CHAPTER 11
NALA
“You’re awake.”
My heart slows the instant I realize it’s Roman stepping through the door. He stops when he sees me on the living room couch, his eyes widening before his expression smooths back into place.
"I couldn't sleep.” I hop off the couch, taking a step toward him. "I needed to know nothing bad happened."
His features soften then harden again like it never happened. "So you know to call Lev?"
"That’s not funny. You know why.”
He watches me for a few seconds, brows narrowed. He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it quickly. He shrugs off his jacket and unhooks his gun.
"Nothing happened while I was gone?"
"No. At least not that I know of. I can’t see anything through those blinds."
He moves into the kitchen, opens a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of brown liquid and a glass. He pours it and drinks it down in one go.
I know it’s alcohol even though I’ve never seen him drink before.
"Was it that bad?"
He lowers the glass. "Yeah. About as bad as I expected." Roman leans against the counter. “He thinks it was someone inside Volchya who took you. He went around the table asking where we were that night, who saw us."
He takes another drink. "I told him I was home, but he didn't believe me. He just can't prove it."
"You're safe?” she asks, eyes wide as she searches my face. “We’resafe?"
"For now. He can't move against me without proof. Not after tonight. They all saw how fucking insane he is."
I frown, hating myself for being so eager for someone's death. "He’ll be... I mean, by the time he finds proof, you'll?—”
He nods once. "By then, yes. I'm working on it."
He swirls the liquor in his glass, drinking again. I look up to see him watching me.
"You ever drink before?"
The question catches me by surprise. I shake my head. "No."
Amusement crosses his face. “Come here.”
He crooks his finger and I step into the kitchen, stopping in front of him.
He holds out the glass. "It’s cognac. Try it."
I stare at the glass, then at him. I try not to think too deep about the fact that he's offering mehisglass. My pulse races.
I bring it to my lips. The scent is sharp, almost overwhelming as I take a small sip. The alcohol burns going down my throat, spreading heat through my chest. I swallow hard, blinking and trying not to cough.
"How can you like that?"
Roman laughs. I’ve never heard him laugh before, not a full-on laugh with his eyes lighting up. I like this so much.
"You get used to it,” he says. “It burns less after a while and keeps a man warm in winter."
