33. Natalia

33

NATALIA

We sit out on the patio for a while. It's nice to be in the warm, dark silence. It makes my thoughts seem less sharp around the edges. But when my eyelids start to droop, I stand.

Andrey stands with me and takes my hand. We're walking back to our room when I notice that Misha's light is still on.

I pause, staring at the sliver of light coming through the crack at the bottom of the door. Remy's whine is faint but steady.

I glance helplessly at Andrey.

"Go," he says, releasing my hand.

I push myself up on my tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek. Andrey disappears upstairs while I knock gently on Misha's door.

I'm met with a few seconds of silence. Then: "I'm fine, Natalia."

But his shaky voice says otherwise.

"Then open the door."

"No."

"I can break it down," I warn him. "I punched a man in the face with brass knuckles today, so I'm tough now."

A second later, the door swings open. Misha's eyes are red-rimmed and his lower lip has been chewed raw. "You did what to who ?"

I sweep past him before he can stop me and join Remi on the bed. With a sigh, Misha snaps the door shut and leans against his bedpost. "Was it the man who abducted you?"

"Yes, but that's not why I punched him. I punched him because he suggested we leverage you to make a deal with Nikolai."

Misha blinks, his chin quavering for only a second before he catches himself.

"He thought you were his golden ticket to freedom, but I wasn't about to stand by and let him use you like a commodity."

"I'm no commodity." He drops his eyes to the floor. "I'm worthless."

My heart cracks, but I hold the pieces together and offer him my hand. "Come sit by me."

"I shouldn't be here. I don't deserve—" He looks around the room as though this level of comfort is too good for him. "—any of this."

"Did you hear what I said about the brass knuckles? I can knock some sense into you if I need to."

Finally, a smile pokes through the anxiety. "Did you really do that?"

"Sure did. It felt great, too. I felt powerful—and you know what? I would never have been able to do it if it weren't for you."

He frowns.

"I'm serious, Misha. I would do anything for you. It's the nature of being a mother."

His bottom lip trembles. "My mother didn't always jump to defend me," he admits, sitting down on the very corner of the bed.

"Because she knew that getting involved would only make things worse for you," I suggest with more conviction than I have any right to feel. I don't know the woman from Adam, but I feel confident in my assumptions. "But she did protect you, in her own way. She made sure to be on Nikolai's good side. You were the only boy on the compound with sneakers, remember?" I clutch his forearm. "Your mother was a brave woman, Misha. She did what she could to protect you with the tools at her disposal."

A tear slips down Misha's cheek. Then another, and another, until he's full-on crying and I can't hold myself back anymore.

I pull him into my arms. His head crashes on my lap and he sobs as Remi licks his hand. "It's okay, sweetheart. Let it out. Let it all out."

With every sob, my heart forms a new crack. But I just hold him tighter, whispering words of comfort into his ear, hoping that my arms will keep him together the same way Andrey's did for me.

When Misha's crying finally subsides, his eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are stained with tears. "I'm sorry."

I cup his face. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

He bites his lip, though the poor thing is already shredded to ribbons. "Is… is Andrey mad?"

"Of course not!"

He flinches. "But I'm his enemy's son."

"You didn't ask to be."

"But… I've done things, Natalia," he insists. "I've done things I shouldn't have done because of Nikolai?—"

"It doesn't matter. You were trying to survive. We all do things we're not proud of when it comes to life or death. You didn't have a choice, Misha. Neither did your mother. Andrey knows that."

He keeps scratching at his own bleeding lip.

"Misha," I say, drawing his eyes to mine, "what is it?"

"My own father couldn't care about me," Misha whispers. "Why would Andrey?"

I have to bite down on my tongue to keep myself from sobbing like a baby. Be strong for him, Natalia. Be strong.

"Because Andrey is a different man. It's the family you choose that matters, Misha. And you are the family we choose."

He blinks and two fat tears drip down his cheeks.

"Now, you're going to lie down and I'm going to stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?"

I expect some pushback, but Misha just nods and lies down obediently. It takes only a few strokes of his hair before his eyes get heavy. Soon after that, his breathing is a soft, even snore.

By the time I get upstairs, I'm exhausted to my bones, but my mind is whirring.

Andrey is sitting up in bed, waiting for me. "How is he?"

I pull off my clothes and climb under the covers. "Broken."

Andrey touches my chin until I have to look him in the eye. "How are you?"

I dab away the tears still glistening on my cheeks. "Drained. And pissed. What kind of man—what kind of monster —would use his own son like that?"

Andrey's silver eyes smolder, and I know he feels the same way I do. "The kind of monster that needs to be stopped," he grits.

"You have to kill him, Andrey."

Andrey smiles, though it's tinged with sadness. "My little bird has talons. Who knew?"

I'm in no mood to make light of things, though. "You need to talk to Misha again tomorrow. He's convinced that a part of you will hate him now that you know who he really is."

"Of course I don't hate him. My only instinct is to protect him. As much as those babies in your belly."

I throw my arms around him, and he falls back against the bed under my weight. "You're amazing."

He snorts. "You're only saying that because I saved your life."

"I'm not." Hiking myself up on one elbow, I look down at him, tracing the lines of his face. "Watching you work today… that was amazing, too."

He chuckles. "Now, I know you're tired."

"I'm being serious. It was actually—" I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. "—kind of a turn-on."

He stops short, his eyebrow arching. "A turn-on, you say?"

"Don't get me wrong; I'm still not into violence. But I don't know—something about the… brutality." I slap my hands over my eyes. "That didn't come out the way I meant it to."

Pushing me down, Andrey slides his body over mine. "Then try again," he whispers into my ear.

My skin tingles as he pulls at my earlobe with his teeth. "Now, it's hard to think straight." Especially with the way his erection is pressing against my thigh.

"Should I get off you?"

I grab his shoulders. "Don't you dare."

Smiling, he presses his lips to my neck. "Then I suggest you give it another try."

I wrinkle my nose in concentration. "Well, it's just something about seeing you take charge like that. Watching you be the pakhan —you never faltered, never backed down. You were confident and determined and… hot ."

"I knew it. I'm just a piece of meat to you."

Half-heartedly, I try to push him off me, but he's circling his lips over my nipple, wetting the thin material of my shirt.

"You're much more than just a piece of meat to me," I say softly. "So much more."

His face rises up to hover over mine. I can see myself reflected in the bright silver of his eyes. "You like when I defend you?"

My eyes flutter. "I… love it."

"Do you know why I do it?"

I bite my lip. "Tell me."

"Because you're mine." The words send a shiver down my spine like I knew they would. "And anyone who tries to hurt you will suffer for it."

He works his hand between my legs and a finger into my wetness. I devolve into a writhing mess beneath him. Everything from there is a blur of sensation and heat, pressure and breath—and the underlying bedrock of it all is Andrey.

So solid.

So real.

So there.