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It was too late by the time I realized Katya had taken my gesture as a sign to come to me instead of a sign to ward her off.
Small arms clasped around my waist. Her head touched my chest. I inhaled her lemony scent and wanted to keep it locked away inside of me.
We stood there for a few beats, her hands soothingly rubbing my back. Then I pulled away, not wanting to get any blood on her.
I turned on the faucet and washed my hands. I sensed her watching me but she said nothing about the blood.
“Is everything okay with the little girl?”
My jaw clenched. “Yuri told you.” If he hadn’t already been recovering, I would have reamed his ass.
“Only that you were helping to get her free.” She waited for me to turn and face her. “You never talk about your family.”
What was there to tell? “My Bratva is my family.”
She hopped onto the kitchen counter, making herself comfortable. “I mean your biological one.”
I grabbed a towel and dried my hands. “You already know about them. My mother’s dead. And my half-brother, Hector, well…He’s the one who came to ask for my help this morning.” Even though he hated my guts. Because that was the kind of man he was. A man who didn’t give a shit about his pride when it came to his family. Hector had chosen a different path. One that led to a more “American Dream” kind of life, with a white picket fence and kids. How could I not help him out?
“You’re not on speaking terms,” she surmised.
I put away the towel and leaned against the counter. “No. There was no time for that.”
She quirked a brow. “How can you not find time to talk to your brother?”
Because I had been knee-deep in guts in the middle of Siberia. I should go and leave her questions unanswered, but I couldn’t. As always, Katya was my center of gravity.
“I wasn’t around to talk to him. After my mother died, I left for Russia with Sokolov.”
Her lips pursed. I couldn’t blame her. The one time she’d met him was at a Bratva gathering and the experience hadn’t exactly been a pleasure.
“For how long?”
“Long enough.”
“Maybe for too long,” she said with a challenge in her voice. “Perhaps you should have stayed with your brother instead of following Sokolov.”
I could see how it looked like I’d abandoned my brother. To her, that would be a cardinal sin. She and her mother had been a team, two peas in a pod, never letting each other go—until her mother’s untimely death.
I should let this go. Should shrug off the edge in her voice that seemed to blame me. I walked up to her until I stood between her legs. She sucked in a breath but didn’t move.
So, so brave. And stubborn. I put my hands on the tops of her thighs.
“Sokolov was the best thing that happened to me after my mother’s death. No one has taught me more about life and death than he has.” Because no one had lost as much as he had. “You shouldn’t judge people by things you can’t comprehend.”
“And what is it exactly that I don’t comprehend?” she spat back. “That you followed a mobster instead of choosing your brother?”
Instead of choosing me.
The unspoken words resonated between us like a dark symphony. I tried to ignore her scent, a sweet citrus fragrance with a hint of popcorn, but my body wouldn’t listen. I was fucked in the head when it concerned her, though I didn’t know why.
My hands encircled her waist, holding on to her, refusing to let go. The heat of her skin seeped into me, warming me like nothing else could. Her nipples hardened underneath her top and it was all I could do not to suckle them.
I swallowed. This could never happen. The deprived things I wanted to do to her should only exist in my mind. I owed Sokolov everything. More than that, I had chosen a different path than my brother. My yellow brick road ended somewhere different than his did, and it meant that I could never have a family of my own. I couldn’t afford to become too attached. It was too dangerous.
A soft hand landed on my arm. Fingers ran through the strands of my hair, caressing my scalp. I drew in her scent and soaked up her heat one last time before I stepped back.
“Don’t test me, Katya. I would consume you.”
