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“I’ll kill every last person in this fucking house if it means keeping the two of you safe.” He leaned down and kissed me, holding the bloody axe away from me. “Now be a good girl.”
He left.
Once he’d gone, I did as he’d instructed and locked the door.
I stripped the rags from my body and slipped on a dress that didn’t make me look like a scarecrow. In the sudden quiet, there was time to notice I was sore from when Vas had violated me with his fingers.
Those fingers were attached to what was now a dead man.
I shuddered in revulsion, trying to think of the encounter as something a stranger had done on the Island where I’d met my husbands. I missed it there. It was a brutal, painful place, but at least it was honest. No one there had taken me by surprise the way Vas had. In a place like that, a woman knew what to expect.
It wasn’t like I’d trusted Vas—I’d barely known the man, but I also hadn’t expected him to assault me.
Now he was dead.
Ilya had worked so hard to win Vas’s approval, and all he’d gotten was betrayal and possibly a twenty-year sentence if Russian law was anything like American law.
I wandered into the bathroom, not in the mood to be alone with my thoughts. Steam filled the room, and I turned on the fan. Ilya wiped the water from his eyes and turned to look at me.
“Are you okay?” He planted his hands on the glass shower surround. He’d been in long enough that the water running off him was clear rather than pink with blood.
I shrugged.
“I’m sorry I listened to Bron and came to shower instead of checking on you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“You know damn well this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me—it’s the only time anyone has cared enough to make sure it never happens again.” I kissed the glass where his palm rested against it.
“You’re not afraid of me or angry that I lost control of my temper?”
“Hell, no. Are you upset you killed your father to keep me safe?”
“He tried to rape you,” he said, as though the only logical response had been violent axe murder. I imagined him murdering the entire soccer team from my high school, but at the time, him being seven years older than me would have been creepy.
“You saw what Bron did to the man who attacked you in the park. I expected more from the man I’ve been trying to impress for most of my life.”
His mouth twisted. Rivulets of water followed the hard grooves and bulges of his arms, torso, and legs. He was so beautiful, and not just on the outside. It wasn’t fair that no one in his family except Bron loved him the way he deserved.
The civilized part of my brain was telling me I should be repulsed. Instead, I felt safe. I felt valued.
“I don’t understand why my brothers allowed him to do that to their wives. What kind of men am I related to? They are all cowards, except for Bron.” He scrubbed himself down with soap, then scraped under his short nails. “I’m sure I’m not the man you thought you were marrying. If you want a divorce, I won’t blame you.”
“You protected me without worrying about what would happen to you afterward. That’s exactly who I thought you were, although I didn’t think you’d go so far—or ever need to.”
He rinsed away the soap and shut off the water. Rather than getting out, he stood there and watched the water running down the drain. I grabbed a clean towel and opened the shower door to hand it to him.
“I’m a murderer.”
“You don’t think he was, too?”
“I know he was.”
I helped him dry off. He leaned on me, and I hugged him. The dampness of his skin seeped through my clean dress, but I needed the contact as much as he seemed to.
It was hard to say which one of us was more of a mess. Ilya was doing his best to keep his emotions masked, but I could tell he was a bundle of nerves under that.
“I’m sorry I told you what he did. I’m sorry you felt like you had to defend me like that.”
He hugged me tighter. “Don’t be sorry. If you can’t even rely on me to protect you, then what kind of husband would I be? As much as we like to play rough with you, that doesn’t mean your safety isn’t important to us. You belong to us, and any other man who tries to harm you will get what he deserves.”
“I could have cooperated. I didn’t need to make a fuss.”
“And he could have chosen not to be a treacherous piece of shit. He’s been coercing women and forcing them to service him. Bron and his mother struggled for every mouthful of food she earned working in his kitchen, and he let that happen. He probably exiled me just because he didn’t like my mother.” He buried his face in my hair and inhaled. “My father wasn’t a good man.”
We had just left the bathroom when Bron came in. There was blood on his clothes.
“What happened out there? Are you hurt?” Ilya demanded.
“I dismembered Vas. Oleg will dispose of him.” Bron had said Vas was into some criminal shit, but he’d had his sons disposing of bodies for him?
“Wouldn’t it be easier to move a body that was intact?” Ilya asked.
Bron shrugged. “Probably.”
The satisfaction on his face as he went to take his turn in the shower was enough of an explanation.
