I focus on his lips, so I don’t see any demons haunting him, but he tips my chin up with his busted knuckles and speaks easily.

“Not really. That kid isn’t me, he died, and I was put in his place.”

I hate the world, I thought I’d never hate it more than the moments the groups of children are dropped off with a file. But it’s burning inside of me, and I can’t stop the venom coming out.

“Are they dead?”

I’ll hunt the fucker down and kill him myself if they aren’t.

He strokes my jaw and hesitates. The air in my lungs freezes at his low, emotionless question.

“Which video did you watch, meelaya?”

A part of me dies. There should never be an instance where this conversation has plurals. Once is hell enough. The gentle voice comes again, and Vlad smiles proudly, offering me an option.

“Was there blood on my face?”

I nod, matching his pride, and he laughs lightly, with satisfaction filling his icy eyes.

“That one’s dead. Took him a month.”

A month isn’t long enough, he should have spent his entire fucking life being eaten alive and having acid dripped into his dirty fucking dick. I don’t know why I ask for confirmation that I already have.

“There’s more?”

I hope the action comforts him like it does me as I thread my fingers through his hair and massage his scalp. The smile in front of me is nothing but warm and he lifts my hand off his cheek, kissing my pulse point on my wrist he strokes his thumb against my skin and more of me dies.

“I don’t know the exact number,” he says easily. Too easily, without any emotion or opinion on the topic.

My voice is steel, filled with murderous conviction and a promise I’ll never break.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

He pauses, blinks at me once, and then his head falls back from the force of his laugh. Pulling on his nape so he takes me seriously, the bastard doesn’t stop laughing, shaking me on his thighs.

“Ok moya koroleva, with your incredible aim.”

His sarcastic comment is unneeded, and his eye roll definitely is. My pout is audible as I cross my arms over my chest.

“I didn’t miss.”

He stands with me in his arms and acts like an asshole, muttering under his breath but making sure it’s loud enough for me to hear.

“Yeah, let’s hope you don’t change your mind with your toothbrush because your breath smells like shit.”

Every argument I could say disappears, and I lean forward, hiding my face. I fight the urge to smell my own breath, and his chest shakes, making me drop my legs, turning as immature as the idiot.

I should breathe right in his fucking face, but I act with class and wriggle to be put down. He sets me on my feet, and I storm towards the bathroom, ignoring the laugh floating behind me. The asshole has started hiding his toothbrush, so I can’t put it in the toilet anymore.He still follows me to check and wraps his arms around me from behind. I don’t focus on how awful I look. I’m sure he’ll point all my defects out to me.

I glare through the mirror at the stupid smirk warning me he’s about to say something. He thinks better of it and keeps his mouth shut by blocking the words with his lips pressed to my crown. This feels right, and I hug his arms for more reasons than I like the look of them and sink into his chest. My voice lowers, and I soften fully, feeling nervous.

“You know you can tell me anything, that I’ll always protect your secrets as if they’re my own?”

He takes a controlled breath and I wait. He doesn’t say anything and dips his head to kiss my neck and deflect.

“Brush your teeth. Your breath is stinking up the place.”

There’s no heat to the words, and I finally understand him.

I do what he says for my own comfort, and he continues kissing my neck. He turns serious as he straightens, and the orders come out when I can’t argue.

“I never want you at any of the fights.”

Spitting the toothpaste out so I can refuse, he hardens and holds me tighter. His voice is deadly in warning as he cuts off any argument before it can be voiced.

“I’ll have Vitali set up a stream so you can watch live, but you will never be there, Inessa.”

I don’t like it when he says my name. It’s always a reprimand or threat laced into the word. There were other women in the crowd today, so it’s not a sexist rule, and I deflate, avoiding his eyes.

“Why?” I ask the edge of his reflection.

If he has some other woman there, I’ll kill her in front of him. Remembering I’m the other woman, I remove all emotion from my voice and act like it doesn’t hurt as I amend my question.

“What’s her name?”

He called her malysh, she’s in every part of his life while I’m a show pony who’s there for the occasion.

I’m the equivalent of Vlad’s suit, something he shows the world but doesn’t match inside.

An act. A costume. A fraud.

He lies easily and presses his deceit into my neck, “There’s no other woman, meely moy.”

I focus on the wet patch on his chest as he turns me to face him. But he forces me to look up, holding my nape, and says, “You’re better than everyone else. They don’t deserve to be in your presence.”

Relaxing at his honesty, I lean up on my toes and place a chaste kiss on his lips.

His reaction is weird. He’s never frozen or hesitated, but he pulls his head back looking between my eyes with his brows together.

“You’re not disgusted?”

My own confusion has me moving back at his dumbass question, and anger comes back.

“You need to take your own advice and learn when to shut the fuck up,” I hiss back.

He grips my throat and presses into the side as he walks into me, so my ass is resting on the vanity. There’s no anger, and the crease deepens.

“Why are you never afraid of me?”

He’s joining me in the question that doesn’t have an answer. I don’t know why, other than the fact he’s never actually hurt me. He’ll act like an asshole, but it’s playful, there’s never a real threat. I feel safe in his bloody hands. Whether it’s because of the blood or despite it, I’ll never know. I shrug and give him a bullshit answer.

“Better the devil you know. At least you know his tricks and motive.”

There’s a pause as we stare at each other.

Mine is in response, but his is searching. Whatever strange openness we’ve found has the most gentle kiss being placed on my lips. He strokes across my jaw with his busted knuckles and takes me to a new world where I’m breathless due to the intimacy of it. My eyes are still closed as he breaks the connection. His dumb question has me slamming to earth.

“When I die, will you marry someone else?”

My body turns cold, and all the comfort he just infused into my blood disappears.

I can’t imagine Vlad not existing. It’s like imagining the world without a sky. My mind can’t make up the image, and my tongue won’t push out the lie. Kissing my cheek, his whispered confession has tears burning my throat.

“I want you to be happy, but I’d prefer if you wait until my death, so I can steal time I don’t deserve.”

He doesn’t allow me time to process my emotions as the gentle kiss comes back, and he picks me up by my hips. He sits me on the vanity as he steps between my thighs in one smooth move.

There’s no stupid taunt or order, and my hands automatically go under his t-shirt. He lifts his arms, helping me to take it off. Without his lips on mine, the emotion comes back, threatening to choke me, and I wrap my legs around him to force it to be chased away. I can’t think anymore. Neither of us can. We need the escape, and I wish he’d drown me again, so my body only focuses on trying to breathe.

He bands an arm around my back and lifts my hips to push my dress up. He still has his shorts on, and I hug him. I flatten my palms on his back, feeling his warmth, and his heart beating against my hand. When my fingers brush the forced tattoo in the middle, I hug him tighter. But he’s allergic to emotions and cups my jaw to tip my head back and seal his lips over mine.

There’s no crazed undressing, his rough hands are gentle, and he slowly lowers my zip. I gasp into his mouth as the cool stone touches my ass, and he smiles into me. There’s a brief moment of uncharacteristic hesitation before he pulls my dress over my head.

My arms are above my head with the fabric bunched around my ribs. His lips don’t move from my skin as he pulls it off the rest of the way. Moving from my jaw to my lips, he kisses me again, getting rid of my underwear. It’s more than lust passed between us. It’s not emotion or chemicals fueling our movements, but deep need. He’s a work of art, and I moan into his mouth, feeling his muscles flex as I smooth my hands over his ribs and work my fingers into the waistband of his shorts.