44. Lev
I take Brooke back to the house and pour her a vodka. But she refuses.
“I feel nauseous,” she says, her voice too monotone for my liking.
Is she going into shock?
I hand her a cool bottle of water from the bar, then drain the vodka myself, pouring a second to help dampen the rage funneling through my veins.
I’m seething with a violent wrath, and for the very first time in my life, I feel like it is getting the better of me. Worming its way into my brain and writhing under my skin like a parasite, squirming and feasting on the last of my humanity. I usually have better self-control, but tonight, I can’t shake the wild and unrelenting fury battering against my emotions.
Because this is your fault.
You put her in jeopardy tonight.
Pain twists in my jaw, and I realize I’m clenching my teeth.
“I’ve called for a doctor. He’ll be here in a few minutes,” I say.
“I told you I’m fine. I’m just rattled.”
I crouch in front of her and put my hands on her knees.
She’s shaking.
“Who did this?” she asks.
“Someone who has seen his last sunrise.”
She doesn’t know I’ve already put a bullet in the person responsible.
“Was it Vlad? In retaliation for you shooting him?”
I tenderly reach for her hands. “No.”
She huffs out a breath as she focuses on the engagement ring on her finger. “I’m in danger, aren’t I?”
Her words kill me. My body stiffens with rage.
“No. I will make sure you never are.”
She sobs, and I pull her into my arms. “Don’t cry, angel. You are safe with me.”
She nods, but she doesn’t believe me.
At least when the doctor arrives, she’s stopped shaking. Although she’s retreated into herself and gone very quiet, and I feel a weighty guilt on my shoulders.
“I don’t need a doctor,” she snaps. But I insist, and she doesn’t have the energy to fight me.
It takes the doctor thirty minutes to finish his examination while I pace the vintage rug because I need to burn off this fire raging in every cell of my body.
The doctor is certain she doesn’t have any concussion or anything lingering after the impact. But he gives her a sedative to help relax her.
“A good night’s sleep and she’ll wake up feeling better. But if you’re concerned, call me,” he says.
He’s been my doctor since I was born, and I trust him implicitly.
I walk him to the door and shake his hand. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”
He nods and covers my hand with his. “I don’t know her, but from what I’ve seen tonight, she’s tough. She’ll be fine.”
He smiles, and for the first time since the collision, my shoulders relax.
After he leaves, I help Brooke to her room.
“Will you stop fussing,” she says when I put my arm around her and guide her toward the bed. “Anyone would think I was dying.”
She’s trying to make light of it, but it falls flat between us. Because we both know she almost did.
“Do you need to talk about this some more?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I just need to sleep.”
She starts to remove her dress, but I take over, and again, she doesn’t fight me.
I help her out of her dress and then her shoes until she’s left in nothing but her tiny panties and bra. But not even the sight of her luscious body can dampen the swell of rage inside me.
For what could have happened.
That’s when I see it. Bruising on her arm from the car wreck. I falter, stopped by a rage so blinding I don’t know how to contain it. Outwardly, I’m unreadable. But inside, I’m a tornado of violent thoughts.
“Lev…”
Her sweet voice brings me back. I force a smile and tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. I need to get out of this room now. I need to hunt down Dmitri’s dead body and riddle it with bullets to calm this rage. One quick bullet to the skull doesn’t seem enough when I see Brooke’s beautiful body streaked with bruises.
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
She lies down, and I pull the covers over her.
“You’re not staying with me?”
I need to leave.
For several reasons.
One, because I feel like an unexploded bomb about to detonate, and she doesn’t need to see it when I let the darkness out to play.
And two, staying with her will be breaking the one rule I have with Brooke. No spending the night.
I trace my fingers over her cheek and through her hair, and she smiles. She likes it when I play with her hair and run my fingers over the delicate features of her face.
She closes her eyes, and I sit there for a moment, watching her. I’m raging inside, but something is competing with the anger as I sit here.
I don’t even know what it is. I’ve never felt it before. But it’s there, fueling the darkness that wants to inflict pain on anyone who would hurt her.
It’s my feelings for her.
I pull my hand away. I’m going into dangerous territory, and I need to pull back before I get in too deep.
I stand and head for the bedroom door but stop when I reach it.
Every instinct I have tells me to walk through the doorway, then close the door behind me and walk away.
Because if I don’t, I’ll be crossing a line I can never uncross.
I open the door.
It’s better this way.
But then I hear a soft whimper. A gentle exhale of breath.
My bratva lullaby.
And I know I’ve lost the fight.
The last of my hesitation leaves me, and I close the door.
Turning around, I discard my jacket and walk over to the bed.
Brooke is lying on her side, her hair spilling across the pillow in silky waves. I kick off my shoes and climb in behind her. Immediately, the sweet scent of her and the softness of her breath settle around me, and I wonder, as I wrap my arms around her, who is comforting whom?
I don’t sleep. Because if she needs me, I’ll be ready.
Instead, I lie with my arms around her, listening to the sweet lullaby of her breath as she falls into a deep sleep, and acknowledge the contentment I feel lying next to her.
And peace. A beautiful, sleepy peace.
Clearly, I’m exhausted. That’s why I’m using crazy words like contentment and peace.
At least in the light of the morning, when my mind is clear from the cobwebs of sleep, I’ll remember why I don’t spend the night with her in my arms. Or at least why it can never happen again. But right now, a thousand armies could descend on this house, and I don’t think I’d be able to remove my arms from around her or even leave this bed.
Sometime toward midnight, I feel her body begin to shake in my arms. She’s awake, and she’s softly crying.
“Hey,” I whisper.
I roll her onto her back, and she looks up at me, and the pain I see on her face cracks me in two. Teardrops wet her lashes. Her big eyes brim with tears. And she looks so wounded I feel my heart crack and bleed into my chest cavity.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say.
“I know. I don’t know why I’m crying. People have accidents all the time.”
I don’t remind her that this was no accident.
“You have nothing to fear, zayka.”
“I don’t?” A new tear falls down her cheek. Followed by another. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where these tears are coming from.”
“You’re in shock.”
She blinks up at me, tears still dripping down her cheeks. “You really don’t think I need to be afraid?”
I smile in the dull light and whisper, “Not when you’re with me.”
I cup her jaw and kiss one tear away. Then another. Then I kiss the corners of her trembling lips. One side. Then the other. And my body begins to tighten with arousal. But that isn’t what this is about. I want to take her tears from her. Vanquish her fear and make her feel safe.
But my arousal comes on fast.
And so does hers.
She parts her lips, and I slide my tongue inside, my mouth claiming hers, taking the kiss deeper, wanting her to feel protected with every deep stroke.
I have no intention of taking it further. I just want to kiss her and touch her and curl my body protectively around her and let her know that when it comes to feeling safe, she can rely on me.
She’s the one who takes it further. She wiggles beneath me. Parts her legs. Runs her hands down my body and guides me to her open thighs.
“I want you inside me,” she rasps, and I feel her need, and it runs the entire length of my body.
She reaches between us and slides me inside. Immediately cocooned in warmth, I crush my mouth to hers and kiss her hungrily as I rock into her.
“Fuck me harder,” she moans against my lips. “Make me come so I forget.”
I oblige. I thrust her arms above her head and drive my cock hard into her until she’s crying out.
I take her mouth again. This time harder.
I’m teetering on the edge of a cresting wave, ready to plummet into a mind-blowing euphoria. But there is something else waiting for me as I freefall to the bottom. Something unseen and unfamiliar. The unknown.
She clings to me as she comes, her body trembling with emotion, her whimpers igniting something deep inside me. I’m rocked by the intensity of the moment and shudder into her, releasing an agonizing cry as I come.
I bury my face in her neck, feeling lost and found at the same time.
“I’ve got you,” I moan desperately. “And I won’t ever let you go.”
Something cracks and splits apart somewhere deep inside.
Jesus, what’s happening to me?