57. Chapter 57

57

Leonid

“ T he plan was to kill me.” She says again, like she’s only just beginning to believe it herself.

“I’m so … fucking stupid.” Clara muttered under her breath.

I can see it in the way her body trembles, her chest heaving as she tries—and fails—to push me away. Her fury burns bright, a wildfire consuming everything in its path, but underneath it, I see the cracks. The pain. The betrayal.

Blayt . I hate it.

I hate the way my name sounds on her lips when she spits it like a curse. I hate the tears glistening in her eyes, the ones she refuses to let fall. But most of all, I hate the truth that I can’t protect her from —not this time.

I’ve broken bones, slit throats, and spilled blood without a second thought, but none of that prepared me for this. For her. For the way she’s looking at me now, like I’m the reason her world is collapsing. Like I’m the enemy.

She doesn’t realize how much it kills me to see her like this.She looks at me with those blue eyes, raw and wet with unshed tears, it’s like standing in the middle of a fire. I know I’m the one who lit it, but I’d still burn to ashes if it meant saving her.

“Why?” she chokes out, “Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes prick with tears, but she link them back,

Because I love you , Clara Caldwell . I almost say. But I bite it back.

I hold her arms firmly, keeping her from pulling away. When she flinches, her body jerking under my grip, I ease my hands just enough to stop myself from bruising her. The tension between us is electric, her chest rising and falling unevenly against the stillness of the room.

She doesn’t try to hide the flicker of pain in her expression, and it guts me in a way I don’t expect. My thumb brushes over her skin without thinking, stopping near the edge of a fading mark from the attack that almost took her from me. I remember the blood, the limp weight of her in my arms, and the way I’d promised myself this would never happen again. But here I am, holding her while she looks at me like I’m the one who pulled the trigger.

“Because you deserve the truth,” I say. watching her closely. “Even if it destroys you.”

"Destroy me?"

Clara shifts, her body drawing closer to mine as she yanks away from my grip. The movement accentuates the contours of her breasts beneath the white fabric of her shirt, their tantalizing bounce sending a hot rush of lust surging to my cock.

For fuck’s sake, Leonid.

Why do I have to be such a blin ? One look at Clara’s curves and my cock is harder than a frozen Kalashnikov.

“You think I’m not already destroyed? You think this doesn’t—?” She stops, her gaze darting to the next room where Elijah sleeps.

She squeezes her eyes shut, a pained groan escaping her lips. I don't move, even as she shifts closer until her breasts press against my chest. Her breath comes in short bursts against my neck.

"All these years..." Tears fall as she grips my shirt. Her body shakes against, fists pressed weakly against my chest. I don't let her go. One hand stays firm on her waist, the other cups the back of her head.

Clara’s head snaps up, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “You think telling me this fixes anything? It doesn’t.”

“It just proves I can’t trust anyone—not Stephan, not Jake, and definitely not you.”

She looks at me like I’m the enemy. Like I’m the one who betrayed her, broke her trust, shattered her world. And maybe I am. Maybe I deserve every bit of it. But there’s no way I’m walking away now.

“I’m not your enemy, Clara,” I say quietly. She doesn’t hear me.

She’s in her head now.

"You think I can come back from this?"

I want to tell her yes. That she's stronger than she knows, that I'll make sure she gets through this no matter what it costs me. I hold her tighter as she presses her face into my neck.

“You will.”

Her body stiffens, her anger flaring again. “How?” she demands, shoving against my chest. Her fists connect with me, but I don’t move. Her strength is nothing compared to the fire raging in her, and I’ll take whatever she needs to give. “How the hell am I supposed to do that, Leonid? Tell me!”

Her fists pound against me again, harder this time, but I don’t let go. I let her rage, let her scream into my chest. “I will protect what’s mine.”

The words hang between us. Clara's body goes still against mine, but I feel the tension coiling in her muscles. When she lifts her head, her eyes are blazing.

"Yours?" She's still fighting me, but her body betrays her. Each push against my chest brings her closer, until I can feel her heart hammering against mine. Her scent—vanilla and gunpowder—fills my lungs. Blyat , even broken, she's dangerous.

“Yes, Krasotka . Mine.”I lean forward, brushing my lips against her ear. Her pulse races under my fingers, fast and frantic, and I let myself revel in it for a moment. “You’ve always been mine.”

Clara’s eyes dart to my room, her resolve still strong. "You’re delusional," she murmurs, her lips parting slightly as she glances at my mouth. Then, just as quickly, she looks away, turning her face to the side.

I catch her wrists in one hand, pulling her closer until she's flush against me. I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp.

Seizing the opportunity of her stillness, I take her mouth with mine, parting her lips with my tongue and devouring her like a wolf on the hunt. As Clara’s senses return, she claws at my chest, her fingers digging into my shirt like talons. I claim her lips, my mouth moving over hers with a hunger that can’t be sated.

Her tongue matches my hunger, its desperation stirring me into a frenzy. I pull Clara’s body against mine, her soft breasts crushing against my chest. My hand tangles in her beautiful hair, tugging her head back as I move my mouth down her throat.

Her scent, rich and intoxicating, dances across my tongue as I taste her warm skin. She moans, and the vibrations reverberate through my lips, shooting sparks straight to my cock.

Without hesitation, I cup her breast beneath the fabric of her shirt. Clara’s arms encircled my neck, a tacit invitation that only fuel my desire. My thumb glides over the swell of her breast, tracing the hard peak of her nipple. My cock strained against my pants, begging for the chance to bury itself deep inside her.

Blyat! My cock aches at the mere thought of what I want to do to her. I want to suckle her nipple, to make her come with my fingers. The need to tear her clothes off and fuck her here on the chair hits me like a sledgehammer. Hard. Fast. Make her remember who she belongs to.

I want to make her scream my name, to remind her exactly who she belongs to, but my mind catches on one detail.

My kid — our son —sleeping right next door. Poshol na khuy.

Govno . I uncoil my arm from around her waist, my fingers brushing the fabric of her shirt as I release her. The cold absence of her body stings, but I step back, forcing the space between us.

“ Krasotka… we’ll have to wait.” The words scrape their way out, jagged and unwelcome, but I mean them. For now.

“Wait?” Clara stares at me, wide-eyed, her lips parted, red and swollen from my kiss. Her chest heaves with every breath, her shirt clinging to her skin, and the dim light from the lamp nearby paints her in chaos. – Wild hair. Flushed cheeks. Eyes burning with defiance, with confusion, with heat.

She looks like she’s about to claw me apart or beg me for more. I can’t decide which would be better.

“Yes, wait.” I drag a hand over my face, willing myself to ignore the hard ache straining against my pants. “Elijah—” I stop, catching her gaze, her pupils blown wide like a rabbit caught in headlights. “ Our son . He’s sleeping next door.”

I watch her face go white. Her eyes widen.

" Our son," I repeat. "He's sleeping. Next. Door."