2. Inessa

With every inch of skin that's freed from blood, I want to cry. There are marks all over Vlad's beautiful body. They mix with the older ones, and the stubborn fucking idiot refuses to sit down. His breathing is harsher as he keeps staring at me, and I drop down to the balls of my feet when he keeps his head out of reach.

I've never felt pain like in those days he wasn't here. It was limbo, he wasn't dead and wasn't alive. There was no gloating from the fuckers of the MC and no body dropped at the gates.

Holding my nape, he becomes his usual deadly self as he asks, "Did they hurt you?"

I nearly laugh at his stupidity; he's stood with blood all over him, wounds to match, but he thinks he's in any state to hurt anyone. It's evident that the chapter has officially been closed, courtesy of whatever destruction he's done over the last four weeks.

I don't look away from his eyes, or I'll end up seeing how badly he's hurt, then crying. So, I deadpan, "Are you going to bring them back to life just to kill them again?"

I expect some dumbass reply filled with arrogance except it's emotion and softness brushing my lips.

"You're under my protection. No one will hurt you."

I nod at his conviction, and he loosens his hands on my face enough for me to work around the front of his body. He's hard, and I try not to stare, but he notices and steps into me.

The heat of the water can't battle the goosebumps rising on my skin as he tilts my head up and seals his lips over mine. I have to remind myself he's injured and plant my feet, forcing my weight down as he grabs my thighs. The stubborn fool doesn't let me and picks me up, pressing my back flush against the cool tiles. His voice is rough as I massage his reddened shoulders.

"You won't like who I become if you ever let anyone else touch you."

I keep massaging up until I'm holding his neck and raise an eyebrow as the bloodied water continues to drip from his inky hair.

"Because you're so even-tempered normally?" I ask, forcing my laugh back.

His fingers flex, digging into my thigh, and he pushes more of his weight into me before grabbing my neck. He doesn't apply any pressure as he loosely holds my life in his hand and strokes beneath my jaw.

His eyes blaze with emotion that he doesn't voice. There are too many to name, and he straightens to lean over me. Each droplet leaving his hair carries proof of his violence as it hits my skin. He watches them race down my cheeks and just breathes. He doesn't speak or attempt to get a reaction out of me, he just breathes as though it's the hardest task in the world and requires his full devotion.

I can't even breathe in anticipation of what he's going to say. It will most likely be something stupid, but my heart rate slows down as he leans further into me. The emotion fractures, turning to anger as he rests his forehead on the tile slightly above my head. My nose is kissing a cut below his collarbone, and he speaks to himself, showing a weakness.

"I need you to be safe." He blows out a harsh breath and the anger increases as he repeats himself, "Fuck, I need you to be safe."

It doesn't stop as he tightens his hold on my thighs and successfully makes me feel like shit while simultaneously telling me he cares.

"I need you to be fucking safe."

It's forced out through gritted teeth, and I push against his chest so I can get away from him.

He pauses and I sound cold, more hurt than I aimed for.

"If caring for me is such a burden, stop."

This is why he's filled with scars, because he's a dick even when telling his own fucking wife that he cares about her. I'm destined to be a burden, a weight on the back of the people who should care about me. It will never change and that isn't a fault of anyone, but it's a quality I possess.

Vlad loosens his hands, and I take the opportunity, attempting to drop to my feet. He tightens them before my toes can touch the ground, and I don't react to the feeling of his dick brushing between my thighs. I remain fixed on the glass, watching the fog and the droplets race down. His voice is rough, dulling the sound of the shower spray.

"Look at me."

He's getting what he wants. I've shut up, but nothing is ever good enough for the mighty Vartanov.

"Inessa."

Still no reaction. He has two things to apologize to me for before I'll look at him.

My back slides up the wall as he lifts me. My hair does the same, getting caught in the condensation, but I keep my eyes straight and let my arms limply fall to my sides.

"You're a fucking brat."

I don't even understand why he's complaining. He never stops telling me to shut up. If our marriage had a word tree, it would be filled with ‘shut up', ‘close your mouth', ‘be quiet', ‘stop talking' and every other variation to exist.

I'm content staring at the glass as I make a game to occupy myself. There are two beads of water close to each other, and they fall in a zig-zag motion, so I intently watch them, waiting to see if they'll absorb the other. The hands on the back of my thighs abruptly leave, and I slip down the wall as Vlad takes half a step back. My hands whip out, grabbing onto his shoulders, but he wraps his hand around my biceps, steadying me with a dumb fucking smirk on his face.

"Stop being a brat, and I won't have to scare you."

"You do not scare me," I fire back.

I'm glaring at him as I break my own game. He just smiles and guides us under the spray as he changes the setting to increase the pressure. It's more forceful, like being caught in the rain, and he smooths his hands over my hips to hold my ass. Our hips are stuck together. His dick is going to leave an imprint in my stomach, but he's relaxed.

"Caring for anyone is a burden, a weakness that will live outside of my body. Would you be able to say it's different?"

I move away from his face, which is slowly inching closer to cut off any reply.

"Yes." My voice comes out harsh with conviction. "Because I'm not you, and I don't separate my life based on strengths and weaknesses. Emotions aren't a weakness, and being a heartless prick isn't strength."

His eyes darken in contrast to the soft smile on his face as he cups my jaw and stares at my lips.

"Do you think I'm heartless, meelaya?"

No.

That's my first thought. No, he isn't heartless because he cares about his family in his own twisted way. By the standards of the general population, the less psychotic people in existence, he's worse because he has the capacity to care and refuses to.

He softly brushes along the delicate bone of my jaw and accepts my non-answer with a threat.

"I hope you never do anything for me to show you what heartless really is."

Grabbing his wrist, I pull on it and lean up on my toes to speak against his face.

"I hope you never do anything for me to show you exactly what I'm capable of."

He pauses, the anger entering back into his bloodstream as he grips my face tighter and looks across each of my eyes. He controls himself, taking three breaths, and closes his eyes on the third. When they open again, he's managed to push it away and says two words that make me dizzy.

"You're mine."

I'm lifted off my feet from the force of his lips slamming into mine. He doesn't let me feel any strain and wraps his arm around my middle before straightening to his full height and taking me with him. My fingers are pruning, but I don't care because he's finally showing emotion that isn't rooted in death, but life. I return it and stroke my fingers through his hair. I don't move until I notice his shoulder beginning to droop and I push my weight down.

Authority fills me as I order him to move.

"Don't touch me and turn around so I can get your back."

He ignores me and shakes his head to pick up his body wash. Vlad complains I'm stubborn when he's injured and acting like this is all normal. The only tell that he can feel it comes when he washes himself. His hands are slower, but there's no grimace. He's an idiot, a stupid fucking idiot, who's going to injure himself more because he's too fucking proud to admit that he's human and feels things like pain.

Stepping around him, I grab the chair and position it at his back. He doesn't stop me until I stand on it. His rough voice bounces off the tile.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

He hasn't been back from the dead for a full day and he's already pissing me off.

"I'll hurt you if you don't start listening to me."

I breathe through my warning, and he turns to face me. His hands go to my thighs to keep me steady, and they don't leave. I like the position because it puts my head above his and he has to look up at me, for once.

There's no argument and he keeps at least one hand on me as he passes me his shampoo. The deep intensity re-enters his eyes as I gently tilt his head back so none of the suds get in his wounds or eyes. This Vlad is the most dangerous, the most capable of harm, because he's vulnerable. It may not be violent, but I know he's going to break me. I'm suddenly aware of what I'm doing, pampering a murderer, and it doesn't make me uncomfortable. He's not the monster or the man people fear, no, in this moment, locked away from the world in our bathroom, he's just my husband.

My hands linger once there's no more grime or blood in his hair. He allows me to stand there, on the chair, with my fingertips gently massaging his scalp. Some of his cuts are still open, the water washing the blood away before it can pool against his skin, and I don't look further down in fear of my own reaction. My body sways forward and my voice is too low as I beg, "Don't get hurt again."

I've seen him covered in blood. It was fine when it was other people's. There's a different smell in the air, knowing that it belongs to Vlad.

There's no acknowledgement of my request as he lifts me by the back of my thighs and wraps my legs around his waist. He silences me with a kiss under my ear and strokes up my back to gently place my head on his shoulder before he turns off the spray and walks us out of the shower. No stupid comment, or joke. He kisses my temple and my eyes slowly close, knowing he's choosing not to make a promise he'll break. There's comfort in that, in the fact that he respects me enough not to lie to me.

He keeps walking, ignoring his pained body, until we get to our bed, and he lies on his back without removing me. Each sweep of his hand down my back fills me with warmth as I lay there watching his lashes slowly move. I have to force myself to move and there's no heat in my voice as I peel his hand off me.

"Do you want shorts, or should I cover you with a blanket before I call Dima to stitch you up?"

He switches his neurosis back on and sits up, being a dumbass.

"No one else comes in here."

I'm surprised he never gets tired of his trust issues. It's exhausting being around them without them belonging to me. I let the argument drop, knowing he'll just speak over me and go to the closet to get him some shorts before he ends up passing out.

His footsteps aren't silent for once as he follows me into the closet and steps behind me. There's a towel in his hands, and he squeezes the excess water out of my hair before pulling my robe off the back of the door and wrapping it around me. It mimics his actions before he disappeared for four weeks, and my accusation is a heavy weight in the room.

"You said you were coming home."

Vlad promised he'd be there when I woke up, and he also promised not to leave me. Death counts as leaving me, and I refuse to accept that it will ever come for him.

I'm gently tugged forward as he double knots the belt at my waist. His fingers are warm as he delicately holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger to demolish all his promises.

"I will lie, cheat, steal, and do whatever I need to for my family to be safe. No one takes from me, Inessa, and if they attempt to, I'll do what I need to stop anyone from thinking there can be a repeat."

I nod and stop all the questions I have that will only make me look needy as I weakly hold out his shorts.

Once he's dressed, he lets me stay tucked to his side. I can't leave him alone; I've only just got him back, and it hasn't fully sunk in yet that he's here to stay and not a figment of my imagination. Dima is already waiting with the others when we go into the lounge, and it's like we've gone back in time. Viktor doesn't look at anyone and he's stuck to Dani's side at whatever he witnessed. The angry mark on his face will be with him for life, and his eye is still bloodshot from where the cunts hit him. Who the fuck punches a child?

Vlad doesn't move me as he takes a seat with his brothers, and I reluctantly let him go so Dima can stitch him up. There's no twinge or wince from the needle puncturing his skin. I do that for him as I watch, making sure nothing fucks up. The miserable man is uncharacteristically emotional. There's no grumble on his lips, and I change my assessment from his hands to his eyes. I don't think they're in a relationship, he has the type of care Val and Tali have — admirable respect for an older sibling.

Val passes the head of the family back to his brother as he brings up the topic everyone fucking loathes.

"Len called. I made up some bullshit about you being away for business."

Vlad nods once, and he stretches out, allowing me to hook my little finger under his, resting on his knees, as he begins ordering everyone again as though he never left.

"Keep it that way for everyone. This shit doesn't leave the house." Turning to me, he adds, "You've got your fundraiser in a week. We'll all be there."

I open my mouth to argue that he needs rest, but he hardens, glaring at my lips.I'll give him a reprieve on account of blood loss and being injured. As soon as he's back to normal physically, then so am I verbally. Staying tucked in his side, he doesn't move away. For once, he just sits. There's nothing for him to deal with or chase down. I don't think he has ever known peace, or even rest. He always moves from one thing to the next, calculating his path, and my sleep-deprived brain finally gives in now that he's finally home and everything feels complete.

My blinks get slower until my eyes are closed as I lean against his chest. Dima's voice is low as he finishes up the stitches.

"She hasn't been sleeping."

Vlad's palm covers my ear, blocking out the sound as they switch to their mother tongue, and he massages my scalp, pulling me to sleep. It's even better when he talks, and the deep rumble against my other ear is like a noise machine. Some people need calming waves or white noise. I need Vlad so I'm comfortable.

My eyes don't open as I'm slowly tilted, and my head is gently placed on cushioned thighs. I don't twitch when a blanket is draped over me or when people move around. Continuing to massage my scalp with my nose pressed to his abs, he keeps his voice low when it's just his brothers remaining.

"Inessa and Dani need guards, one team with them and a second that blend in. Go through your groups and find the best. I'll test them."

Everyone is quiet, and I'm eavesdropping. It's not my fault, my mind won't sleep despite my body being exhausted. I like listening to them interacting, seeing how much he cares about his family and doesn't have any heat behind his order.

"Get your tantrum over with. I can't drink yet, so make it short."

He presses his palm to my ear in warning as I try to hide my laugh. I should have known Vlad would catch me, but there's no glare staring down as I open one eye.

Turning my head only enough to press my lips to his wrist, a crease forms between his brows. Everything inside of me freezes at Val's stupid fucking voice.

"She was crying and threatened to kill anyone who said you were dead."

Fucking prick.

I thought we were friends. He's a snitch, making me out to be distraught. I was calm and collected, not losing my mind. Tali jumps on the bandwagon, not liking being left out.

"Yeah and?—"

"Shut up, or I won't give you any more face masks."

I nearly fall off the sofa as I abruptly turn, and Vlad catches me while I glare at the two pricks.

It's our thing. Viktor, Tali, and I will spend one day a week pampering ourselves, and he knows it's not an empty threat. The vain bastard slams his jaw shut, and Vlad tugs on my middle, pulling me away from the edge. The three brothers exchange smirks, and they leave with Vlad gesturing towards Dani in the kitchen.

Trying to sit up once we're alone, he keeps his arm over me like an iron bar until my head is laid back in his lap. He is a cold-blooded killer, all the humor and jokes can't disguise it, but right now, he turns into the teddy bear he is deep inside. He rests his injured arm on the back of the sofa as he plays with my hair and sits straighter.

He doesn't look at me and lowly asks, "Why were you crying?"

I don't want to admit the truth. The thought of Vlad not coming home isn't one that would be entertained. He's too big of an energy to ever be gone forever.Trying to deflect, I pick my head up and follow his line of sight.

"I'll get up. Your leg is probably hurting. Do you want something to eat?"

He wouldn't have been fed while being held captive, or he might have forgotten during his killing spree. Even if his eating habits are strange as fuck, he still needs food. I've never seen him eat anything more than a few mouthfuls at one time. It doesn't matter who made it, so it's not an issue of not trusting the person, and he never eats anything sweet. He didn't have cake at our wedding, he cut it and completed the task, then walked away before he could try it.

He cups my neck, pulling me up the rest of the way and fits his lips beside my ear.

"Don't cry over my death, meelaya."

He says it like the Grim Reaper has already given him the date. That it's inevitable and soon. Gritting my teeth to stop the emotions coming out, they filter through the crevices.

"Shut the fuck up," I hiss.

I know he'll be pissed about my language, but I don't care.

You don't just casually tell your wife she's not allowed to fucking mourn you. That's too neurotic even for Vlad's controlling ass. His fingers flex in my hair, and he moves with more power than he should be able to in his injured state. Dragging me up, he marches us towards his office with flaring nostrils. Any anger inside of the dickhead is nothing compared to mine. He promised not to leave me and then to be there when I woke up.

The door slams closed, and he pushes me into the wood to lean over me until we're nose to nose.

"Why did you cut Vitali off?"

His annoying question isn't what I expect, and I look over his shoulder like that's enough to hide the truth. Telling him about my rage won't help the situation. The bastard will laugh, thinking I wasn't being serious. Gentle Vlad comes out, stroking my cheek in the wake of my silence.

"Tell me, meely moy1, my brothers don't keep their mouths shut for long, and I'd prefer to hear it from you."

I technically give him the truth as I mumble, "I wanted to find you, but they locked me inside."

I don't mention that I tried to leave the house or climb out of the window. He'll just be pissed when he has a safety fixation on them. Every single window in the house is alarmed, and no one even attempts to open them, knowing he'll probably seal them shut.

The assholes wouldn't let me leave. I tried pulling the Pakhan card and they both stood there, arms crossed, blocking the door. The only people who were on my side were Dani and Viktor. They agreed we couldn't just leave Vlad wherever he was. Standing straighter, he looks through the door with his face set in hard lines and violence on his tongue.

"Did they hurt you?"

My laugh is automatic, Val and Tali were herding me. They didn't even physically restrain me. I couldn't imagine any of the Vartanovs hurting me. Even the cruel leader in front of me, we're family. Staring down at me, he smiles softly, making my humor taper off.

It's such a pretty smile, rare and precious because there's no stupid comment or violent excitement behind it. Seeing it makes my chest crack at the thought of who he could have been if he wasn't forced to be the devil to protect himself. His level of neurosis is due to him enduring pain mentally, so his brain shuts off, finding it funny so he can survive. He became the jester of his own hell, so he didn't have to cry.

I lean up on my toes, aiming for a chaste kiss, but he pushes into me, deepening it. Wrapping my arms around his waist so he can't pick me up, the injured idiot still tries. I don't want to lose his lips against mine and shake my head as my body finally relaxes now that he's home. My hands move automatically up and down his sculpted, warm back, not out of appreciation of his body, I missed the devil, and I'd rather keep the emotion in my limbs than have my tongue verbalize it.

My teddy bear comes out when he breaks our connection, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. Resting our foreheads together, he looks like a different person. There's no aggression in his icy eyes. He cups my jaw and strokes my bottom lip, making it tingle from the small contact. The softness carries into his voice as he stares at my lips like they contain the answers to the universe.

"This mouth is going to kill me."

I'm wearing a fluffy robe that is tied way too tight and my hair is still damp, but there's no taunt. He doesn't point out any flaw and traces my features. Longing pulls at his features and his whisper is barely audible.

"Ty zastavlyayesh' menya zhelat', chtoby vse bylo po-drugomu2."

Waiting for him to tell me what exactly he wishes he could change, it doesn't come. He shutters off and straightens, taking a controlled breath.

The habit of having his suit as armor means his fingers touch air when he goes to straighten his shirt sleeves. My smile is slow with realization, and I look up, full of joy, as I ask, "Do I make you nervous, Mr. Vartanov?"

He proves I'm right when he takes a step back, but there's no change in his demeanor as he goes to his bar cart in the corner.

Following him because I've found the smallest thread, I take the tumbler from his hand before he can lift it. I've seen Vlad in every different persona he has, the commanding presence never leaves and it's still there now as I take his seat behind his desk. He pulls the seat back before I can fully settle, then lifts me and steals it out from under me. I'm not complaining when he sits me on his thigh instead. It makes a better throne.

His big hand covers my entire thigh as he slips it under my robe and lust floods my body at the deep rumble.

"Take it off. You haven't welcomed me home, meelaya."

Feigning nonchalance, I sip his vodka to give my voice time to remove the desire.

"You double-knotted it, so it doesn't open, remember."

The warmth is removed from my thigh, and the drawer slides out in a blur. I'm pulled forward faster than I can anticipate, and his other hand leaves the drawer in a blur. There's no tug against my body as the belt around my waist is cut away. His voice is more playful, matching his smile.

"I've fixed it for you."