Chapter 6 Yulian #2
“Fiiine.” I stay quiet for some time, but he doesn’t hurry me up—just remains still, as if he’s anticipating my answer.
“You’re assuming my mom could stand up to my dad.
Maybe in your family, that’s normal, but in mine, and as much as I fucking loathe it, Mom and Alina don’t have a say in anything.
She’d just get beaten and possibly kicked out, forcing her to abandon her children. ”
He stiffens, tension rolling off him in waves.
My own spine is in a rigid line, because fuck this shit. I don’t want to talk to him about my fucked-up family. But at the same time, I don’t feel pity from him, just concern.
Why would he be concerned for me?
Maybe that’s why I add, “Besides, she has cancer and has been dealing with this chemo shit forever with no real results. She finished her last round of sessions before I came to the camp. She’s feeling better and the doctors are hopeful, but those assholes are always hopeful when they’re at the other end of a gun. ”
“Fuck, that sucks.”
I smile. “You curse?”
“Sometimes.” His cheeks go a little red, which tells me it’s definitely less than sometimes.
“It’s unlike you.”
“I can kill, so I can curse.”
“Nah, they’re not correlated. Anyway, tell me about this girl you like and plan to lose your virginity to. I can give you pointers.”
“No, thanks.”
“Come on, don’t be shy, Mishka.”
“Shut up, Yulian.” He’s growing annoyed—I can tell because his lips are pursing, and while I’d love to push him further, I don’t really want to hear about the girl.
The only reason I asked is because of masochistic tendencies, really.
I seem to have those in spades. Fuck me sideways.
“We should huddle together,” I say. “Without fire, we need each other’s body heat to remain alive.”
He pauses for a second, then gives a sharp nod, because, yeah, it’s the most logical thing to do.
That’s not the reason I suggested it, though.
The moment he sits beside me, his body heat slamming with mine, my mouth waters, because his scent is everywhere, and it takes all of my willpower not to sink my teeth into his neck vampire style.
I just want a taste.
Just a tiny bit.
“Come closer. I’m shivering and you feel cold, too.” I inch around so that I’m facing him, ignoring the pain that throbs in my side and that I’m crossing into entirely dangerous territory.
“How much closer?” His voice is lower, slightly husky.
“Just close enough to hug.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on, I’m not gonna kill you. The night chill might, though.” I grab his hand. “It’ll be brutal without this solution, and you know it.”
“I said no.”
His refusal doesn’t hit as hard this time—probably because even he can feel the damn draft sneaking through the branches he jammed across the entrance.
The place is freezing, the floor slick and clammy, and it’s only going to get worse once night really digs its claws in. My skin’s on fire, burning with fever, but the cave remains mercilessly frigid.
“All righty then, let’s both die of hypothermia. I wouldn’t say it was nice knowing you.” I start to scoot back into my position against the wall, my arms clenched around my ribs as if that’ll quell the fire burning beneath the stitches.
A long, exasperated sigh spills from Vaughn as he stands up.
Footsteps crunch in the silence, and I hear the shift of his weight as he lowers himself behind me.
I stiffen.
“Whoa, hold up. What are you—”
“Shut up. You’re the one who wanted to hug.”
“I didn’t want to hug. I wanted body warmth.”
He says nothing as his legs press against mine that are bent at the knees, then he shifts until his chest is glued to my back.
A zap of electricity jolts through me, similar to but more potent than when he touched my chest earlier at camp.
This time, it burns more than my wound.
It’s suffocating, actually.
I can’t breathe.
Fuck, I can’t breathe.
It’s the injury. Please tell me it’s the fucking injury, brain.
His arms curl around my front—just above my stitched side, carefully and deliberately avoiding it.
I suck in a sharp breath and jerk forward. I don’t mean it, but this closeness sends a rush of blood to my groin and my head, and I kind of blank out.
“You’re burning up,” he speaks so close to my ear, a shiver zaps down my spine, and the hairs on my arms stand on end.
I’m truly fucked, aren’t I?
“We only had that one shot of antibiotic, but I’ll give you more ibuprofen.”
I make an affirmative sound because, really, that’s the only sound I can make under the circumstances.
He moves and hands me two pills that I swallow with some water, then he’s back behind me in the same position.
His heartbeat knocks slow and steady against my spine, and I track it like a countdown, registering each thump as if my life depends on it.
Must be nice to be so calm. I think my own heart is sort of shoving itself against Vaughn’s palms like a slut.
Jesus Christ.
My fingers twitch. My breath catches. My whole body aches, but it’s not due to the wound.
No.
This is much more serious than a hole in my side.
I want him gone.
No. I want him closer.
“Let’s continue the questions.” His voice drifts calmly in the silence, sounding so fucking close to my ear, my head, and my thumping chest. “Is it my turn?”
“Mmm,” I say, because fucking hell I can’t even think past the feel of his chest against my back and his hands on my pectoral muscles and his legs rubbing against mine, let alone some stupid questions.
“Why did you take a bullet for me, Yulian?”
I shrug. “Because.”
“That’s not a reason.”
I don’t have another to offer, and I seriously don’t even want to think about it at this moment, so I just remain silent.
“Since you didn’t answer that question, I’ll ask another one.”
“Whatever.
“What do you plan to be when you grow up?”
“Huh?”
“I’ll go first,” he says. “I want to inherit my dad’s position and continue his and Mom’s legacy.
I want to give them back a fraction of what they’ve given me and make them proud of how I take our Bratva to the next level.
I’ll be the strongest, most educated, and best strategizing genius our world has ever known. After Dad, of course.”
I gulp because the whole time he was talking, his chest was vibrating against my back, and I kind of need to stop myself from getting hard, because I’m so close to embarrassing myself.
“What about you?” he asks when I remain silent, looking straight down and not daring to even peek sideways.
I, Yulian Dimitriev, who fucks around for breakfast, is absolutely terrified of Vaughn seeing the look in my eyes right now.
Cy would have a field day with this, record it, and show it to my goddamn grandchildren.
I clear my throat. “I’ll take over fucking Chicago and become so powerful, no one would dare to fuck with me, Mom, or Alya. I’ll be their shield even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Hmm. That’s nice.” He sounds a bit sleepy. “I have so many people to protect, too. Mom, Dad, Lidya, my family’s legacy…”
He trails off, his head falling against my shoulder.
I hold my breath, willing my heart to stop beating so loudly.
He’ll definitely feel it against his palms and ridicule me…
“We should help each other out when we’re older, Yulian. We could make a great team. You can be the muscle, and I’ll be the brains…”
I wait for him to keep talking, still barely breathing, but nothing comes.
So I wait some more.
And more…
I peek at him, and huge fucking mistake.
His face is so close to mine, I feel his steady breath on my skin. His eyes are closed, long lashes fluttering against his smudged cheeks.
It’s so unlike him to be so unclean, but I messed him up with my blood, the dirt, everything.
My finger reaches for his face, wanting to…what? Wipe the grime? Push away that sole strand of hair that hangs close to his face?
I pause, my finger twitching.
I swallow thickly, but it gets trapped in my throat, because, fucking hell, he’s so beautiful.
That’s what I’ve been thinking since the fight this morning.
Maybe even for a while before that.
I kept thinking that he looks so fucking handsome that I want to sink my teeth into him.
And that kind of freaked me out. It’s still freaking me the fuck out because the feel of his body against mine has me buzzing in ways I can’t control.
As if it’s a hit of nicotine.
Drugs.
Every fucked-up substance on the market.
I’m feverish, so this could be a hallucination, but I simply can’t take my eyes off of him or direct these rampant thoughts away from him.
Don’t do it, Yulian.
I know. I won’t. I pacify the little surviving morsel of logic in my brain. I’m totally not going to do anything. I’m just chilling.
Yulian, this is the worst idea you’ve ever come up with, and all of your ideas are shit.
Rude, brain. Don’t go calling yourself names.
Vaughn releases a long exhale, and I close my eyes as the feel of his face on my shoulder gets warmer and warmer.
It’s the fever.
We’ll all agree to blame the fever. Got it, brain?
I move my hand that’s been suspended in the air and softly clutch his jaw, angling it slightly. I inhale sharply because the feel of his skin on mine burns. Or I’m burning up for a reason that’s entirely different from the fever.
My thumb strokes along his sharp jaw, and every rub of skin against skin, every instance of friction electrifies me.
I haven’t felt this stimulated in forever, and I’m easily stimulated.
My lips part, and I suck in a choked load of air, then stop, not daring to breathe as I lower my head. I pause for one fraction of a second, trying to find any form of reason.
But this feels like the rightest thing I’ve ever done.
And I just…go for it.
With a shaky breath, I drop my mouth to his.
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
My lips are merely touching his, but it’s as if a whole explosion is taking place in my chest. A goddam epic proportion of fireworks in the form of my erratic heartbeat and buzzing ears.
No.
No.
Fuck. No.
Vaughn shifts, and I jerk my head back, feeling as if I just committed the worst sin.
I wait for him to open his eyes and call me names.
Punch me, even. I’d take it. I certainly deserve it.
But he just remains asleep.
I close my eyes and let the cold press in—everywhere except where he’s touching me.
For the first time, I think maybe I truly fucked up.