Page 3 of Born into Blood

“Osip,” I start to say, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t fucking talk. I want your hands on the chair, your ass in the air, and I want you staring into the mirror in front of us. I want your eyes on mine.”

I do as he asks, unable to hide the flash of pain that crosses my face when he roughly slams into me. He hadn’t given me a chance to get ready for him, and he’s far bigger than what I’m used to. He watches me in the mirror, noticing my pain but not stopping. My fingers dig into the cheap, plastic chair while he fucks me hard and I convince myself that it means something to him. Fisting my hair, he tugs hard, forcing my head higher. His eyes never leave mine, and I want to prove to him that I can take this, that I can handle whatever he wants to give me.

When I start to rock my hips, he lets out a deep groan and growls something in that beautiful, strange language. He doesn’t caress my body, doesn’t slip a hand between my legs to help me out, but it doesn’t matter. The intense way he’s staring at me, the knowledge that he came back to see me, and the possessive grip on my hip is all I need. I come without his help, clenching around him tight enough to pull another deep groan from him before his hips stutter and he lets go. He’s not wearing a condom, and that should worry me. I’m not on birth control. I haven’t been with anyone since Ralph and that was almost a year ago, but instead of freaking out, I like that he did it. Guys don’t go without a condom for just anyone, and in my mind it’s just further proof that he cares for me.

Before I’m ready for him to, he slides out of me and quickly tucks himself away. I pull my thong up and lower my shaky body down into the chair I’d just been gripping while he pulls out more money.

“You don’t need to pay me,” I tell him, but he drops five-hundred dollars into my lap like it’s nothing, and I know he’s not doing it because he sees me as a prostitute. He’s doing it because he cares about me.

When he turns to leave, I reach out and grab onto his wrist. His jaw tightens at the contact, but he doesn’t jerk his arm away. He’s not wearing a suit jacket tonight, just a button-down, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, giving me the perfect view of a gorgeous tattoo on his forearm. It’s a black swan, the feathers so realistic I can’t help but run my thumb over the one that extends to the top of his hand. It’s beautiful, and there’s something sad about it, just like the man it’s inked onto.

“What language were you speaking?”

“Russian.”

I squeeze his forearm a little harder, desperate to keep him here with me just a little longer. “Who are you, Osip?”

The corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk as he squats down next to me so we’re face to face. “A very dangerous man, pet. My brother and I are going to run this city.”

It’s no secret that the Melnikov Bratva runs this part of the city. Hell, they own Pink since the Barinov brothers disappeared, but I’ve never paid much attention to any of it. I don’t mess around with that shit. My life is hard enough without pissing off the mafia.

Fear has my heart racing when I ask, “Are you a Melnikov?”

The disgust on his face makes me flinch. “No, I’m not a fucking Melnikov. Soon enough no one is going to remember their fucking name.”

Upset with myself for making him mad, I reach out to cup his face, to try to pull him closer for a kiss, but he jerks away, standing so quickly I nearly fall off the chair.

“When will you come back?” I call out before he can walk away.

Moving his head slightly so he can see me without fully turning around, he says, “Whenever I decide I want to fuck you again, pet.”

He’s gone before I can ask him any more questions. I grab the money that covers half my rent, and when my shift finally ends and I crash on my couch, the first movie I see when I turn on the TV is Doctor Zhivago. Sitting up, all the fatigue and sore muscles from a night of dancing fades away as I get lost in the movie. It’s like a sign from the Universe, telling me that Osip is my future. Mesmerized by the Russian story, I stay up until the sun starts to filter in through the ragged blinds on the small window behind me.

Barely able to keep my eyes open, I think about Osip, picturing him now as Yuri from the movie, convinced that he’s not a cold man—he’s a tortured soul who desperately needs me. No matter what it takes, I’ll prove to him that I can make him happy. Soon he’ll forget all about whoever the hell that woman is that he can’t have, and he’ll just be happy that he can have me.

For the next two months, Osip is a regular visiter to Lou’s. He always takes me to the back room, and he always pays me large amounts of money, but I know it’s just his way of making sure I have enough. He still won’t let me kiss him, and he still insists on fucking me from behind, but I know that he’s going to warm up to me. It just takes time, and he’s worth the wait.

It isn’t until I start throwing up every morning that I realize I’m pregnant. My periods have always been irregular, so when I’d missed my last one, I hadn’t thought much of it, but the pregnancy test I buy at the nearest drugstore confirms what I already know in my heart is true.

Osip and I are going to be parents. Even though it’s way too soon for me to be showing, I rest my hand on my stomach, already imagining the life we created. I’m still smiling when I go in for work that night, and the customers must pick up on the happy vibes I’m putting out because my tips are the best they’ve been in weeks.

As soon as I see Osip walk in, I let Katrina take over so I can run to him. I want to fling my arms around him and tell him I love him and that we’re going to be a family, but he looks even more pissed off than usual tonight, and I don’t want to overwhelm him. Instead, I walk into the back room and slide my thong off before bending over the chair. I know what he wants, and I’m more than happy to give it to him.

He’s even more rough than usual tonight, and by the time he’s done, I know I’m going to be sore for a couple of days. He can’t control himself when he’s around me, and it’s not like I can get mad at him for something like that. I’m sure once I tell him about our baby that he’ll be more gentle next time. He’ll probably demand I quit my job and immediately move in with him. I bet his home is beautiful. I hide my smile and pull my thong back up before turning to face him.

Unable to hide it any longer, I smile up at him. “I’m pregnant, Osip. We’re going to have a baby.”

The backhand across my cheek is the last thing I’m expecting. A sharp, blinding pain rips through my head, pulling a yelp from me as I grab onto the chair for balance.

“Osip,” I gasp, too stunned to utter anything else.

He fists my hair, pulling my head roughly back as he glares down at me. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” I whisper. “I thought you’d be happy.”

He lets out a harsh laugh while shaking his head in disgust. “Get fucking rid of it,” he spits out, and I’ve never seen him look so angry before. He never smiles, but he’s never looked at me with so much murderous rage in his eyes.

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