Page 193

I’m shaking my head before he can complete his sentence. I don’t know if I’ll go back to wanting to kill myself tomorrow. But for now, I’m grateful to see Sergei’s face.

Watching him fall after me, the scared look on his face when he tried to reach me is haunting, it clings to me, sending chills down my spine.

“I want to stay.” I mumble; every word filled with impenetrable guilt and regret. “For you. I’ll try harder.”

I don’t want to abandon him.

He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, and my nose. “I’m going to kill him, solnyshko.”

“A-Austin?” My voice sounds terrifying to my own ears. “He said he’ll hurt you. No, s-stay away from him—”

“Not him. He’s dead. That bitch’s friend—”

“What do you mean he’s dead?” I don’t believe my own ears, but one look at his face tells me he’s not lying.

The certainty in his gaze, the wrath simmering within, brings my rampant thoughts to a screeching halt.

“I killed him, just like I’ll kill that motherfucker.”

“Sergei.”

“Yes, baby?” He cups my cheeks gently; the action is a complete contrast to the rage in his eyes. “Tell me, anything for you, malyshka.”

“He…is-is he really d-dead?”

“Do you need his heart as a proof too?” He adds and then nods.

I wrap my arms around him and sit on his lap ignoring the IV drip in my hand or the wounds or the world.

“I’m sorry, I was too late—”

“Shut up and kiss me.” And I attack his mouth, relief washes over me when he reciprocates. He is not disgusted that I was used and he believes me.

He believes me.

He killed for me.

His tongue lashes against mine, fighting for dominance, licking and sucking my lips before thrusting inside. His grip on my neck tightens, pulling me impossibly closer.

He’s hungry, but I’m deprived.

If I had died, I wouldn’t be able to kiss him again.

“E—” He tries to speak around my mouth but I don’t let him.

“Elara.” He presses his palm to my forehead, pushing me back and my body follows, unable to fight him. “You are going to hurt yourself, calm the fuck down.”

“But—”

“Calm. Down.” He almost glares, then his eyes travel down, grazing over my neck, pausing at my chest briefly before halting to check my wrists.

“Sergei?” I gingerly ask, fear spreading through my body at a maddening pace.

“You tried to leave me.” His voice is so low, almost heartbreaking as he peers at my bandaged wrists. “Again.”

He inhales loudly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Can…you stop—can you stop leaving?” He breathes again, failing to calm himself.