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“Yelena’s bodyguard shot me. That was the night I escaped. Aaron Williams is the one who drove me to the hospital.”
“Yelena…as in—”
“Yeah. Viktor’s wife.”
“She’s dead,” I say, perfectly aware she knows.
“She would hit me whenever she could. And she was the reason I finally decided to leave. I mean…she had me shot, you know. That kind of thing brings you back to your senses,” she chuckles. “Her jealousy ran deep because of Viktor’s fascination for me. And from time to time, I fucked her husband. So I guess she had reasons to hate me.” A hint of jealousy shows its ugly head, but I know that if she mentions it, it’s because she feels nothing for him anymore. Not even the need to go back to him.
“She hit you?”
“Oh, yeah. Every time Viktor was out of sight, she was on me.” I feel her nodding against my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you know I got her back whenever I could.”
I smile, my lips against her cheeks. “Of course you did.”
“Viktor told her if she ever touched me again…he’d kill her.”
And he did. That’s how much he wanted Rose. Since she can read my exact thoughts, she adds, “I don’t think loved me, Sam. He needed me alive because his entire organization relies on my brain.”
“Explain that to me,” I coax her, before dropping my lips to the corner of her mouth.
“I will. When I’m not so tired.”
A lie. She’s not ready yet, and I won’t force her.
My hand runs up, stopping at the tattoo on her right hip. A small heart, the size of a coin, with an S in it. It matches my one, the only difference being that it has an R.
“My favorite tattoo,” she tells me softly. Her head turns toward mine and she drops a light kiss on my lips.
Our gazes lock. “I can tattoo you some more if you wish,” I tell her.
“Sure,” she says as she drops her head on my collarbone again.
“Cover this one, maybe,” I say as I run the pads of my fingers below her left breast. The six phases of the moon.
She stays silent, forcing me to ask a question I didn’t want to. “Did you want it?”
“No.”
Why do I feel relieved? She was forced to get a mark she never wanted, and my sick, possessive brain is finally reassured that she didn’t wish for the Wolves’ tattoo.
Next, I run my fingers along her collarbone, her left shoulder. That big tattoo of a snake going through roses.
“I wanted something to take away the pain from the cigarette burns.” She yawns, her head becoming heavier. I look down at her and watch her close her eyes. “Big tattoos hurt for a while. I’m the one who came up with the design. I just wanted to feel something else, and Viktor said yes.”
I keep quiet and drag my fingers to her wrist. The thin line around her right wrist matches the left one.
“Zip ties.” My thoughts spill out before I remember this could possibly trigger her.
“Yeah, god forbid I tried to defend myself against a group of men trying to rape me.” She’s falling asleep, her voice quiet and low. A hoarse whisper that cuts off on certain vowels.
Still, I wince at the word. Fuck I hate the harsh reality of that word.
Going back to her boobs, I trace a thin scar just above her left nipple.
“Rachel. She can play dirty with that knife of hers.”
My hand runs down to her stomach, and I let my palm rest against a group of short, dark lines that scar her golden skin.
