“You’re sad.”
“I just wish I knew my past, knew who I belonged to. I know nothing about where I come from.”
He reaches out and turns his palm over, and I let my fingers link with his.
“In Slavic mythology, the world was created out of darkness. But there was an egg, and when it cracked open, Svarog climbed out, and the debris created everything we have today.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“You’re from the earth, Bane. You crawled out of the darkness and created the life you have now. I envy you.”
“Why?” I breathe.
“Because you were able to take the mess you were given and created who you wanted to be. I never had that choice. My life was decided for me. I had to do what was expected of me. But you…” His hand squeezes mine. “You remade yourself.”
“You make it sound so romantic.”
His lips twitch. “I’m not romantic, Bane.”
“You are. You tattooed my ass with your name.”
“Not many would like that.”
“But I do.”
His grin widens. “It seems we’re a perfect match.”
“Perfect,” I agree.
The server appears and sets two bowls of soup down.
“Borscht,” I say, and Georgiy nods.
“I had some when I was at Mikhail’s. Angel makes a mean one.”
“He does. I was very surprised by how well he did with recreating traditional Russian meals.”
“He had motivation.”
“He did. And he accomplished it.”
“He did. Mikhail never stood a chance.”
“He did not.”
We stare at each other, something unspoken moving between us. I didn’t stand a chance either. Not with Georgiy. And it seems he feels the same about me.
I dip my spoon into the bright red soup and take a sip, sighing as flavor explodes across my tongue.
“What does this remind you of?” I ask.
He ponders that a moment and says, “Cold days around the fire, my mother and father having heated discussions about politics.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“It was. But in hindsight, those opinions of theirs got them killed.”
“But you got to experience them.”
