Page 53 of Viparious

Seeing tears in her eyes is fucking with me. The low light makes them glow and illuminates the path they take across her skin. She doesn’t try to wipe them away and I move closer, letting her hide against my chest and snot on me as I turn her on her side to face me.

“This,” she stutters and holds her breath. “I can’t be the other woman and wait for you to abandon me again.”

Despite the heartbroken words leaving her, she holds me tighter, and I suck in a breath when her bump touches my stomach. I don’t want to hurt either of them, but the proof is in my arms and soaking through my shirt. I kiss her crown and give her the truth.

“There’s no other woman, moya koroleva.”

Inessa could never be the other woman, she’sthewoman. If life was different and I knew my death would be spontaneous rather than set off by my own actions, I’d bask in her presence. But it’s not, and I won’t break my word and decades of work. The alternative is selfish, and she’d hate me.

She looks up, giving me a watery smile and blows the tear stuck on her lip away before speaking.

“You know, you’re the most just, cruel person to exist? I can’t even hate you fully because you’ve never been anything but what you are.” Bringing her hand up, she cups my cheek, and my throat thickens. “Whoever she is, the woman who owns your heart, she’s very lucky.”

My voice doesn’t sound like my own as I kiss her palm and beg her to believe me.

“You’re not competing with anyone. There is no other woman. Dayu tebe slovo, meelaya1.”

I’ve never given a living person a promise with this much conviction.

There’s no comparison between Inessa and Vanya since they each hold different roles. I’d be a sick fuck if there wasn’t. But there are fewer questions by allowing her to believe the lie she’s made up. Maybe I am fucking sick because I’m not correcting her. It’s better the thought to exist in her brain despite how bile burns the back of my throat.

I’m sorry, solnyshkuh.

Her smile is still sad, and the tears flow in a steady stream across the bridge of her nose as she whispers with nothing other than pain clinging to her voice.

“I hope you finally get whatever it is you want.,” blowing out a breath to speak clearly, she wrecks me, “and I hope I never have to hear about it.”

She’s formidable, and I discreetly move everything from my chest down back an inch to get the feeling of her small bump away from me. So I can’t ruin them both. Even with tears in her eyes, she’s beautiful. There are dark smudges under her eyes and her cheeks are slightly sunken in. I make a mental note to beat the shit out of Ana for not making sure she eats.

Or is it because she’s nauseous? Is she throwing up and unable to keep anything down?

No, my brothers would have taken her to the hospital.

I should get Vitali to move in with her. He’s a pig who constantly stuffs his face. No, it goes against the truce with Kadare, and he’ll be killed. He hasn’t fully healed yet. Fuck! There’s no way to protect everyone. If she moves back in with her grandfather, it will start rumors that she’s carrying someone else’s child. The guards are like old fucking women, always gossiping and making shit up.

All her sadness is replaced with awe as I try to find some path that keeps everyone safe. She laughs and looks down at her belly as she gently places her hand over the small bump. I can’t look away from her face, seeing the happiness and avoiding what will destroy me. She strokes across her bump, and I shift my hips back, avoiding contact. It’s not loud or noticeable. I don’t think Inessa would hear a bomb going off right now with how happy she is.

“Little wriggler, are you dancing again?”

Tapping against my thigh so my hand doesn’t touch her, everything inside of my chest expands.

I can’t fucking do this again. I can’t let myself build up a life knowing how it ends, because it will always fucking end. There’s no different outcome for me and I move away without looking back. I don’t need the image to haunt me with the others. I can fucking kill dozens, hundreds, in a night and I’ll be fine. But this is the worst torture I’ve ever experienced. All I can see is Vanya, her skin that turned blue and how cold she was. It morphs and turns into Inessa and the baby in her stomach.

I can’t fucking breathe as I rush down the stairs, my shoes slip over the bullnose edge, and I have to grab the railing so I don’t end up on my ass. My lungs are refusing to work while my mind keeps pulling up image after fucking image. In all of them, she’s blue. Her lips, her skin. Arms stuck by her sides.

I can’t fucking breathe.

They’ll be fine as long as I stay away.

They’ll be healthy and warm as long as I stay away.

Checking all the alerts are on, I don’t linger and get the fuck out. As soon as the door closes, my stomach turns violently, and I fold in half on the step. She’s a weakness. It’s a chant in my head, everything pointing out that my only weakness is three floors above me, growing another one to keep her company. Bile burns up my throat, spreading into my sinuses, and I can’t fucking stop it. The guards are all further away, but I wouldn’t even give a fuck if they were stood beside me. Two weaknesses, both blue. She was warm, the baby was moving, she called them a wriggler, they move a lot, that’s good. Healthy, strong, alive.

They were warm. Not blue. Alive.

Wriggler. Movement. Alive.

Warm. Not blue. Alive.

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