Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
KRAVEN
Another week flew by. It’d been a month since Julius was arrested. Once I finished getting ready that morning, I made my way downstairs. I found Isla at the kitchen counter, her hands bracing the edge, almost as if she needed something solid to hold on to.
At first, I was concerned, but I quickly noticed how content she looked. The sunlight beaming through the window was soft, almost gentle, reaching her perfectly. She glistened in the lighting while her hair blew in the soft breeze. Pregnancy agreed with her. Her glow was breathtaking.
I hated to acknowledge this, but not much had changed between us in the past week. I still kept my distance, and she did the same. The few times we spoke were when she asked me about Julius. She went quiet again, reminding me of the girl Julius took in.
As she stood there, I couldn’t help but contemplate what she was thinking. I already knew what she was feeling. She missed Julius, and if I was being honest, I did too. I was beginning to consider the fact that I may not be able to get him out.
It didn’t happen all at once. There wasn’t a moment I could point to and say there, that was when my thoughts took a turn. Everything in this house felt like it belonged to Julius.
Every doorframe.
Every shadow.
Every inch of space carried the weight of him not physically being there, but emotionally and mentally, it wreaked havoc on both of us. He was in every square inch of this house; there was no escaping him. The house was waiting for him to show back up and take it all.
Including her.
Especially her.
I noticed it in the way she started carrying herself around me. She was more careful. More controlled. She still didn’t trust me, and I didn’t blame her.
I didn’t trust me either.
However, I thought time would do what it always did: wear us down, wear us thin. Where the sharp edges dulled, and the thick tension loosened, but somewhere between the days blurring together and the nights getting longer, it changed between us again.
I stood in the archway longer than I should have, listening to her faint sounds. Everything she did felt reactive. She was surviving the moment in front of her instead of living in it.
Will she ever forgive me? Will Julius?
The thought weighed on me more than I wanted.
I should’ve walked away and kept giving her space.
I didn’t and stepped into the kitchen without making a sound.
She had her back to me, barefoot with her weight shifting on one leg.
Her hip was lightly pressed against the counter. She was lost in thought.
She wore one of Julius’s shirts, and it wasn’t surprising. It hung off her, almost swallowing her whole. The fabric dipped off one shoulder, just enough to show some skin, exposing her in a way that didn’t feel intentional, while her bare legs were inviting.
I watched the way her fingers rested against the counter, flexing slightly like she was thinking about something she hadn’t said out loud yet. I saw the slow rise and fall of her shoulders. The way her hair fell down her back in that messy, sexy way, without even trying.
I walked toward her, every step more deliberate than the last. I wasn’t sneaking around. I wasn’t hiding, but I wasn’t announcing myself either. If she heard me, I was worried she’d tell me to leave her alone, and at that moment, I needed her to feel me.
She didn’t turn around or react. It was the subtle change in her posture—the way her shoulders pulled in just a fraction and the way her breath shifted for a second—that told me that she knew I was there.
She always did.
I stopped when I was behind her, close enough that I could feel the heat of her body without touching her. I just stood there, letting the moment stretch, allowing her to decide whether she was going to tell me to leave.
If she stepped away, I would’ve let her.
My hand lifted slowly, giving her time to react, but she didn’t. My palm settled low on her waist, just above her hip. She went still under my touch as I felt her inhale. It was obvious her mind was trying to catch up with what her body was already aware of.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.
No resistance.
No rejection.
There was just silence between us again.
Little by little, my hand slid up, settling right under her rib until her breathing hitched.
“Kraven…” she rasped.
My hand stayed steady against her, feeling the way her body adjusted to it.
“This okay?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away.
“It’s just me. You know me, Kitty.”
Gliding my fingers down from her ribs to her stomach, I made sure she felt every inch of my fingers running across her soft skin.
“Does it make it easier for you to pretend you don’t feel this between us?”
Her lower lip trembled. I wanted nothing more than to press my mouth to hers, kiss away the sadness, and claim what wasn’t mine.
“Nothing about you is easy,” she replied, glancing over at me.
There was so much emotion behind her gaze. I knew they mirrored mine. There was no need for words. Our eyes spoke for themselves as I took her face between my hands, caressing the sides of her cheeks with my thumbs.
My thoughts.
My words.
They all seemed intertwined, pushing and pulling like a game of tug-of-war that never ended and could never be won.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered, peering into my chest.
I lifted her chin so I could once again look into her beautiful eyes. The pain in her voice was so tangible, it was like I could reach out and touch it and obliterate it with my bare hands, replacing it with my love instead.
Instead, I answered, “Whatever you have to give me.”
Her eyes glistened, brimming with tears. “Kraven, Julius—”
“That’s never stopped me before.”
Her lips started quivering, unable to form words now. Moving on pure instinct, I kissed her forehead, resisting the urge to make her mine.
“I can’t lose you,” I confessed, needing her to hear it.
All in one breath, she reminded, “You don’t have me now.”
“You’re in my arms,” I coaxed, “so I’ll take you any way I can.”
Touching her was like drinking the sweetest poison and not caring in the least about the result. It was only about the beginning.
“What do you need from me?” I questioned, gently stroking the tips of my fingers across her skin, letting myself believe that she was mine to touch, mine to keep.
Ignoring the mass disappointment that would take place in the next few minutes, I got lost in her. In seconds, we’d be back to our respective sides of the house, raging a war with our hearts and conscience.
She glanced up at me through her lashes, replying, “I don’t know.”
“Isla…” God, even saying her name hurt like hell, no matter the situation.
I knew what weighed on her mind. It was constantly there, breaking through her thoughts. Especially in moments like these, when we were too close to each other.
“You’re going to be a wonderful mom. I’m sure of it.
” In a moment of pure insanity, I wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head.
“You’re good, Kitty, genuinely good. Your ability to love is endless, and you’ll be a great mom because you’re a great person. It’s as simple as that.”
She sighed, smirking. “I hate it when you’re nice.”
I smiled back. “Me too. Makes me sound like a total pussy.”
She chuckled.
Settling back into our typical dynamic was too easy. The verbal sparring, the teasing, the tension that always built whenever we were silent, realizing how good it’d be between us.
“It almost makes me hate you a little less.”
“Well, you know what they say: there’s a thin line between love and hate.”
As soon as the last word left my mouth, a familiar voice roared, “I guess that’s one way you can put it, motherfucker.”
His icy tone sliced through the air, triggering her to shudder in my arms before I dropped them to my sides. Slowly, I turned, locking stares with my brother.
The jealousy.
The rage.
The betrayal.
I saw it all.
In the blink of an eye, I went from brother to enemy.
Although we’d done nothing wrong, it didn’t matter to him. It never would. Not after what I did. By the expression on his face, he knew it was me who made the call that landed him in jail for the past month.
Sometimes things were better left broken. You could only fix things so many times before it was suddenly impossible to fix what wasn’t yours to begin with.
He was ready to wage war with me…
And I’d prepared for it.