Page 34 of Volatile

Fuck! My brain is fucked and a laugh bubbles out through my sore throat. “You going to wipe my ass too?”

Val turns, blocking my girl from seeing me as Vlad steps in front of me. My parent holds my nape and he dips his head to whisper, “It wouldn’t be the first time I had to. Tell me what you remember.”

He’s doing the same checks he used to when I was a kid and I sound weak as fuck as I say, “My name is Vitali, I have two brothers — Vlad and Valentin — we live in New Jersey. I have a stepdad, Dima. I have three sisters — Katya, Inessa, and Dani. I have three nephews — Viktor, Vasili, and Dominik — I have two nieces — Vanya and Verena.”

Everyone relaxes and Vlad steps back, allowing my girl to take over cleaning me up as she holds my now clean hand to guide me to the sink. The tears are still there in her eyes, and she doesn’t say anything as she washes the blood off my arms. She doesn’t stop there and curls her hand around my nape until I lower my head enough for the large shower head spout to reach and she rinses my hair. Dirty brown-red water drips around me, it’s not even pink it’s that saturated. Did I bathe in the fucker’s blood or wear him as full-body fucking costume?

Her breath shakes as she massages my scalp to remove as much of the blood from me as possible. The spray mutes my question as I beg her, “Did I hurt you, sweetness?”

She’s not being cold or ignoring everything, she has tears in her eyes. Fuck, I hurt her. I hurt her and she’s caring for me because she’s afraid.

The sounds of my brothers cleaning up after me, pulling out tarp and the hose slapping against the concrete floor covers my voice as I continue begging her.

“Stas, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

ELEVEN

Anastasia

Ithink I’ve broken Vitali. He isn’t stuffing his face and he keeps sighing in between holding his breath. He comes to life as I lay him on his bed. Now that he’s showered and there’s no traces of blood left on his body, and he pulls me down on top of him. His arms circle my waist, and his voice is low as he asks, “Did I hurt you, Stasi?”

No, he scared the fucking shit out of me. I’ve seen Vlad, Dima, and Vanya kill but this was different. He wasn’t human or Vitali, there was no dumbass jokes or stupid smiles, he shut down and didn’t come up for air in over six hours. Which isn’t natural for someone like him and if his light and goodness isn’t in the world it all becomes so much darker.

I press my lips to his chest over his heart that’s beating way too calmly, and I don’t need to try to put conviction into my voice.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

Or anyone.

I’m inviting conversation, knowing he’s a chatterbox that won’t shut up, but I need that Vitali back and not the fiery depths of hell that reside in him. He exhales relief and strokes my hair back as he kisses my crown and slowly fills the room with his voice.

“Dima used to say I have a vivid imagination when I was a kid, I can see fine details in my head and it’s why I like the fights. The anticipation of finding out if it will match the image in my head.” My body moves up as he takes a deep breath with a silent ‘but’. “All I could see is what he described he was going to do.”

It’s the first rule Vlad gave me — never read their messages. Dima would skim them to build his rage and who knows what Vlad’s psychotic brain does with information. But Vitali is a playful puppy, he loves and cares for people too deeply, and he cares too much about his appearance to consciously allow his face to be covered in blood. My fingertips stroke across his cheek, it’s like satin and he’s got the poreless skin models would die for, he even has naturally long, dark lashes. He doesn’t need them and I’m envious, knowing he doesn’t have to spend time tinting his, or curling them, handsome fool.

There’s no compliment on my tongue, you don’t tell a masterpiece how beautiful it is, they just know, but intrigue needles me and I ask, “Were your parents attractive? Physically.”

They were shitty people, and I can’t remember ever seeing his father but whatever was in their genetics managed to make incredibly beautiful offspring. Vitali smirks, trying to hide his laugh, and he combs my hair behind my ear as he lowers his tone, pretending to be secretive.

“To some but, I have a theory.” I’m leaning into him when I’ve heard the bullshit theories countless times, yet this feels different, and he has my full attention. “The uglier the parents the cuter the kid, it’s God’s way of balancing the scales.”

He says it so seriously and then ruins everything as he speaks normally again.

“Our kids would be ugly as fuck.”

My mouth opens and I argue the wrong point.

“Don’t call my kid ugly.”

I’ve fucked up and it’s evident in the wide smile staring at me as I fumble to claw it back.

“Not that I’d have a kid with you.”

Why the fuck is that the second thing I say, it should have been the first through ten. He’s energized from my slip up and stops me from getting as far away from him as possible.One foot hits the ground when he springs up, wrapping his arms around my hips before locking my legs in between his. Nuzzling into my nape, he asks, “You want to have my babies, sweetness?”

He’s an idiot.

I push all of my body weight down to counteract his hold, but he hauls me back. And groans. You don’t fucking groan when picking someone up, you don’t even breathe or make a single sound, it’s the polite thing to do. One little sound that probably has nothing to do with me brings back every stupid comment from my mother’s tongue.

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