In which Alexi is trying for self-control and Lucya is in favor of him losing it.
Alexi…
This girl is quite a revelation.
The Lucya I remember was shy and awkward, always flitting from place to place, spending most of her day trying to avoid other people. Now, she’s all grown up and not afraid to run her mouth and ask impertinent questions.
The thing is, no one ever questions me. About anything.
I am the monster that people turn away from, they cross themselves as I pass by. But not Kolibri.
“Have you forgotten what I do for my Bratva?” My tone’s mild, but she must feel the underlying menace that I try to soften. “Do you think this line of questioning is wise?”
“I know what you do,” she says, lifting her chin. “They call you the Angel of Death for a reason. But… you’ve always protected me, and I came out to that alley tonight because I’ve been so homesick and you were standing there and you felt like… You felt like home to me.” Quickly rising, she starts to clean up the rubble of our dinner, her cheeks flaming red.
“Stop.” I took her wrist, feeling the delicate bones under my fingers. She’s warm, shockingly so, almost hot. I haven’t felt warm in… I can’t think of a time. “You’ve worked a full day already. You’re a guest and I’ll clear the table.”
“Well, technically, you’ve done a full day’s work too,” she says before slapping her hand over her mouth. “Bozhe moy, I have to stop talking!”
Now, I laugh and she looks horrified, as if I’ve sprouted fangs and sunk them into her neck. “Sit down before you say anything else you’ll regret.”
She’s poking at the fire when I come back from the kitchen and I see she’s added some wood – several logs – based on the blaze roaring up my chimney.
“Should I order another cord of firewood? Based on your pyromaniacal tendencies, we may not have enough to last the night.” I hand her a bottle of water, leading her back to the couch.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “We have this boring gas fireplace at our place, one of those slim, modern horizontal ones that gives no heat whatsoever. It’s nice to have a real fire again.”
“Do you miss St. Petersburg?”
“I miss the smell of the city, like pine and old parchment. I miss my favorite library, where I could check out a book and sit next to their enormous fireplace.” Her remarkable eyes dim. “I miss my mother.”
“Have you been back since she sent you here? To visit?” I’m employing my considerable self-control to keep from scooping her onto my lap and kissing away that little crease between her eyebrows.
“No, Mother didn’t think it was a good idea.”
I might call one of the Dubrovin brigadiers who owes me after I forgave his gambling debt. Keeping an informant in another crime family’s organization is common sense, no matter how friendly my Bratva might be with theirs. I want to know what Lucya’s uncle – the perverted old fuck – is up to. He’s notorious for running girls and drugs through St. Petersburg, something his brother would never do.
But Andry is dead and the Dubrovin Bratva is not prospering under Rurik’s control. He’d sell off his nieces in a heartbeat if it benefited him.
There’s silence for a moment, just the crackle from the fireplace and finally, she lets out a deep sigh.
“Spasibo, thank you. For all of this.” She tugs uncomfortably on her borrowed t-shirt. “I should really be getting home, though. I have work in the morning and you-”
“I am watching you sleep tonight and waking you up every few hours to make sure the concussion I gave you isn’t serious,” I interrupt. “You will sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“Alexi, I’m not taking your bed. I can fit anywhere and you…” She makes an awkward waving motion, like she’s displaying me as a game show prize.
“Yes, I’m aware that I’m much, much bigger than you, my little Kolibri.” I take a step toward her and she moves back, eyes wide. “I made sure that I could fit comfortably in any corner of this apartment when I remodeled it.”
I wind one of her long curls around my finger, pulling her to me “You are so very sweet, but you will sleep in my bed.” Her face is inching closer, until I can feel her warm breath on my lips. “You will get some much-needed rest. You will take your pain meds. You will let me take care of you.”
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers. “Being so kind to me?”
“I pulled you from that frozen pond when you were a little girl,” I say. “From then on, your safety became my responsibility.”
“Well…” She’s up on her tiptoes, thanks to my grip on her hair. “You did just nearly kill me. So does that reverse the whole responsibility thing?”
She surprises me into laughing again. It’s oddly euphoric and disorienting, like huffing nitrous. “Come,” I manage to control myself, “I’ll get you ready for bed. Do you need to call your sister and let her know you’re safe?”
“Oh, that’s okay. She’s away with some friends. They’re having a spa weekend and doing some shopping in New York.”
Looking down at her sweet face, I’m disgusted by Inessa, spending money on useless shit and spa treatments when Lucya is here, working double shifts to pay for it.
Reluctantly untwining her hair from my fingers, I lead the way into my bedroom. I have a guest room. I don’t know why I’m not putting her to bed in there. But the vision of her long black hair spread out over my pillow is too compelling.
Lucya seats herself on my bed, shifting uneasily. “Are you sure I can’t take the couch? Honestly, it’s far more comfortable than my bed at home.”
“All the more reason for sleeping on an excellent mattress,” I say, pulling the covers back.
“Oh! These pillows…” she sighs. “So fluffy, like angel’s wings or a unicorn rug.”
It’s everything I can do to not laugh again.
“Sleep, Kolibri. I’ll be waking you up in a couple of hours.” Folding the down comforter over her legs, I tuck it in on the sides, snug to her body. The memory hits me; my mother used to put me to bed like this, joking that if I was all tucked in, the cold could never reach me.
I have very few memories of my childhood. It ended the first time my father put a gun in my hand at twelve and told me to shoot the sobbing man on his knees in front of me.
I did, of course.
Sometimes, these memories come back and I realize I haven’t always been something monstrous. I don’t know if it’s comforting or not.
“Alexi?”
Realizing my hands have been smoothing up and down her legs, I pull back. “Go to sleep. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. And thank you.” She squeezed my arm.
“For what?”
She broke into a little grin. “For not snapping my neck like a glowstick and throwing me into the dumpster.”
Leaning down, I kiss her forehead. “You need to sleep before that saucy mouth of yours gets you into trouble.”
Her skin is warm and the smell of my body wash mixes with the scent of her clean skin and lavender. I stay close for a moment before brushing my lips against her forehead again.
“I was thinking…”
“Hmm?”
“You could- you know, you could sleep here too?” She smiles awkwardly. “There’s plenty of room.”
“I’ll be fine here.” I settle in my big leather chair in the corner of the bedroom, putting my feet up on the ottoman. “Now rest, no more talking.”
She pulls the covers up to her nose, but I still hear her mumble, “Bossy…” before she almost instantly falls asleep. Watching her flop around in her sleep, I’m glad I didn’t take her up on her invitation, I’d have a bloody nose by morning.
Still… I settle back, listening to the soft sound of her breathing. I want to hold her down, control those flying arms and legs and bask in her warmth, keep her against me until my frozen soul is warm again. Most men would melt for this sweet girl. I am not one of them. Any softness was scourged from me long ago. I don’t feel tenderness or affection. But my desire to feel the heat of this hummingbird against me is almost too much to control, so I leave the room, shutting the door behind me.
