15. Kazia
15
KAZIA
S itting on the bed, eating a perfectly crafted sandwich, I couldn't shake the memory of Ion’s heated expression before he turned and left the room.
“Is it good? Do you need anything else?”
Cezar has been like this ever since we finished our little tryst. His wide puppy dog eyes begged him to do more and be more for me. I knew the answer before I asked, but I had to ask anyway: “Can you let me go?”
His hand trailed down my face, his smile so wide you would think it hurt. “Never. I will never be letting you go.” I nodded and took another bite, figuring that was what he would say, but then his crazy ass continued. “Even if you somehow escaped and were able to hide from us, I would hunt you down until my last day on this earth.” He scooted closer, whispering to me like it was a secret, “I would find you, watch over you, make sure you had everything you needed…” he tilted his head, his brows furrowed, and his eyes darkened. “And if you tried to build a life without me, I would erase all traces of it.” His eyes swirled with insanity, “A husband is no problem to get out of the way, but don’t worry, if you have kids, I can just adopt them and be their new daddy because they have you inside of them, and that’s all that matters. Everything that is yours is mine.”
His usual crazed expression hardened into something steady and resolute, every word dripping with conviction. I put the sandwich down, this time not just brushing it off as the psycho who says nonsense, but taking it at face value, and I realized I just fucked up. I just had mind-blowing sex with a psychopath, and no matter how this ended, he wasn’t letting go unless one of us was dead.
The psychology major in me was shaking her head, knowing that this kind of attachment wasn't healthy wasn't right. This would be toxic even if we worked on it constantly. Obsession and great sex weren’t love. But what the fuck was love, anyway?
He had stayed by my side, stabbed his brother for me, and comforted me when I was a mess, dealing with the aftershocks of traumatic memories. He wanted to raise Mike from the dead just to torture him. All of this was extreme and not how normal people think it wasn't healthy…but why did I not want to push him away? Why did I want to pull him in closer?
That white dove in my dream flashed in my mind, remembering the golden thread that connected us, made us whole, and shone brightly. A single word threaded through my mind, whispering the answer: soulmate .
His hand slowly slid into mine, reminding me that he was here. “Don’t worry about my brothers; they are coming around. I can feel it.” He pointed to his chest, and my brows furrowed, trying to understand what that meant, but before I could ask, he added in a giddy tone, “You saw Ion, right?! He’s already more than halfway there, and Nicu…he’ll come around. If they get all that killing-you funny business out of their heads, everything will be fine, and we can be a happy family. Nan said that happy families are the best for children.”
Whoa, whoa—pump the brakes. Children? When the fuck… what the fuck? Gulping down air as fast as I could, I squeezed his hand, giving him a small smile even though my insides turned inside out. “Let's just take it one step at a time. Also, what do you mean Ion is halfway there?”
He cackled up to the ceiling, “Oh Roma, so smart and yet…” He trailed off, and I opened my mouth to argue that I was talking to someone who had voices in his head and was trying to make some sense out of his words when he booped my nose. “You are the most adorable being on this planet, and since I found you first, I think I should get first-husband rights. Whether it's Nicu or Ion who is the second husband doesn't matter to me, but I was the one who was on your side from the beginning. I should be the one that reaps the benefits later, right?” What the fuck did this crazy man say? First husband rights? Is there more than one husband for a woman where he lives? My mind kept racing as I worked hard not to let my terror take over.
He let go of my hand and cocked his head to the side, which I was learning was the sign he was talking to the voices in his head. “Mmm, yes, Cal agreed. He says my brothers shouldn’t be spoiled when they lack courage. I say first cum, first husband, right?” My mind was spinning right now, and I just needed to breathe. This was the first time I had been in a situation where the man I just fucked wanted to marry me and share me with his brothers.
“Alright, alright!” He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, “Nan says I’m overwhelming you and I need to give you some breathing room.” He throws his hand out at me, turning his head to the side, “See, she can breathe, gosh Nan, it’s like your eyesight is going.”
I don't know how he got it in his brain that we could all be one happy quadruple family. Ion might want to fuck me, but there was no way he wanted me as his wife, and Nicu… I'm just trying to make sure that man doesn't slit my throat at the end of the day. Wife of all three? I snorted. There was no way.
Shaking my head, I knew it was a losing battle with him and changed the subject. “Do you know what I want?”
He turned to face me. “Shhhh! Quit it! My Roma is talking,” giving me his full attention.
“I-”
His cool voice cut me off, “I swear to god, I will fucking bash in my brain to shut you up if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
I was taken aback for a second until I looked into his eyes. Even as he was looking at me, they were lost, distracted. He had to be talking to one of the voices, and because of the threat, I was betting on Cal. “Cal, quit it.”
Cezar’s eyes went wide before they changed, locking on me with a vice grip. A quiet intensity blooming inside the pupils, his attention as unwavering as the pull of gravity, almost gasping out loud from his intensity. No man had ever looked at me like that, and I'm starting to wonder if I ever will. Would I miss it? Would I crave it if it was gone?
Grabbing his hand, I smiled. “Does this help?” He nodded slowly, and I continued. “Do you know what I want to do? I want to play a game. Do you have any cards?”
He hesitated momentarily, looking down at my hand, gripping it like he never wanted to let it go again. “Yes. Let me find them.” Scooting off the bed, he stood up and went to the door. Turning to adjust the pillow, a set of inky arms circled me. “Now, be a good girl this time and stay still.” The beat in my pulse skyrocketed, enjoying his words entirely too much.
“Or don’t,” his arms slid away, and I instantly missed them until his fingers captured my chin, and he tipped my face up to his. “The game will just change to fly and spider, and when I catch you, you’ll be wound up so tight you’ll beg for release.”
My tongue swiped out along my bottom lip, feeling that heat coil deep in my belly as I looked at this green-eyed devil. “You're making it hard for me to want to be a good girl.”
He got closer, his lips a light caress against mine, “Whatever you choose, I’ll follow. You, my Roma, look best free.” His lips pressed against mine with the lightest pressure before his fingers slipped away from my skin, and he was gone. When I came back to my senses, the door was closing shut behind him, and I knew I was fucked.
Now the question was, who’s crazier? The man who talks to the voices in his head and kills people for a living, or the woman he kidnapped falling for his crazy ass? At this point, I had no idea.
I reached next to me, finding the bed cold and empty, and my heart jolted. I sat up, surrounded by darkness, trying to feel around for Cezar, and when I didn't find him, I thought back to what I remembered us doing last.
Cezar returned with the cards, and we played games for the rest of the day. He beat me in Gin Rummy, but I got him in Speed. I taught him the game Crazy Eights, and after a few games, he started to beat me. He then grabbed us something to eat, and I started to yawn. Then, we went to sleep.
“He’s not here, pretty lady.” The voice slithered through the darkness, and a warning sign flashed in my head, telling me something wasn’t right. My breath hitched—low and drawn out like I’d been holding it too long. Every nerve in my body screamed that I wasn’t alone. My fingers fumbled for the lamp, heart hammering as the bulb flickered to life.
Light burst from the night table, spreading only a small circle around me. A dark shadowy figure kicked off from the corner of the room. The air shifted around violently, and my gut sank.
The figure stepped forward, light unraveling the darkness surrounding him to reveal Ion. Shadows covered pieces of his face, making the edges of his jaw and nose look sharper, holding his traditional beauty, making him more menacing.
His eyes flicked to the side before lifting his arm. A half-drunk bottle of something clear in his hand came up to his lips, and he gulped it like water. Swiping at his mouth, his eyes glazed over, unfocused as he stepped forward.
“Missing him?” A crooked smile formed along his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. “I don’t think that's fair when you never gave me a shot.”
Something was off. This wasn't his normal cocky swagger that I’ve come to know, and if I were a gambler, I would say he knows how to hold his liquor and when to stop before he gets sloppy, which means something happened to push him to this point.
Moving to stand, my leg got caught, and I looked down to see the rope around my ankle again. My body tightened, hands turning into fists as the air left my lungs like a punch to the gut. Did… Did Cezar put it back on me? Where was he?
The bed bounced as Ion slouched next to me; the bottle was on the floor, and when his hand slid up my thigh, his eyes followed the trail his fingers made. “Cezar was a bad boy. He forgot to lock the prisoner back up, so I did it for him. I was a good brother. How about you pat me on the head?”
The sharp scent of alcohol clung to him like a second skin, his eyes finally meeting mine up close. Those normally full-of-himself kaleidoscope of brown, blue, and green hues were dull and haunting. “What's wrong, Ion?”
“What's wrong, baby?” His laughter jagged and hollow, a desperate attempt to outrun the shadows pooling behind his eyes, and I scooted back. He followed me, scooting forward as he put his hands next to my head, boxing me in between him and the bed. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I noticed Cezar leaving, telling me he would sneak over to your place to get you some of your clothes to make you feel more at home.”
Ion bent down closer, my heart pounded harder, and while fear paralyzed my body, the odd part was the calm undertone that told me he was hurting, and I needed to figure out why. This wasn’t him… or was it?
He slammed the palm of his hand into his head hard enough for me to wince. “That's when it hit me!” His gaze came down to me; a hunger filled those autumn leaf eyes. “Before you tell him all your deepest, darkest secrets, you must taste the other merchandise.” His finger ran down my neck, and he licked his lips. “You need to know what it feels like to be fucked by someone who knows what they are doing. Then you can choose…” his face lowered, those lips that I had found tempting brushed against my ear, “who you want more…but I know it will be me.” His hand turned into a fist as he slammed it against the bed, causing me to yelp as he growled more to himself than me, “It has to be me.”
Shit .
Twisting his head, his lips brushed against my neck, leaving a wet trail in its wake. “I promise. I can make your body sing.”
The heat of his body sunk into mine, his heavy breathing blew against my skin, and I finally understood what people meant by blending fear and lust. Not having time to dissect that little kink, I kicked myself into gear; I shoved at his shoulders with the heels of my hands, trying to slide out from under him. His hands gripped mine, shoving them over my head with a tightening grip.
“Let. Me. Go. Ion.” I yanked against his iron grip, realizing he was too strong, but I kept trying anyway, hoping he would realize what he was doing.
He inhaled deeply against my skin, whispering so low I could barely hear him. “Don’t fight me. Just love me,” and he continued kissing down my body, tightening his hold on both my wrists.
The room felt smaller every second, the walls closing in on me. “Stop,” my weak voice shook, “Ion, please. Please don’t do this.”
He stopped kissing me, putting his forehead on my chest, gulping down air like he couldn't get it fast enough. “Where is that sass, that fire?” His head lifted, his hands wringing my wrists painfully. “Curse at me, yell at me, tell me I'm worthless. That I’m just a whore.”
Staring into his eyes, the weight of his agony shined back at me like a smoldering ember. His breathless, desperate words clawed their way out from the depths of his chest. Calling to me like a final breath summons the grim reaper. I wanted to give in, to let my mouth say everything that I wanted to say, but those eyes held me back.
The voice that talked to me in my dreams floated to the forefront. He doesn't want to do this.
I stopped fighting for a second and took a catalog of our bodies. Running my leg against him, I realized he wasn’t hard. With our bodies smashed together like this, his insistence on doing this, he should be hard, but he wasn't. Why is he putting himself through this?
“Why?” My voice croaked out, and his eyes widened. “Why are you doing this?” This time, my voice came out stronger and louder. “Any secrets that I had, you already know. I killed a man when I was ten. My mom was a Romani woman from Armenia and fled for some reason I don’t know. You know where I live, took me from my home, and are keeping me prisoner.” This time, my words came out in a broken plea, “What more do you want from me?!”
His eyes widened at that last part; shaking his head, he shot up, sitting on his legs as horror crossed his face. The heels of his hands went to his eyes as he whispered, “I can't. I can’t. Not on this day. Not today. I can't. I can't.”
Scooting back immediately, I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at him as his body shook violently, repeating those words to himself over and over again. It was… heartbreaking. Watching this beautiful, damaged man fall apart in front of me. I could feel the ocean of his sorrow crashing into me, and my stupid, bleeding heart wanted to help him.
Calling on all the courage I had left in my soul, I moved closer to him, inch by inch. Once he registered that I was near, he lifted his head. Terror twisted his face; every feature stretched taut by the weight of his fear. His fear gave me strength, lifting my hand slowly; his eyes tracked every movement as I ran shaky fingers through his hair.
He flinched initially, but I shhhh’d him, trying to comfort him. “I-It’s o-okay.”
Shaking his head, he mumbled, “I can’t get it out of my head.” His frantic eyes shifted around like he was seeing something in the shadows. “She hated me, hated what he did to her to have me, but I loved her. All I wanted was her love. She couldn't give me that. She hated me so much. She left me alone. She left me to the wolves.”
His shaky hands came out, palms up, “And now I’m a wolf…but I’m broken. Useless. Just like her.”
It now made sense why he wanted me to call him names that hurt him, but that was not the problem right now. It’s whatever he keeps seeing or hearing that is the issue. I know it has something to do with today's date, but I need to figure it out more.
Pulling his hands away from his face, keeping a firm grasp on them with my own, I asked him carefully. “Who was she?”
He looked away, eyes downcast, “My mother.” Keeping my hand in his, I moved closer, our bodies touching so he knew I was there.
After a few minutes like that, he broke the silence. “I was the one who found her. I was only seven years old.” I kept quiet, letting him say whatever he wanted, even when I had questions. I was just holding him tightly like it was my only job.
“The first thing I heard was the creaking of each sway.” His eyes got lost as he whispered, “The smell of her perfume choking me.” He clawed at his neck like he was reliving it now. Closing my eyes, I tried not to cry or let myself get consumed with this story. I needed to sit here, listen to him, and be clinical and professional. This wasn't about me and my feelings.
Opening my eyes, I saw his hands go up to his ears, scratching at them like he was trying to get the sound away. Seeing red dribbling down his neck, I yanked his hands down, fighting against him, wanting to bring them up again.
“Ion. Ion. Listen to my voice. Listen to me.” His eyes focused on my mouth, watching me talk, and I was fine with it as long as he stopped hurting himself. “You don’t have to tell me anymore. You can cry on my shoulder if you want, and I won't ask any questions.”
He threw his head back, and an empty laugh filled the room before he looked back down at me. “Cry? That is not a word allowed in our house. I don't remember the last time I shed an actual tear.... maybe two years old?” What?! Who the fuck was telling him that he couldn't cry? It’s one of the best ways to let out emotions.
My mouth fell open a few times, not wanting to offend him by telling him whoever told him that was a fucking loser. Like he knew what I would say, he leaned in and whispered in my ear with a shaky voice. “No crying…but can I rest on your shoulder?”
I shouldn't let him. I should keep as much distance from him as possible. He was dangerous, someone suffering from severe trauma. Looking at his glassy eyes and shaking hands, I bet he was also an addict, maybe an alcoholic. I didn't have time for that. I needed to let this man go and stick with the crazy one that treated me like a princess.
“Yes,” Oh fuck me, Kezia! Why do you let your bleeding heart do all the thinking? Really. This was becoming a bigger problem because I wasn’t here to fix or help anyone. I needed to help myself to survive these men…so why would I bend? “But! You better not try anything.” It was the only thing I could think of to try to be smart about this.
He nodded, laying his head on my shoulder with an audible sigh. His mind ran all day, and he could finally rest. He kept to his word, not touching me anywhere else but with his forehead.
Glancing at the nightstand at my glass of sleep-drugged water, I had an idea. “Do you want to sleep with no dreams?”
Ion nodded like a bobblehead, his glazed eyes looking so tired, and I asked him to grab the water on the nightstand. He passed it to me, and I sniffed it, ensuring it had no odor before passing it back to him. “Here. This will help you sleep.” His brows furrowed, and I followed him with, “Cezar made it for me. It's perfectly fine, promise.”
Nodding like that was a normal explanation; he drank it in one swoop so fast that I was impressed. It didn't take long for his eyes to grow heavy; his body swayed as the drugs kicked in.
His words were slurred as he grabbed my hand and kissed it. “I couldn't do it. I'm sorry.” His nose ran along my bruised wrist, and he signed out. “She hated my father and me. He raped her until she got pregnant, forcing her to have me. Then he left her alone, giving her jewels and pretty clothes like a locked-up doll in a doll house.” He mumbled something under his breath before his eyes rolled up into his head as he began to fall.
Moving out of the way, he crashed onto the bed face up. I leaned forward, putting my ear to his chest to check his heart. The steady beat was strong, and relief filled me. I couldn't have a dead brother on my hands. Who knew what Nicu would do to me?
One thing was for sure: this family had so many psychological problems wrapped up in traumatic events it made my head spin. And it all seemed to start with the father. That man seemed pure evil, and I hoped I’d never have to meet him because I didn’t know if I could keep the anger and disgust off my face. I might even punch him.
Running a hand through Ion’s chocolate locks, his face looked almost angelic. I took the time to tell myself that damaged men were not for me repeatedly. I could not find them attractive or help them with their problems. I was just trying to survive.
Snatching the bottle of vodka off the floor and twisting the cap off, I wrapped my lips around the lip and took a swig. The burning liquid warmed my belly and cleared my mind, and a buzzed clarity came through. I knew I wasn't going to follow my advice. It was a shame.
Settling down on his chest, I curled into his warmth, knowing I was safe as long as he was knocked out. Closing my eyes, I promised myself I would only sleep like this until Cezar returned.