Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Dmitri
Alisa whimpered half-hearted protests on the way to my apartment. Something about how her landlord would handle it. I seriously doubted that. Part of me was tempted to track down the man for allowing her place to fall into that state.
When she stepped into my toasty apartment and exhaled a slow sigh of relief, something unfurled inside my chest.
There was something so right about the way she felt inside my apartment. Like something had been missing before.
I hated it, and ignored it.
“I’ll make dinner. Unlike you, I have a stove that actually works,” I said, heading towards my kitchen island.
Alisa crashed down onto my oversized sofa, a contented moan escaping her lips. Her eyes zipped around the room, a small look of wonder on her face.
“Lord knows, a kitchen this nice would be wasted on me with my cooking skills,” she muttered to herself. Alisa’s expression turned defensive when she noted my expression. “What?”
“You can’t cook….” I said, thinking again of how she reminded me of a baby deer. The way she was curling into the cushions on my sofa certainly added to the image.
At least she was feeling better, the color had returned to her skin. My jaw tightened as I thought back to how small and forlorn she’d looked on the floor of her apartment.
“There’s so much you don’t know,” I said with a slow shake of my head.
Her face turned bright red. If she didn’t have drugs in her system, I would’ve flipped her onto her stomach and given her a real reason to blush.
I pulled some vegetables out of the freezer, and the utensils to go along with it.
“I’d say there might be hope for you in the kitchen, but I’ve seen how terrible you are with a knife,” I said, flipping the knife in my hand.
“I’m not that bad.”
Maybe she’d be fine if she was taking someone by surprise, but she’d been far too easy to disarm when she’d come at me two years ago. At the time, I’d found it adorable, but now unease spread through my system. If someone had found her tonight, weak and barely able to hold her head up…
“Don’t lie. I’ve fought you before. You’re shit at hand-to-hand and with a knife.”
Her expression tightened, and it was like watching a brick wall build between her and the outside world. Like she’d just remembered who I was, and that she shouldn’t be so unguarded with me.
A pang thudded in my chest. Must be hungry.
I started working on the food. That’d solve the problem.
She tilted her head, staring at me in silence as if searching for something.
“The day we sparred, you went easy on me, didn’t you?” she said. There was no smile on her lips, just wariness in her eyes. “You could’ve slowly broken all my bones in front of the Bratva, and it would’ve sent the same message.”
I could’ve made her scream after her first step towards me. Would’ve made anyone else who defied me, scream for my mercy as I mercilessly pushed their body to the limit. But the real question was…
“Why?” she said, her eyes pinned to me.
Fuck if I knew. Why the hell had I dragged her into my house like a caveman after I’d seen the state of her apartment? Why did I keep saving her when I had way more important things to do? Why did the small, rumbling sound in her belly make me hurry to finish cooking this soup?
I’d thought I needed to just fuck her out of my system. But each time I fucked her, the more I wanted to drag my claws into her and make her stay.
“Eat,” was my only reply.
I set down a bowl of borscht in front of her, and to her credit she didn’t ask me if it was poisoned.
“Thanks,” she said before taking a long sip.
Alisa swallowed the soup, and all I could think of was her swallowing ropes of my cum down her throat.
As I imagined face fucking her, I caught her smiling at the soup. I nearly groaned when her tongue darted out and swiped a little liquid off her lips.
“So how’d you become such a good cook?” she said, slurping down another hearty helping.
I’d watched my mother poison my brother after she’d determined he was too weak to be a part of the Pakhan’s competition. After that I cooked all my own meals.
But I didn’t say that. There was a reason to build up walls. I liked it that way. Needed it.
“Because I’m a functioning adult,” I said instead, and she laughed at that.
It wasn’t as easy, or as relaxed as before. For some reason, I wanted to keep her laughing. See the little lines that formed around her eyes when she really started going.
Instead, I picked up my plate, and turned my back on her so I could load the dishwasher.
“I can handle clean up,” she said, bringing her plate over and picking up some dishwashing liquid. “I do know how to do that,” she added under her breath.
I ignored her and started rinsing out the dishes.
“Go to bed,” I said, nodding towards the guest bedroom she’d slept in last time.
She opened her mouth to protest, but I silenced her with a firm look.
Alisa brushed her hand through her hair, a yawn sneaking out of her mouth.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I owe you.”
Her words reverberated through my head as I worked in silence.