“You think the Veronians will give me that?”
“I know the O’Donnellys want that boy in power.” He saysboyin the same vein others would saypervert. “I know you like him.” Another sneer. “It fits that you’d go out of your way to help. You have a good soul,pchelka.”
“Not so good now,” I rasp, the words breaking.
“Do you believe in heaven?”
I think about the sermons I’ve attended with the very Catholic O’Donnellys. Though, to me, they’re not Catholic at all. They go through the motions for Lena, their mom, and their wives get draggedalong before they can feast on a family roast dinner while gathering to bitch about their week.
Honestly, I put up with it, too, for Aunt Aoife’s roasted potatoes and Lena’s beef—depending on who’s hosting us.
“No. I don’t believe in heaven.”
“So, does it matter if your soul is good or bad?”
“To me? Yes.”
“Then don’t be a cold-blooded murderer.”
Annoyed, I snap, “It’s not as simple as that.”
“Da, it is. You have choices. You didn’t have to do that tonight. You chose to do it. The rituals tie you to them but not forever.
“Once you become a brother, leaving is no longer an option. This isstillyour choice.” Both hands cup my shoulders, the fingers digging in as he vows, “You have ‘a cold-blooded murderer’ at your command, Victoria. I don’t mind taking lives if it gives you what you want. I will shed blood to make sure that you always have a say in whatever it is you do.
“It’s my honor andmy dutyto protect your right to consent to whatever life throws in your path. Understood?”
His words swirl over the traumas of my past and the uncertainty of my future like a soothing balm on unhealed wounds.
It’s not enough but… “Thank you, Maxim.”
“Anything for you,korovka.”
And the craziest part?
He meansanything.
EIGHT
I ONLY PUT OUT FOR MY WIFE
When she throwsthe top on the floor, I grit my teeth at the strap-free expanse of her back.
Rationally, I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. But seeing is believing.
“I need to burn your clothes,” I tell her gruffly. “If there’s blood on them, I don’t want you wearing them again.”
“Over a hundred people witnessed me kill someone, Maxim. I think if my cookie is baked, then I just have to accept it and you can whisk me away to the Dalmatian Coast.”
I grimace. “You’d make a terrible criminal.”
She barks out a laugh. “Why, thank you.”
Her hands cup her breasts, as if she regrets tossing her modesty to the wind, then she sticks up her chin, gives a little self-aimed nod, and lets go.
My gaze drops to the pert tips that bud under my attention. The urge to bite them has me clenching my jaw.
She ignores me and walks over to the door she found earlier that leads to a bathroom. The sound of antique plumbing groans to life, in turn makingmegroan.
