Before the nagging voice latches too deeply, I push upright to twist and look him in the face. “You’re uncomfortable around people but agreed to guard me at school anyway. You attended a party that was pure chaos. You allow me in your basement when you don’t enjoy people in your space. Youstillattend school with me…” My list of everything he’s done trails off as I’m caught up in the thickness of emotion.
He's been sufferingfor me.
He cups my cheek, pulling me down and half overtop him. “You asked, I agreed. Simple as that.”
“Discomfort is not simple.”
His thumb traces my jaw. “I know you’re thinking you’re a burden, but you’re the furthest thing from that. Sure,university isn’t fun.Da, it’s busy and hectic and makes my head pound, but you, Fina,youare my medicine. I do it for youbecause I want to.I agreed to the job because I wanted to, and I have no regrets whatsoever. Being around you has been the best time of my life, even if I haven’t always shown it. The way you ease me pays me back tenfold, so if anything, I’m indebted to you. Don’t think of yourself as a problem.”
“Alright,” I agree after a long moment, because how can I not? “One more thing. You believe there’s something wrong with you when that’s the furthest thing from the truth. If only you could see yourself through my eyes; then, you’d know there’snothingwrong with you. You’re perfect, Lev.”
37
LEV
If I was perfect, I wouldn’t have broken orders from my Pakhan and slept with her. But I’m alright with not being perfect if she believes I am, because she’s all who matters.
I urge her back down because her head on my chest, hair across my skin, is something I could get used to. I’m waiting for the moment it feels too much, when my senses go into overdrive…but it never comes.
Admitting my issues lifts a weight off my chest. At least she understands. She’s the only one Iwantto tell this stuff to. I’ve never admitted it all to Anastasia, and definitely not Vanessa or Dimitri. Papa brushed me aside and demanded I return to training the day I begged him for support.
Serafina curls into my side. Holding her is a simple act, but for my body, it’s huge. With my eyes closed, it’s easier to handle the consequences of tonight. Despite what I told Vanessa the other day, Serafina and I were always meant to collide. This will be an explosion that will either destroy me or save me.
Theaftersdon’t matter. One day soon, Serafina will go home to Italy, and the buzzing will return, stronger than ever. I’ll be stuck surviving without the salve I’ve discovered within her soul.
For now, though, I betray my entire world and make her mine.
Her vanilla-scented shampoo wrecks my senses. While I’m breathing her in, her finger traces a few of my tattoos, specifically the sun on my ribs, five rays jutting out from it. It’s a misaligned sun; ever since Vanessa’s takeover, the likelihood of that sun getting filled in has lessened.
“Do your tattoos mean something?” She touches the skulls and roses over my heart.
“Tattoos in the Bratva tell the story of our life within the organization. The stars on my shoulder are a symbol of authority, since I’m one of Vanessa’s Spies, a coveted position in charge of her soldiers. The cross on my chest is traditional, and we all have one. The spider on my hip means I’m an active member, and so on; I won’t go through each one. But the sun?—”
I stop, hesitating. Tellingher, letting her realize how opposite we are, is something else entirely.
I find the strength in her eyes, though. The way they glisten patiently, waiting for me to speak. She’s never run. She didn’t run when I admitted the stuff about my brain.
“The sun’s rays represent how many times I’ve been to prison. Five lines, Five imprisonments. And this one”—I lift my opposite arm, twisting to show the portrait of the religious figure of Madonna holding a child—“represents being there at a young age.”
My hold on her tightens, my next inhale filling with peaches so when she inevitably disappears, the memory will remain.
She tilts her head. “You’ve gone to jail?”
“I warned you,printessa. My hands aren’t clean.”
Her gaze drops to where my knuckles show the cuts, the evidence, of my last job. “I know they aren’t,” she whispers, brushing over the sun tattoo. “Keeping me from this life wasalways my brother’s plan, not mine. I’m curious about your history, but I don’t want to probe.”
“Ask anything you want.” An offer made to no one, ever.
“Tell me why you were in prison.”
Keeping my arm around her waist, I pull us further up the bed until the pillows cushion our backs. They provide comfort the centre of the bed doesn’t have.
“My father was the ultimate user. His loyalty to his Pakhan, to Ursin, was everything to him. Everything we—him, Ana, and I—did was in the name of the Bratva, and if that meant him making his children into weapons, so be it. I mentioned before how I get fixated on things that interest me. Well, he didn’t like when I didn’t conform. My fixation with computers often resulted in skipping training. Ursin saw the appeal of my skills, which meant Papa had no choice but to accept them. Still, he wanted me physically stronger. He wanted me to be like Dimitri, who showed potential from a young age to be the ultimate soldier. When I didn’t fit into his standards, when I skipped orders because my mind was so latched on to one thing or the other, Papa would drop me into prison, in the non-Bratva owned cells, around men who despised us. This is how he taught me to fight and defend myself when I missed too many trainings. I had to figure it out for myself, to survive.”
Her nails dig into my chest. Silence consumes the room for a moment until her whisper shatters it, right alongside my fear she’d run from this—from me. “That’s so sad.”
“Maybe. In some ways, I had it easier than the others.”
