Page 51 of Impenitent Claim

I murmured in assent, as the stinging liquid cleansed the wound. Isabella worked in silence, gloving up and doing a damn fine job of stitching the skin back together. Standing so close, the soothing scent of her body oil wrapped around me. Even though it was more serene than the luxurious, fruity scent she wore, it would haunt my sleep later. She was so warm, so soft. And small! Saints, I was a veritable giant compared to her. A hulking monster from the old tales grandmas told their children.

Not that I had one of those to tell me such stories. My limited experience with older maternal figures came from a dear old lady who’d become the uncontested matriarch of our bratva. She told the most fascinating stories to the grandbaby—and anyone else who happened to be sitting around to hear.

I was the giant from a faraway land, lumbering and bumbling into the palace to steal the fair maiden.

Part of me hated that I couldn’t be gentler, softer, for my rusalka’s sake.

As she finished the last suture, I couldn’t keep my mouth closed any longer. “Where did you learn to do this?”

Isabella worried the corner of her lip for a moment, before moving back to look at her work. “I’ll admit, you’re the first human I’ve practiced on.”

Surprise flickered through my chest. I jerked slightly, tipping my head to study her face. It hadn’t crossed my mind that she would sew up the other men in the mafia, but now that the thought was there, the desire to crush any male in her radius to keep them from receiving care at her hand was suddenly imperative.

“Explain,” I clipped out, planting my hands on her waist so she wouldn’t move away. Something about her didn’t feel right. Pushing aside the distraction of her body, I began a careful, explorative touch.

Isabella sighed. “It was made very clear from a young age that there was no escaping this life. I was born amafia princess—as you so lovingly call it.”

I ignored the sneer in her tone. Hips, ribs, even her thighs weren’t as lush as I remembered.

She’s lost weight.A lot.

Anger sparked, hot and fiery in my chest. Why was she so thin? Girls did that for weddings, but she’d looked incredible in her gown. Furthermore, she ate every treat I brought; she’d gobbled food tonight like she hadn’t eaten in ages. I ground my molars, wondering what the hell was going on and how I should handle the situation.

This had to do with the maniac they had training her at the gym, of that I had no doubt. The torture sessions I’d promptly put an end to after witnessing the abusive treatment.

“So I wanted to be useful,” she added. “Other families don’t do it this way, but there were always wounded soldiers coming to our house. Father wanted our men to be treated by us. He was their leader, their don, after all. He wouldn’t ship them to an offsite location, where if they passed, they were alone inan unfamiliar place. Mama would help the nurse and doctor, offering comfort and assistance. Since I was forced to learn to sew, I figured it could translate into being more useful than just soothing fevered brows and offering words of comfort to the dying.”

My brain processed her words. There was more to that than she was telling me. I couldsenseit. But I also guessed that if I poked, if I tried to pry it free, she would slam the door to that insight.

So I waited for her to say more.

She didn’t.

After squirting ointment over the stitches, Isabella placed a thick chunk of gauze on me, held it in place, and then began wrapping the self-adhesive tape around it. Each brush of her against my body sent a zap of electricity through me.

I fisted my hands on my knees to keep from touching her anymore. I wasn’t going to ask about the weight she’d lost. It was yet another thing about her situation that wasn’t adding up. If I asked, she probably wouldn’t tell me.

“You need to leave now.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Please, Ilya. Please go before someone catches you. There are extra patrols guarding the estate tonight.”

It was the middle of the night and while the guards were vigilant outside, I was well practiced in sneaking around places with much tighter security than this.

“Well, since you said please,” I murmured and pushed to my feet.

Isabella pursed her lips and began putting the medical kit away.

What are you doing, you idiot? She just helped you!The voice in my head sounded a lot like my adoptive brother. Conscience Dimitri was right. Social protocol dictated that I show gratitude for what she’d done for me. Even if it wasn’t necessary, since Iwould have mended the wound once I returned to the space I was renting.

“Um, thank you,” I muttered, my body awkwardly stiffening as I tried to do the right thing. “Thank you for helping me, and uh…sorry about your rug.”

Isabella shot me a side look. A smile played on her lips, but she was trying to fight it. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll buy you a new rug,” I quickly offered.

She waved her hand. “No need. I’ll put some hydrogen peroxide on it and in fifteen minutes I should be able to dab it out of there.”

I needed to leave—or I would never go.

Clenching my jaw tight, I denied myself any final physical contact. I snatched my shirt and stalked from the bathroom. A rush of sweet floral blooms blew by me as Isabella darted into her bedroom and began blowing out the candles.

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