60. Vasiliy
It’s half past eight when we arrive at the hotel, a sleeping Anya in tow. I lift her from the backseat of the car and carry her through the lobby, relieved when the elevator’s ding doesn’t wake her.
Octavia nods to the guards at her room’s entrance, guiding me through the door and into the guest bedroom. She spent the entire ride staring at my sister with so much adoration, I couldn’t look away. It’s like the three of us were always meant to find each other, even with so many miles in the way.
Anya’s little face is loosened in a peaceful smile, cheek pressed against the pillow. I brush back her unruly hair and flick off the light. The door clicks shut behind me.
But when I glance up and see Octavia’s flushed face already streaked with tears, the small measure of peace drains away.
I move instinctively, lifting her into my arms. God, I missed holding her in my arms.
“H…he’s gone, Vas,” she whispers, burrowing her wet face into my neck.
I walk us over to the couch and pull her tighter. She melts into the hold like I’m the only thing keeping her together.
“I know.” I had been expecting this, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the visceral pain of her grief. “You’ve been so brave, moya zlaya.”
It’s hard to believe only a few days have passed since Sasha drove me to the airport. He promised to look after her. To never leave her. I know it’s unfair, but a part of me is pissed off that he didn’t keep his promise. I only left to keep her safe. Instead, she was alone and hurting.
I hold her on the couch for a long time, whispering soft comforts in her ear as she sobs. Eventually, the sound dies down into quiet sniffles.
I don’t let go.
Not for a second.
“He died in my arms,” she says, breaking the silence. Her voice wobbles. “I didn’t…do anything. I just sat there. Coated in his blood as he faded away.”
“There was nothing you could have done, baby,” I say firmly, lifting her chin. “Nothing.”
“I still feel the blood,” she whispers. “I see it sliding over my hands. I must’ve scrubbed them a hundred times since, and yet—”
I palm her dry, peeling hands and bring them to my lips for a gentle kiss.
“I made Sasha a promise that day in the safehouse when everything went to hell. I told him I wouldn’t leave you,” I say, reiterating the thought that plagued me last night when I waited for sleep. “I made you the same promise, once.”
“Vas—”
“I broke both. I left. I thought I was keeping you safe, but none of that matters now. I left you vulnerable.” A few strands of her hair stick to her cheeks, and I brush them back, tucking them behind the curve of her ear.
“This is on my shoulders. You shouldn’t carry an ounce of wrongful blame on your own. ”
“No.” She shakes her head, sniffing again. “You came back to me. It’s not your fault, either.”
“I will always come back to you. You’re my touchstone in the darkness. The fucking air I breathe.”
Tears leak from her bright green eyes, a heartbreaking dichotomy of strength and pain.
“You saved me. Saved Anya, too.” I kiss her tears, one by one. Salt coats my tongue. “No one else could’ve held your family together, and no one else risked bartering for resources.”
She looks up at me for a long moment before opening her lips.
“What if…what if it broke some part of me? I don’t feel the same, Vas.
Not like before. Sometimes the wave hits so hard and fast, I think I’ll never find the surface.
Other times, all I can think of is death, and how desperately I want to see those bodies fall again. ”
I can’t count how many times I’ve had those exact thoughts and decided I was irredeemable. She will do no such thing.
“Then I will spend the rest of my life cherishing the pieces and gluing them back together. I’m…” I blow out a breath, bracing for impact. “I’m in love with you, Octavia Clarke.”
She blinks another tear, though this one seems different from the rest.
I clear my throat. “You are my best friend, the love of my life, and whatever else you’ll allow.”
“Vasiliy,” she gasps out. “I love you so much, sometimes I can’t breathe around the force of it.”
Warm, wet lips clash with my own. Her kiss is brutal. Desperate. I return it tenfold, throwing every fraction of pain into the connection between us. I’m more than happy to kiss her to sleep, but her hand snakes between us, resting on my hardening cock with an intentional squeeze.
“I need,” she gasps into my mouth between sweet kisses. “I want to forget. Just for the night, and then we’ll go back to mopping up the blood left behind.”
I’m nodding before she even finishes the sentiment, tugging her pants down with a desperate jerk.
Only days apart, and yet I’ve barely functioned without her touch.
Her tongue finds my ear, trailing a hot path down my neck.
That singular contact sears through my senses. I would get it tattooed if I could.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.” I rub my fingers against the silky smooth lips of her pussy.
She bucks, immediately freeing my cock from my pants and grinding down on it.
She doesn’t want foreplay, right now, and I don’t either.
After so long apart, after so much death, we need something hard and fast and real.
She lowers down, coating my length in sweet, sticky arousal with the sway of her hips, arms moving to wrap around my neck.
It takes every last dreg of concentration not to blow my load right there, before I even have the chance to feel her clenching around me.
I’m never leaving ever again, I vow, notching my head inside her hot entrance.
I enter in one thrust, pushing balls deep into heaven with a pitchy groan.
One of my hands threads through her hair, wrenching back her head.
She wraps her arms tighter around me, squeezing so close I don’t know where my body stops, and hers starts.
All I hear are the soft, needy moans as she starts to ride me in earnest, clenching like she never wants to pull away.
I can feel the moment she falls off the cliff, spurred on by the thumb I have wedged against her clit.
I immediately follow, coming so hard that my vision darkens at the edges.