Chapter 6
Blair
“Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.” I lamented in pain watching the needle prick and break into my skin as I fucked up for the millionth time.
Hissing as I dropped the material aside on the desk, I slowly took the needle out, and with my thumb I put pressure on it as a drop of blood came to the surface.
“That’s the fifth time now! And on the same finger!” My shoulders caved in, losing hope in figuring out how to weave these damn baskets for the Easter Hunt. “Dammit!”
“What’s the complaint now, kotyonok?” The thick, aggravating, and annoying Russian voice emerged from behind me as Konstantin lay on my bed, his legs spread out as he read this morning’s newspaper.
Acting as if he were some important businessman or politician who needed to know what was happening in the world to calculate his next move.
I tsked, “What does it matter to you?”
“Well, it wouldn’t if you didn’t complain every five minutes and kept interrupting my reading.” Konstantin backtalked as my eyes rolled back.
For someone who was on the run, he was oddly comfortable in my bed and too trusting that I wouldn’t report his ass to the cops.
“Well, if you don’t like it, then hop back to your prison cell. It’s not that far away.” I raised my hand and threw the middle finger over my shoulder. “Shit, no, fuck. Geez.” I realized my habit of cursing wasn’t getting any better.
I swear this was more difficult than being celibate. At least no one was spreading my legs open, but I couldn’t help but word vomit anytime I opened my mouth.
Tiny bits of self-shame festered like a growing black hole. Suddenly a hot breath breezed against my cheek as Konstantin drawled, “You’re bleeding, sweetheart.”
I jumped straight out of my seat, the back of my head bumping into his bare chest as he only wore jeans. “Holy shit!” I cursed again, adding another penance to my cross. “Don’t show up like that!”
Yet he remained straight-faced, slowly making me face him as he focused on my hands, noticing the cuts, nicks, and bruising on them.
His deep, thickened brows etched together in visible concern as he flipped my hands over, gently running his thumb meticulously as my pulse fluttered.
His touch was so tender, I could almost mistake it for a lover’s caress.
He inclined one brow up. “You’re reckless, you know that.”
Blood simmered in my cheeks, feeling weirdly shy. “I was just trying to be useful.”
A lazy rogue smirk settled on his lips. “You can be so without hurting yourself.”
My lips pressed together, lacking the ability to form any words.
Suddenly, he raised my finger to his mouth as he lowered his lips onto my fingertip and sucked the blood.
A wave of confusion bloomed into my bloodstream before it turned into flaming heat.
This was wrong. Dirty. Sinful.
And part of me wanted to slap the daylights out of him, but the way he held onto me made me want to be buried in his hands forever.
Kon stayed like that for a moment longer as he lifted his gaze to mine, my cold heart melting as he then proceeded to kiss every cut on each of my fingers.
The soft fresh scent of soap, mint, and strawberries lingered, and a loose curl of his damp hair escaped as he had this bad boy yet gentlemanly rake charm that made him impossible to stay away from.
Then he lifted his lips, breaking away, and a red dot remained in the center.
“You have something,” I told him.
He darted his tongue out and swept the blood off, never breaking our connected gaze.
“Better?” he inquired.
“Better.”
The transaction was more than just physical, yet not quite sexual— more sensual, if anything.
“How’s the pain?”
“Um, I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s very hygienic or medically correct to do what you just did.”
He narrowed his eyes, small crow's feet forming, hating my nitpicking as I raised a brow.
"Where's the first aid kit?” He conceded.
“Bathroom, duh.”
“Duh, as if it’s so obvious.” He dropped my hands, breaking away as he turned around and opened the door behind him.
“Well, sweetheart, it’s the most commonly found place.”
He mumbled something in Russian. “Bozhe, ty svodish' menya s uma, no chto by ya delal bez tebya?”
I shook my head, not giving it much thought as my gaze was cast downward, staring at my fingers, at the traces he left of himself. “Ok and it’s on the bottom cabinet next to—”
“Pads and holy water?” He asked, nearly confused, coming back out as he held them in addition to the first aid kit.
Against my better will, a smile burst on my lips. “How else am I supposed to ward off evil spirits?"
“Makes sense for the holy water, but what about the pads? Is that why you’re so sensitive?”
“Oh shut up, you cretin. I found those here. God, I don’t know how your exes put up with you.”
“You want to know?” He suggestively said.
“Nope!”
“Your loss.” He tossed them aside while he placed the kit down afterwards.
Flipping the lid open, he searched with his long, calloused fingers, meticulously playing around.
The same hands that took lives could be so caring and methodical, like I was the most fragile and important thing in the world.
Humming entered my ears as I saw his lips move but didn’t hear anything.
The only thought was his hands, his fingers, his… lips.
It wasn’t until he extended his hand towards me, waiting for me to take it, that I snapped out of the enchantment. “Blair, kotyonok, your hand.”
“Sorry,” I said meekly, staring off at the wall.
What the hell is wrong with you, Blair? Don’t even go down that road, sister.
He turned my hands over as he poured hydrogen peroxide. I hissed.
“Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m not.” I literally birthed one. “You should have warned me.”
He shook his head, grabbing a towel before unscrewing the cap of the ointment and placing it carefully along the cuts and nicks. Relief replaced the blistering pain. Every moment swift, tactful yet each touch lingered more than the last.
“Distracted lately?”
Not sure what he was alluding to as I curled my brow together. “No.”
He raised one of his hands towards his face and scratched the corner of his lips with his thumb. “Mmhm, perhaps I thought wrong.”
“Maybe, or perhaps, you’re deflecting.”
“Deflecting— that’s a big word, kotyonok.”
I tapped his cheek condescendingly, my hand lingering at his masculine warmness.
“I know, but I hope you can catch up. It’s okay. No matter how old you are, you can always learn new things.”
He brought his hand over mine, relishing as he moved it to his lips. Tracing my fingers along the outer edges of his mouth. The soft wet curve of them. “Then how about you teach me?”
My whole body was besieged by a frenzy of prohibited temptation… sin.
This man. His voice. His words. His touch. He masked trouble, and trouble was my forte.
There wasn’t even a drug that compared to his intensity, and I don’t think I will be able to replace this high.
Loudly the church bells rang on the hour as I realized the time, and I had to leave.
“Damn, I have to get to the fair.” I abruptly said, breaking the piling friction. “It’s for the children, and I can’t really say no so I’ll see you later.” Attempting to draw my hand away, but he kept his steel grip, my breath catching until he decided to let go.
Backing away felt like resisting the magnetic pull as I added, “Bye.”
“Bye.” He held my gaze from the moment I opened and closed the door.
Walking away, I replayed the miniscule tint of sadness in his eyes, only thinking of one thing: how part of me wanted to stay with Konstantin.
And don’t get me wrong, the dude was insufferable, but I understood and hated that lonesome feeling.
The feeling of wanting to belong. To have someone.
I could only imagine what years behind bars would feel like.
“It’s great to see the community come together,” said Sister Marie, who walked leisurely beside me in a summer nun dress with the white sleeves underneath instead of the regular black ones. She pressed her palms together and sighed with content.
The blowing wind grazed over the green pasture, the flowers flowing to the east, the sunlight reflecting a beautiful shine to the human eye.
We walked on the outskirts of the town’s park field, which made an excellent space for the annual Easter Festival.
The festival was lined with vendors of all ages selling everything from common cuisine to handcrafted pottery to mined jewelry.
Unlike most American fairies, this had a live band that played a mixture of gospel music and classical Italian music like Andrea Boccelli.
Topped off with an iconic Ferris wheel, they brought from Naples and built it here for the next few days.
The laughter of children floated in the arena as dozens of them scurried around with candy in their hands as they wandered with magic in their eyes, wondering where to go next.
This was a great public outing for the orphan children to go on, as we accompanied them.
“I’m happy to see the children enjoying themselves. I feel like they might get bored or sad because they don’t get out much.” My voice was a decibel softer.
Children were a weak spot for me. The most innocent and untattered of all humankind. They deserved love, protection, and to be safe no matter what.
The passing thought brought a heart-wrenching pull as a pair of green olive eyes and a soft round baby face called to me. Ollie.
“You seem to think a lot about them.” Marie's shoulders stiffened in her all-black attire; her eyes reflected the small faces of the children.
“Don’t you? We’re the only people they have, but who will care for them when they're older and outside the orphanage?"
“I don’t know. Life has its mysterious ways. God knows why he does things.”
I pivoted my foot and paused right in front of her. “But how do we know if God is doing this?”
“What are you referring to?”