Page 29 of Lilies from Hell

“Ty ochen’ krasivaya,” he murmurs in an even lower voice than before, his gaze still lost in my face. Then he takes my hand and brings my stained finger to his lips.

“What…” My cheeks burn. I forget what I was going to say as the warmth and moisture of his tongue clean the speck of blood. Worse still is when he lets out a hoarse, satisfied groan before letting go of my hand and speaking to himself in an inaudible murmur.

“Kak ya lyublyu tvoyu krov’.” His eyes haven’t left mine for a moment. The words that come out of his lips, despite being foreign to me, send a shiver down my spine.

“I don’t understand. What do you want?” I murmur, frowning. The heat of my body remains there as I keep remembering his tongue on my skin, even if it was only for a second.

“I want to talk to you,” he replies, now fixing his gaze on my chest.

Shameless pig. As if I hadn’t done that to his body a thousand times, seeing him as just another piece of meat. But whatever.

“I don’t have time,” I repeat what he said to me that day. He bites his inner lip and his cheeks blush slightly. Does he actually have blood in his veins? Does he blush? Well, that’s new.

“I’m really sorry about that day. I…” He stops talking, noticing my finger, which has started bleeding again. “I can’t concentrate like this,” he then speaks to himself.

I look at him as if he had grown another eye when he comes out of the kitchen without warning. Shortly after, he returns with a band-aid and cotton wool soaked with iodine.

“It’s just a tiny cut,” I reply, letting him clean the spot with the cotton ball before placing the band-aid around my finger.

I blink, trying to clear my head of memories that don’t feel like mine and only confuse me more. Then why is he acting like this now?

“I’ve been acting like an idiot with you these past few days, and I want to apologize.” His hands are still holding mine. His blue eyes now have an intense gaze, but what makes my eyes almost pop out of my head is his… is he apologizing to me?

“I’m going through something and I’m taking it out on you. I don’t dislike you. Quite the contrary.” No matter how hard I try to be indifferent, I can’t. The way he speaks gives more truth to his words, making my curiosity about what exactly is troubling him grow. Besides, if he dared to tell me and apologize, it must be something important. And part of me is glad to know that the reason for his rude attitude isn’t because he dislikes me, but because of something external to me.

It’s always good to make friends. Other than that, I have no interest in not being disliked by him. None.

“It’s okay. And I’m sorry you’re having a hard time. I hope I can be of help to you at some point.” He lets go of my hand, looking at me again as if I were an endangered species. I feel the heavy air around me. My hands tingle without really knowing why.

“I’d like us to start over. As friends,” he adds with a grimace that quickly changes to a strange smile. “If you want.”

“I’d love to,” I reply, more cheerfully than usual. As I said, I like making new friends.

The smile he gives me makes my legs tremble, so I have no choice but to lean on the counter to keep from falling. Neither of us knows what to do or what to say. We just stare at each other in dead silence.

“And may I ask why you’re having a hard time?” I murmur, pressing my hands against the cold marble.

“Let’s just say I’m having a hard time adjusting to all this.”

“Do you miss Moscow?” I ask.

I kind of understand. I had a hard time adjusting after leaving Toronto to live in different places. According to my father, it was for our safety. And I didn’t complain. I would have been just as paranoid after what happened, but sometimes I felt out of place even in our permanent home. Not to mention the limited social life I had had due to changing schools and universities so often. Grace is the only friend I have left from my childhood.

“No, it’s just that there are things I didn’t expect to find when I came here…”

“What things?” I ask in a low whisper, but get no answer.

He tries to kiss me, so I lean back. But it’s too late. He grabs my neck, pulls me in, and kisses me softly. My eyes open wider than normal, and the irregular beats beneath my chest scare me because of how fast they are going.

In less than a second, he moves his mouth around mine with overwhelming desperation. His grip on my hand is firm but not painful. His kiss burns with a desperate hunger. I don’t take long to do the same, wrapping my arms around his neck somewhat clumsily. It’s a hungry kiss of pure desire and lust.

When a guttural moan escapes his lips, I slip my tongue inside, caressing his entire mouth with my hands holding his neck to deepen the kiss even further. That’s not enough. I want much more.

“Le… Holy balls!” The moment I hear my brother, I pull away in the blink of an eye, ending up closer to the door than to him. “I’d better go.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him trying to get closer again. Before he can make another move, I’m already running to my bedroom, my cheeks burning red.

Normally, my mind loves the idea of having him there all day, but after this morning, it’s much worse. I just hope the next kiss isn’t in ten years, because if it is, I’d rather die. As I walk down the stairs on my way out, I find my father talking heatedly with another man with dark skin.