He advanced until my back hit the fridge door, bracing one hand above my head. My heart slammed against my ribs, heat rushing to my face, what in the bookshit was that?
“You’re not that interesting,” I shot back, lifting my chin defiantly despite the chaos in my body. This time, he raised a brow and lifted his other hand, catching a lock of my hair against my chest. “Believe me,malen’kaya gadyuka,I can be very interesting when I want to be.”
He lifted my hair to his nose and inhaled slowly, eyes closing. My breath hitched. His eyes snapped open, darkening, then softened. He let my hair fall and raised his hand to my face instead. My breath caught as his thumb brushed my lower lip, then he brought it to his own mouth “…lily of the valley,” he murmured. “And honey.”
A faint smile touched his lips, not mocking, not cruel. Real. Gentle. He had dimples. Actual fucking dimples. I froze, stunned. His smile widened slightly, lighting his eyes in a waythat stole the air from my lungs. He looked…magnificient. And for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just that. Then his expression darkened again, the smile fading as he stepped back. “Do you need help with that?” he asked, nodding toward the syringe in my hand, as if nothing had happened, I blinked, disoriented. Had that really just happened?
“No,” I muttered, forcing myself to pull together. “It’s just in case. If I have another episode.” I stepped away from the fridge, irritation creeping back in. He had a way of completely unbalancing me just by existing. He studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Good night and… thank you” I muttered a response through clenched teeth and grabbed two slices of bread from the basket on the counter. My body would burn through the honey quickly; I needed something more substantial. I ignored the way his gaze burned into my back as I left the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time toward the guest room. That night, I dreamed strange dreams, fragments of blue eyes, warmth, breath against my skin.
And more than once, even in my sleep, I felt a presence near me.
Watching.
Protecting.
And the next evening, when I returned to my room, a small refrigerator stood there, `
stocked with all my injections.
Present
I jolted when cool fingers brushed against the burning skin of my stomach, I must have drifted off. I tried to sit up, but my arms were too heavy, my whole body weighed down. I watched Sasha lift my shirt with hands he had just washed in the bathroom. He took the cotton and antiseptic he must have fetched there as well and carefully disinfected the skin just belowmy navel. The cold made me shiver again, but I said nothing. I let him do it. I wanted to keep him close, even if only for a few more seconds, even if it was selfish.
“Here we go,” he said as he picked up the syringe, he removed the cap and rolled it several times between his hands, just as he had seen me do so many times before. I couldn’t help the faint smile that curved my lips at the sight of his concentrated expression. He took this task so seriously, like every time he did something like this, something meant to take care of me, my heart tightened painfully. I didn’t deserve any of it. None of his attention.
I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the sting of the needle, but it never came. Instead, I felt a soft breath brush my face, cool fingers pushing back the strands stuck to my forehead. I sighed softly and opened my eyes, blinking slowly. Blue. There was only blue with him. Cold, but a cold that soothed me. A peaceful blue. He was leaning on one elbow above my head, his fingers gently stroking my forehead. His eyes searched my face, lingering on every feature before returning to my gaze.
“Open your mouth, Sienna,” he murmured softly, his voice making my heart flutter. I shook my head weakly, he had to stop, he had to stop tormenting me like this, or I would break, and nothing good would ever come of that. Not with me. Everything I touched, everything I wanted, I ended up destroying. I always hurt people. I always got hurt.
He watched me for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “That wasn’t a request, Angel. Open it before you regret it” I frowned. There it was again, that arrogant bastard side of him.
I opened my mouth, ready to snap back at him, but he leaned in at once and captured my lips. The kiss was quick, firm, unexpected. I gasped softly as his tongue brushed mine, a sound escaping me before I could stop it. His hand slid from myforehead into my hair, massaging my scalp gently, and another soft sound left my throat. My hand rose instinctively, pressing against his chest, slipping under his shirt. My fingers brushed his skin, and I felt his muscles tense beneath my touch.
He trembled, just slightly, but then he pulled away, leaving me breathless and dazed. His gaze had darkened, impossibly deep and beautiful. His lips were slightly swollen now, just like mine. He closed his eyes as if to regain control, depriving me of that blue, of that calm.
His mouth brushed my forehead, then he leaned down and pressed a brief kiss just below my navel before lowering my shirt and straightening up. He tossed the syringe into the disposal container. He threw it away.
I pushed myself up on my elbows, staring at him, confused. “What…” he slipped his hands into his pockets and looked at me with a faint, knowing smile.Oh. He had done it on purpose. He had kissed me to distract me, and it had worked. Too well. “Asshole,” I muttered, collapsing back onto the bed and curling onto my side as I felt the medication finally take effect. My temperature began to drop, a gentle drowsiness washing over me. “Thank you,” I whispered at last, eyes closing. I barely reacted when he covered me with half the blanket, tucking it around me while I lay on the other side.
“We’re going to talk, Angel,” he said quietly, his hand lingering in my hair. “We’re going to talk, and we’re going to deal with whatever this problem of yours is”. I felt his hesitation, then his hand withdrew, and the door closed softly behind him. He left me alone to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. His words echoed in my head, and all I could do was cry.
Cry for my past.
Cry for a future I would never have, no matter how much I wanted it… no matter how much he might want it too.
Sasha
Marcus frowned and smacked the back of Samy’s head as the latter pulled a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. Samy muttered under his breath and rubbed his skull, but obediently put the pack away.
He was the youngest of our close-protection guards, which was precisely why the others watched over him so closely, trying to keep him away from bad habits, especially given the environment he was growing up in. I turned away from the window overlooking the courtyard where the monthly meeting of the women of the Bratva was being held. I cast a glance toward the heavy wooden doors behind which seven women were gathered, searching for solutions to the problems that we men never stopped creating. Elif was seated at the head of the table, presiding over that den of lionesses, each one ready to tear the others apart to claim her place, ready to erase the Ivanov name to impose her own.
Just like at the table of the lions, our most dangerous enemies were never the outsiders, but those among us, those who knew us, who were the most insidious. That was why we had to present a united front at all times, never fractured, never divided. That was why we tried, as often as possible, to attend meetings together. With Grigori, it was simple. As brothers, we were allowed to take part in the meetings. He was never alone; one of us was always there to support him, to reinforce his decisions, to defend his position.
With Elif, it was more complicated. Usually Roman accompanied her, or I did, as today when he was unavailable. But whichever of us came, we always remained outside the room, leaving her alone to face the vultures, alone to defend the family on that front for the past eighteen years. Since she had been only nineteen years old, back when we were still stupidenough to push her away, to reject her. She had never stopped protecting us. Never abandoned us. She had accepted us as her family from the very first day.
I checked my watch. A few more minutes. The meetings lasted an hour and were held once a month on different dates and places. They allowed us to monitor operations, resolve internal and external issues, and make decisions vital to the organization’s survival. I sat on the edge of the window ledge, crossing my arms and legs, watching two bodyguards nod at me before resuming their posts in the hallway. One of them belonged to Vassili’s wife. Should I question him about the situation in Mission District? Could he know something? No, if Vassili had dared to run a parallel trafficking operation, only his closest circle would be aware of it. As much of a bastard as Vassili was, he was also clever and sly as a fox. This had to be handled delicately, without arousing suspicion, not from him, and not from the others around the table. Not until we had proof. My thoughts were interrupted when my phone vibrated in the inner pocket of my jacket. A message from Roman:
White, black, or red?
