Текст книги "Reap"

Автор книги: Tillie Cole

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Luka

“One, two, three, four.”

I slammed my fists forward, ripping into the flesh of the newly slaughtered pig hanging from the rafter of the gym. Viktor, my death-match trainer from my Dungeon days, counted my reps beside me.

My bladed knuckle-dusters sliced into the pink flesh of the swine, the dripping blood and the cut of the skin almost humanlike as I let the power of my punches loose.

“Drop and give me fifty,” Viktor ordered. I did as commanded, falling into my push-ups position. I pushed off the floor, eyes focused forward as Viktor counted me down.

The familiar smells of the gym filled my nose, the sounds of clanging metal, grunts, and punching bags being struck brought me back to life. But a rip of guilt also sliced through my chest. Kisa had no idea I’d been training again. She had no idea that I’d called on Viktor to get me match fit again. To be Raze ready.

In the weeks that I’d been back in Brooklyn, the street war between the Bratva and the Jakhua Georgians had begun. Our men were being targeted, shot, killed, beat. And it incensed me. Fueled the constant rage I’d had fought to rein in.

As the knayz I was forbidden to fight. The Pakhan wanted to secure the safety of his future successor. But me? I wanted to be on the streets. I wanted to fight among the men. I wanted to take the lives of our enemy. I wanted to be a part of the war, not watching from the sidelines.

Fuck. I needed the violence. Something dark within me still craved it.

And more than that, I wanted Jakhua. Anri’s revenge would not be complete until that fucker had died under my blades. I wouldn’t move on until that mission had been accomplished. Right now that fucker was in hiding. But at some point he’d show his face, and when he did, I’d be prepped and ready to take him out.

“Fifty,” Viktor called, ending my push-ups. I jumped up, only to start my next set of reps on what was left of the decimated pig carcass. I was ten reps in to my routine when I felt someone watching me.

Lifting my head, I searched the gym, and my eyes fell on Kisa standing near the entrance to her office. My stomach rolled. She was meant to be out for the day. She was never meant to know I was training again. She wouldn’t understand why I needed this.

Halting in my training session, sweat pouring down my face, I breathed hard as I stared at my wife. Her expression was unreadable as she stood motionless just watching me in my gym shorts, my blood-covered ’dusters firmly on my fists.

“Shit, been caught,” Viktor muttered under his breath from beside me. He threw Kisa a guilty wave. She waved back, then turned to go into her office. When the door shut, I dropped my head and felt Viktor’s hand land on my shoulder.

“You better go sort that out, kid,” he said. “I’ll clean up here.”

Nodding, I slid the ’dusters off my fingers and headed for the office. As I walked through the mob of this season’s recruits perfecting their skills, I couldn’t help but size each one of them up. And I automatically knew I could take them all. For most, there wouldn’t even be a contest. I would slaughter them in seconds. I tried my hardest to push those thoughts from my mind.

It was no longer my life.

I reached Kisa’s office, and with my hand hovering over the knob, I took a deep breath and walked in. As the door shut, I stepped forward, unsure of how Kisa was going to react to finding me training.

I walked before her desk and slumped down in the seat opposite. I stared at the table, hands gripping the edge, not saying a damn word. Kisa didn’t move for several seconds, until she leaned forward and ran her finger over my wedding ring.

I watched as her finger traced the edges of the gold ring and I held my breath. “How long have you been training?” she asked. Every one of my muscles tensed.

Briefly closing my eyes, I opened them to look up at my wife and confessed, “Awhile.” Four months to be exact, I added in my head.

“Here?” she asked. I nodded my head. “Under my nose, hiding in plain sight, or is it only in the shadows or when I’m gone?”

I sat back in my seat at the anger in Kisa’s voice. She was rarely pissed at me. Clearly my training had pissed her the fuck off. “You wouldn’t understand,” I replied.

Kisa’s angered face immediately filled with hurt. And I immediately felt like shit. “I would, Luka. I would understand,” she whispered. “If you’d talked to me, I would’ve understood.”

Her cut voice made me look up at her beautiful face. I could see pain written all over it. And it cut me to shreds. Sighing, I stood and moved around her desk. When I reached Kisa’s side, I pushed her chair back and sat before her on the edge of her desk.

My taped-up hand ran down her soft cheek and she leaned into my palm. “I need it, solnyshko. I need to train, to fight. This was my life for so long that it’s all I really know. It’s part of me now. Here, in this gym, I feel more at peace than I do when we are with our fathers. I tried to not come here, but I couldn’t. I had to come back.”

“Lyubov moya,” she whispered sympathetically, and shuffled forward on her seat. Kisa’s hands ran up my thighs. I stared down at her and sighed.

This woman was my world. The woman God created perfectly just for me.

Kisa rubbed her lips together and cautiously informed, “I saw our fathers outside.” She didn’t add anything else, just let that information hang in the air.

I stiffened and clenched my jaw. “They saw me,” I confessed dejectedly, “they saw me sparring in the cage, saw me break a man’s nose and knock him out cold.” I glanced up at Kisa as I remembered finding my father and the Pakhan watching me ringside in shock as I towered over the man I’d forced to the ground.

“I could see their disappointment,” I said. “My father hadn’t said a word. He just watched me wipe the spattered blood off my chest before walking out of the gym. The Pakhan followed. I disappointed them, I could see it in their faces. I’m not the man they want. I shame them, Kisa.” Kisa’s hands tightened on my thighs and her head tipped to the side.

Spurred on by her touch, I said, “They don’t want this man I am now, solnyshko. They want the Luka from the past. The promise of that kid they knew years ago. They don’t want this.” I pointed to my cut knuckles and my identity tattoo. “They don’t want the fucked-up monster who can’t shake the conditioning from the gulag.”

“Luka,” Kisa whispered, and got to her feet. Her hands pushed through my hair as she stood flush to my chest. She guided me straight to her lips. Kisa’s sweet taste immediately exploded in my mouth and made me feel better. I moaned against Kisa’s mouth, and as she wrapped her arms around my waist, I pulled her further against my chest.

Kisa finally broke away then threaded her arms around my neck. Her eyes met mine. As I got lost in her blue understanding stare, I said, “I can be the knayz, Kisa, I know I can. But I have to be the heir on my terms.”

Kisa’s arms tightened and she said, “Papa and Ivan don’t want their Bratva’s inner circle to be violent.”

My jaw clenched when I thought of the Bratva set up before I returned. “Alik Durov fought in the Dungeon, in the cage. He fought our rivals and enemies on the streets. No fucker threatened the Bratva with him as knayz. And they should fear me just the same, if not more. Instead, I’m on a fucking leash. People will think me weak, Kisa. Jakhua attacks our men daily. But I’m expected to sit in an office with Kirill and my father, pushing pens and watching it all happen from behind a mahogany desk.” My muscles burned that sad truth.

Bringing my hand to my chest, I said, “I could lead our men on the streets, attack our enemies until they crawl back into the holes they slid from.” I leaned forward, my blood pumping faster just imagining it. “I could make the Volkov Bratva unrivaled, Kisa. I could make us stronger than ever. I just need that chance. I need our fathers to trust in me, in the man I am now. Violence included.”

Blood drained from Kisa’s face. She lost all color. Moving backward, she slumped back on her seat. I watched her in confusion.

“Kisa?”

“You want back in the Dungeon?” she whispered brokenly. “You want to fight like Alik did in the cage, on the streets? Even now you want that? Even now you have your life back? Now you have me. Do you still want to kill like him, too?”

I bent down, my knees hitting the floor. By the look on Kisa’s face, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. “No, baby,” I assured. I pushed her brown hair back from her face. “I fucking hated Durov. There’s not a single day that goes by that I don’t remember killing him and feeling fucking fine with it. But”—I took a deep breath and confessed—“at least he got to be who he really was.”

Kisa was motionless waiting for me to continue.

I tried to think of a way to explain myself better. Taking her hand, I said, “I don’t want to fight in the cage anymore. But I don’t know who I am without the fight, if that makes sense. I am the fight. I am death. It’s who I am. It’s who I was molded to be.”

My eyes dropped to stare at the floor when Kisa didn’t say anything in response. Why the fuck she was with me was a mystery to me. I was fucked in the head. I was irredeemable. She deserved better than me. She’d been forced to be with Alik Durov for years in my absence. And she’d hated it. He’d hurt her, made her life hell with his need for blood and violence.

I sucked in a painful breath. I wasn’t much of an improvement on that cunt. I needed those things, too. Probably just as much.

Suddenly Kisa crouched to the floor. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and I immediately sagged into her chest.

“I love you, lyubov moya. Since birth and until the end,” she whispered, pushing any self-hatred I had to the side.

I sighed as she said exactly what I needed to hear and held her tight. “I love you, too, solnyshko. Always.”

Kisa leaned back, searching my face, and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her again. I broke from her mouth and pressed my forehead against hers.

We stayed there awhile in silence until Kisa pulled back. I reached out and took hold of her wrist, suddenly remembering she’d been to the doctor this morning. I’d noticed she’d been sick and off color lately. It was worrying the hell out of me.

“How was your doctor’s appointment?” I asked.

Kisa stared at me, her blue eyes seeming to lose focus. With an abrupt squeeze of my hand in hers, she quickly smiled and said, “Just a stomach flu, baby. Nothing to worry about.”

I sighed in relief, and got to my feet. I offered her my hand, too. Sliding her palm over mine, Kisa got to her feet. I wrapped her in my arms. “I’m glad it’s nothing serious. I love you,” I whispered. “More than I know how to express.”

Kisa tensed for a brief moment, her breath hitching. Then she held me right back.

Chapter Thirteen

Zaal

They started off as images. Pictures of people and places I didn’t recognize. They began invading my dreams at night. I watched them as if I was standing on the side. People; men, women, children, both boys and girls. They were happy. They made me feel warm. There were two boys. They looked the same; same hair, same build, same face, but one had brown eyes and the other green.

I couldn’t erase their faces from my mind. But every time I thought about them really hard, red-hot pain would slice through my brain … then came other images … images of blood, of guns, of screams that tore my stomach apart. I couldn’t stand them. The screams ignited the fire in my veins, causing me to lose control. But a little girl’s screams were the worst.… She would scream and I would see two little arms reaching for me to help but something was holding me back … then the screams would stop and a pit would form in my stomach.

I wouldn’t be able to breathe, and my heart would break, impossible anger tearing me to shreds.

I lay in bed with Talia, my eyes wide open and my arms wrapped around her small waist. I didn’t want to close my eyes. I didn’t want to rest and have the dreams come back. I didn’t want them in my head. I had no idea what they meant but knew they made Talia cry.

She would always cry. When I didn’t understand what she wanted me to do, her eyes would fill with tears. She would look at me with her big brown eyes and go quiet.

I didn’t like her crying. My stomach would tighten and my chest would burn. I liked her smiling and when her lips would show her teeth. I liked the mole on her lower left cheek and when her long blond hair would lay over one shoulder. When she would stare at me, her cheeks flushing red. When she would put her hand on my face and cool my scolding blood. I liked it when she stroked my long hair, and when she kissed my lips, her tongue pushing inside my mouth.

I liked being with her, and not being with Master. I liked being free with Talia, in this protected house.

But my favorite was how she made me feel. How fast my heart would beat when she lay with me. How I could breathe when she held my hand, her thumb stroking the back of my hand.

And fucking her, though it was different from all the times before. It wasn’t the same with her as it was with Master’s females. I looked into her eyes. Her hand would stroke my back, then rake through my hair. It was slow. It meant something to me. When we were together I felt full. I only ever remember feeling numb and empty; killing and fucking for Master. Talia made me feel alive. There was no man in a white coat injecting me and making me feel nothing but rage. There was just Talia, and she was all I wanted.

Talia moved in my arms, her face coming into view. I drank in her face and my chest seemed to grow bigger. Her face looked peaceful as she slept. Her big eyes were closed, but still beautiful. Her little nose twitched as she dreamed. Her pink lips parted as she slowly breathed in and out, in and out.

I was tired. I fought the pull of sleep, but with Talia’s soothing breathing and warm touch against my body, my eyelids won the battle to close. As I drifted off, I held her to my chest, refusing to let her go.…

I lay in the sun by the stream. I loved being outside. I loved the feel of the sun on my face, of the birds singing in the trees.

I heard footsteps crunching the long grass behind me, and suddenly the sun was blocked from my face. I knew who it was, and I didn’t even open my eyes as I felt him before me. “Move,” I said. A foot kicked my leg. A laugh tore from my brother’s throat and I felt him drop down to lie beside me.

“You’re always out here,” he said. I rolled my head to the side and opened my eyes. His face, identical to mine, was looking right at me.

I shrugged. “I like the sun. I like the warmth. I hate the darkness. If I could live in forever sunshine, I would.”

My brother nodded with a smirk on his face, then looked up at the clouds in the sky. We were always together, him and I. Wherever he went, I went. Mama used to say we were a team, better together than we’d ever be apart.

“Papa’s called a meeting today,” he said. I closed my eyes. “He wants us to be with him. He’s meeting with the men from Kutaisi. They’re all coming here.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “I don’t want to go.” I thought of the head of that clan. “The man, the leader always stares at us. He makes me feel strange. I hate him.”

My brother was silent for a moment, then said, “I feel like that around him, too.”

I snapped my eyes open and turned to my side. My brother did the same, the two of us lying on our sides so we could talk. “You do?” I whispered.

“Yes. He … he makes shivers go down my spine.”

I took a deep breath and looked into my brother’s brown eyes. “I think Papa likes him.”

My brother’s eyes narrowed. “I think he does, too.”

“I don’t trust him,” I admitted. My brother reached out and laid his hand over mine.

“Nor do I.” I took a deep breath and I could feel my cheek twitch in nerves. “But we have to go. We have to become strong men to lead our clan.”

My brother released his hand and I stared at his face. “You’ll lead. You’re the oldest. You’re the heir.”

He laughed, and it made me smile. “By four minutes.”

I shrugged, but his hand squeezed mine. “No, brother. You’re my twin. Grandmama says we share strength. We’ll lead together. We will always be together. We’re stronger together. You know this.”

Losing my smile, I nodded my head. “I know. But you’ll always be my older brother to me.” My brother smiled. We both lay down on our backs.

“Papa wants us to cut our hair,” my brother said. I turned my head to face his. “I told him we liked it long. Grandmama agreed. I think we’ll be able to keep it long.” He looked over at me and smiled. “It’s long and black, like Georgian warriors of old used to wear.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “we’ll never cut it and we will always be warriors.”

“You and me,” my brother said.

“You and me,” I agreed.

“And me!” a little voice called from behind us. I smiled and rolled onto my knees. A little girl was hiding in the grass. Her long black hair stood out against the tall green grass.

My brother rolled his eyes, then closed his eyes, his face soaking in the hot sun. But I stretched up, smiled at my little sister hiding in the field.

“Mmm … did you hear something, brother?” I said, and heard my sister’s giggle from a few feet away.

My brother grunted, too busy falling asleep.

I crept forward and said aloud, “It sounded like Zoya. Didn’t you think it sounded like Zoya?” I played along.

More laughter came from just in front of me. Two brown eyes appeared in the grass, so dark they looked like darkness itself.

“Mmm … I wonder where she could be?” I said, and pretended to search the grass. When her giggles became too loud to ignore, I couldn’t help but smile. In seconds, my five-year-old sister jumped from the grass and ran straight at me. Her laughing face was the last thing I saw before she launched into my arms, knocking me back, near my brother.

My brother cracked one eye and, smirking, shook his head at my sister. Then he went back to sleep.

Zoya pulled back and her little hands pressed against my cheeks as she sat on my lap. “Sykhaara,” she said to me, using Grandmama’s pet name for me, “my sweetness,” “I came to get you. Papa wants you both home ‘now’!” I laughed as she imitated our papa’s deep voice. She laughed when I laughed. “He said some men are coming and you have to dress up and meet them. ‘You have to learn the family business’!” she imitated again, her little hands on her hips.

My brother laughed at our little sister as he stayed in his position beside us and Zoya nodded her head meaningfully. Her eyebrows pulled together and she asked, “Who are the men?”

I tapped the end of her nose. “Papa’s friends.”

“Ohhh,” she replied, “so they’re my friends, too?”

My brother this time sat up. His face was serious. “Yes, they’re your friends, but just be careful, okay, Zoya. They’re dangerous men.”

Her face was serious and she nodded her head, repeating, “Friends, but be careful. They’re dangerous.”

“Yes,” I said, but that hollow feeling was back in my stomach. The three of us walked back toward the house, Zoya in my arms.

Her finger pointed to my face. “One, two, three,” she counted tapping the side of my left cheek.

“What are you doing?” I asked. She prodded my upper cheek.

“One, two, three,” she repeated, “the moles beside your eye.”

She reached out and put her hand on our brother’s face. “You don’t have them.”

“No,” he said, reaching out and tickling her ribs. Our sister screamed and laughed until our brother stopped and ruffled her black hair.

“It’s okay,” she said, and tapped his shoulder. “He has one for each of us.” She pointed to me, “one,” then pointed to herself, “two,” then pointed to our brother, “three.” She nodded her head proudly. “One mole for each of us.”

I turned her face to look at me. “And what about the babies? What about your other brother and sister? I don’t have five moles. I don’t have enough for all of us.”

She scowled. “Uh-uh. They’re babies. They cry and cry.” She put one of her hands on my face and one on my brother’s. “You’re mine. My big twin brothers. The babies have each other. Papa said when you’re big and strong you’ll protect me and no one will hurt me because you’ll scare them all away.”

My brother moved over and whipped her from my arms. He threw her in the air and she squealed. He pulled her to his chest, kissed her on her cheek, and said, “And that’s true. We’ll always protect you.”

“I know,” she said smugly, and pointed that little finger between the three of us again. “One, two, three … Zoya, Zaal, and An—”

I gasped and my eyes snapped open. I lurched forward. Sweat poured from my body. My hands were shaking. I looked down at my hands, they wouldn’t stop shaking. I blinked and blinked and searched for air, the little girl’s words circling my mind.…

One, two, three. Zoya, Zaal, and An—

Pain stabbed behind my eyes as I tried to remember more. I shouted out in frustration. The pain blocked something in my mind, something I wanted to remember.

You’ll forget them all, Master’s voice ordered. A chain whipped along my back, hands tied behind my back as I hung off the wall. You’re mine. You have no past, no family, no other thought than to kill. You’re a killer. You’ll kill for me. Only me.

“Zaal?” Talia’s soft voice suddenly cut into my racing mind. Her hand landed on my shoulder. I closed my eyes, trying to use it to calm.

I could feel her moving beside me. Suddenly, she spread her legs over my lap and placed her palm on my cheek. “Shh…” she soothed. “It was only a dream. You’re safe, you’re here with me.”

Papa said when you’re big and strong you’ll protect me and no one will hurt me because you’ll scare them all away.

“Zaal!” Talia pushed, and raked my damp long hair back from my face. “Look at me. Please.”

I did as she ordered and locked on to her brown eyes. I swallowed and asked, “Who am I?”

Talia froze, her face paling. I slipped my hands on her bare waist and asked again, “Talia. Who am I?”

“Zaal,” she whispered. I shook my head.

“No!” I released my hands and gripped the side of my head. “In my head. Pictures, people. Who are they?” I pulled my hand into a fist and hit it against my chest. “Who am I? Zaal? Who is Zaal?”

Talia’s hand on my face began to shake, but she was frozen on my lap. My heart began to pound. It was too fast, beating too fast. Talia knew something.

“Zaal,” she whispered. Fear in her voice.

My stomach churned. I’d made her upset again. I didn’t want Talia to be upset.

Pressing my forehead against hers, I asked, “Why do you get upset? Why do you always get sad over me?”

Talia’s mouth opened. But no words came out. I gripped her face, and smashed her lips to mine. I pushed my tongue into her mouth. Talia groaned, her fingers fisting my hair.

My cock hardened under Talia. She moved forward until her cunt was over my dick. I growled when I felt the wetness, the warmth spreading over me. Running my hands down her back, I lifted her ass, and in seconds pushed her down on my cock. Talia screamed out and her head fell into the crook of my neck. I closed my eyes as her cunt sucked me in, the feel too much.

Fire ran through me as I pushed Talia up and down, her nails scraping against my scalp. I closed my eyes, trying to forget my dream. I pounded her pussy harder and harder, but the more I tried to lose myself in Talia, the more my brain tried to remember.

Pain so strong tried to shoot down my spine. I bowed my back, but my cock thrust harder in Talia. It felt too good to let the pain in. I panted. My chest heaved and I gritted my teeth as my head ached. My body fought against both pleasure and pain. I couldn’t take it, couldn’t take the confusion.

Snapping my head back, I released a rage-fueled roar and, gripping the back of Talia’s thighs, pushed her on her back, my cock still fixed tight inside her cunt. Talia shouted in surprise as I smashed my chest against her breasts. Eyes forward, my arms tensed and braced at each side of her head. I slammed forward, Talia’s legs wrapping tightly around my waist.

My nostrils flared with the severity of my thrust and I shook my head trying to fight the pain.

Below me, Talia moaned. I built up speed, the bed smashing off the wall. Talia’s hands grasped my hair. She forced me to look down.

Sweat was dripping down her chest, strands of her blond hair slapping against her flushed face. Her eyelids were cast, and her mouth was slightly open. I slammed into her even more.

I squeezed my eyes shut when her gaze met mine. Shame ran through me. I was being too hard. I tried to slow, but Talia’s hands gripped my arms.

“Fuck it out of you, zolotse. Take from me what you need.” I fought to control the urge to fuck her hard … then I stilled as I heard what she said, zolotse, my gold.

“Zolotse…,” I murmured, getting harder still off the endearment. Talia’s face flushed red, but her brown eyes never moved from mine. Zolotse.

My head fell to her chest. Talia’s hands pushed through my hair. I panted and tried to rid myself of my rage, my confusion, my frustration, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t go.

Then Talia’s mouth moved to my ear and she whispered, “Use me. Use me to rid yourself of the rage, take it out on my pussy.”

I stilled, and at her words, my cock swelled until it hurt. “Talia,” I growled.

“Do it, Zaal. Take me, zolotse.”

At the use of that word, something snapped inside me. Seeing the open look on Talia’s face, I broke. Tensing my neck, I thundered out a groan and plowed forward, Talia raking my back with her sharp nails.

I tucked my head into her neck, her scent enveloping me. And I took. I rammed into her over and over again. Possessing her. Owning her. Talia whimpered and moaned, but her pussy tightened like a fist and our skin burned with heat.

“Zaal…,” Talia moaned. “Yes, baby, fuck me.”

My cock swelled at her words. Talia’s breath shortened. Her moans grew louder and louder. Her head threw back, her back arched, and her pussy clenched my dick.

My cock twitched. I couldn’t take anymore. Gritting my teeth, I threw my head back, and stilling, my muscles strained, I came so hard I gasped for breath. My body shook as I flooded Talia’s cunt. Then I slumped to her chest, our bodies drenched with sweat.

Since she’d freed me from my chains, we spent day and night together like this. We fucked, but gentle and slow. This time I lost control. I felt weak. I was weak. The images in my head were making me weak.

Lifting my head, I looked into Talia’s eyes. My heart sank. Her brown eyes were wide and weary. Her cheeks were red with how hard I’d taken her.

Racked with shame, I pulled out of her. I lurched backward until my back hit the wall. I stared down at her lying there on the bed, my seed dripping from her thighs. I dropped my head in my hands.

I’d hurt her.

I never wanted to hurt her. But my head. I couldn’t control my head. I couldn’t stop the pain.

Feeling the bed dip, I froze when Talia’s soft hand smoothed across my chest. I kept my head down as her finger traced over my identity tattoo. 221 … 221 … 221 … I was 221.

I sucked in a breath. I knew who 221 was.

He was a killer.

He was Master’s killer.

He was the man that lived in chains and darkness.

But Talia called me Zaal. I did not know who Zaal was. A man freed from Master, a man with unexplained dreams and nightmares. The man who craved to be near Talia.

But there was more.

I could feel there was more, more to know, to understand.

Hearing Talia inhale a long breath, I felt her fingertip run along my knee. I raised my head. Talia was staring at my tattoo, then her glassy eyes drifted to meet mine.

I lifted my finger, and ran it over the smooth skin of her arm. “Who am I, Talia?” I asked, my voice broken. “Who is ‘Zaal’? I don’t know who he is.” I breathed in through my nose and pressed my hands against my head. “It causes me pain. I am in pain.”

Talia’s face contorted as though she was in pain too. But she finally nodded as if she had decided something, and moved to the table beside her bed. She picked up the object she called a phone.

Her back curled inward and I saw it shaking. Then suddenly she spoke. “Luka,” she said quietly, “I need you to come here now, and bring Kisa with you. It’s Zaal. He’s ready.”

*   *   *

Talia sat on the seat beside me. Her hands were fidgeting in her lap. She was nervous. I took a deep breath as we stared out of the windows, the sea waves crashing against the shore. I closed my eyes listening to those waves, imagining my feet in the cold sand, the breeze wrapping around my body and the sun shining on my face.

My eyes snapped open as I instantly thought of my dream. The boy laying in grass, his brother beside him. I shook my head from the memory. If I thought too hard the pain would return.

Talia shuffled beside me and I turned to her. “Why are you nervous?” I asked. Talia stilled and her brown eyes looked to me.

“I’m waiting for my brother and his wife to get here. They should arrive any minute.” Talia then looked up and met the gazes of her guards. The men were looking at her back, concerned.

The guards did not like me. They would stare at me with narrowed eyes and curled lips. I didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t like them either. They were guards. All guards I had ever met were weak and unfeeling. They punished for their own enjoyment.

Though they seemed to like Talia. They tried to protect her. From what, I did not know. She never talked about her life with me. She never told me anything. I realized that since she had freed me from the basement we hadn’t talked of much at all. We had fucked. I’d held her in my arms, but not much else.

I didn’t understand why.

I opened my mouth to ask Talia again why her brother freed me. Just as I did, a bell sounded. I lurched forward at the sound and the guards left the room.

When Talia and I were left alone, I reached for her arm and turned her to face me. I narrowed my eyes. “You are afraid. Why?”

Talia’s eyes darted to the side. Unable to stand it, I picked her up and placed her on my lap. I placed my palms on her cheeks and made her look up. Her bottom lip trembled. Unwilling to see her upset, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers. She whimpered into my mouth, her hands wrapping into my hair. Pulling away, I held her against me, the heat in her cheeks warming my palm.