God forbid the control freak miss any detail. When I go back upstairs, I expect to find Karina since she refused to go to the clinic with Konstantin and Kristina despite having a trembling chin.
However, the person who greets me is none other than Anna. She’s carrying a stack of clothes and standing near the stairs as if she was waiting for me.
It hasn’t been that long since I last saw her, but she’s gained a few wrinkles, and her eyes have lost some of the sharp gleam that was a massive part of her personality.
“Hi, Anna,” I say slowly.
“Don’t hi me, young lady.” She pushes the clothes into my hand. “Here are some of Mrs. Kristina’s clothes that she asked me to give you. She figured you’re closer to her in height and body type than Miss Karina.”
My fingers tighten around the clothes. “Thanks.”
I guess that means Kristina is the one who alerted her about my arrival.
Anna reaches into her apron pocket and retrieves a key. “This is for Kirill’s master bedroom. He’s kept it locked for two months and only gave me the key so I could oversee the cleaning.”
He…kept his room closed for two months?
She places the key on top of the clothes. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he better not turn back into whatever bloodthirsty demon he was after you left.”
“What…do you mean?”
“For the first month, he came home soaked with blood. Every single night. Viktor said he was looking for the one responsible for your death and that he was even killing anyone who proved to be useless in his search. Every night, he’d stop in front of his room, touch the door, and then go to his new room. Every night, I had to throw away bloodied clothes because there was no way of salvaging them.”
My fingers tighten around the clothes. On one hand, Anna has no reason to lie. In fact, she’s honest to the point of being blunt and doesn’t stoop to lying.
But on the other hand, I can’t possibly trust Kirill again. Maybe he did those things for an entirely different reason than the obvious.
Anna hikes a hand on her hip. “Today better be the last day I get a new batch of bloodied clothes.”
“I don’t think I can control Kirill’s mood and decisions.”
“You’re the only one who can, you na?ve child.”
I try not to be affected by that and fail miserably. So I rush to change the subject. “Are you going to ask why I was pretended to be a man?”
“I assumed it had something to do with your security. Which is also why Kirill kept it a secret as well.”
“You…knew?”
“I suspected it after seeing you in his bed multiple times. I suspected maybe he swung in the other direction, but…well, there was no other evidence to back that theory.”
“Oh.” So all that time, Anna was turning a blind eye and pretending not to notice.
“Go take a shower and clean up all that blood. I’ll send you some food in a bit.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
“Welcome back, Sasha.” She pats my shoulder. “Both the house and Kirill were unbearably grim without you.”
My chest swells, and I resist the urge to blurt something stupid like, ‘Really?’
I head to the room with heavy steps. I stop in front of the door, and I have to take a few shaky breaths before I turn the key in the lock.
When I go inside, I’m hit by multiple emotions. Everything is exactly as I left it, only there isn’t one of Kirill’s jackets scattered around or my chest bandages thrown on some surface.
The smell is weird, though. It doesn’t smell of us anymore.
I curse to myself. Why the hell would I want it to smell like us?
I storm to the bathroom, take off my clothes, and go into the shower. As I stand beneath the stream of water, images of other activities I did in this same shower slip into my mind, and I have to close my eyes.
But that doesn’t stop the erotic pictures from playing again and again, as if taunting my sexually frustrated body.
With a groan, I turn off the handle, hastily dry myself, and put on the new underwear Kristina gave me, moaning out loud when I accidentally rub my nails on a hard nipple.
Shit. What’s with them being so sensitive? Is it because I’m back here when I thought I never would be?
After regaining my breathing, I put on the soft checkered nightshirt. It’s tight on the hips, but it’s good enough.
I go back into the bedroom and find a tray of food on the coffee table. My stomach growls, and I drink some soup and then eat some fish as I send my uncle a text.
Mission failed. Anton has been captured. I’m staying here until I can bring him home safely. Please don’t interfere while I get this resolved.
I don’t know if he, and especially Babushka, will agree to that. She looks at Anton as if he’s the answer to all her prayers.
But they need to understand that I’m the only one who can save Anton. Knowing Kirill, he’ll make sure of that.
After I finish eating, I yawn.
Today was such a long day. Probably one of the worst I’ve ever had.
My brother is being held captive God knows where.
I can’t leave for three months.
And most importantly, I’ve realized with bitter irony that I can’t kill Kirill. In fact, a part of me is revolting at the fact that I shot him in the first place.
It’s the stupid, loyal, na?ve part that completely lost it when I saw him at the bottom of that hill with a gash in his chest.
I guess I’ll never forget that scene, no matter how much I try or how long it’s been.
With another yawn, I lie on the bed and close my eyes. I’ll just rest for a minute, and then I’ll look for my brother.
Only a minute…
A strong arm wraps around me, and warmth spoons me from behind. It’s a nightmare, I realize.
No, a dream.
The presence behind me doesn’t feel threatening in the least. In fact, I lean into his touch, a soft moan leaving my lips.
I like the Kirill from my dreams. He doesn’t talk and only allows me to use him as comfort against the haunting nightmares.
They don’t come when he’s cuddling me like this.
They don’t interfere with this small fantasy I’ve been pretending I don’t like.
But then the supposedly dream-like Kirill slips what feels like a ring on my finger and whispers in my ear, “Welcome home, Solnyshko.”
13
SASHA
A heavy weight rests on my middle.
Instead of being a burden, it’s actually comforting. I nuzzle my nose against the pillow, and my nostrils flood with the forbidden scent of deep forest and cedar.
Could it be that I’m imagining things?
That’s the only explanation for this sensory overload or why I’m leaning closer to the source.
Warmth engulfs my body and spreads to my chest and core, so I inch over farther, needing more.
My movements pause when something hard nudges my stomach, poking me through my clothes.
“Mmm.”
The rumble of a very familiar deep voice causes my eyes to pop open.
Please tell me this is my imagination—
No.
Nope.
It’s definitely real. I’m actually trapped in Kirill’s embrace, my face resting on his neck until I can almost taste his shower gel on my tongue. I realize with horror that this is what I’ve been smelling since I woke up.