Page 33 of Shadows of the Past
"Two secrets in one night? What do I get in return?"
For the first time, there’s a teasing edge to his voice, and I can’t help but like it. He sounds younger, less burdened by life, as if the weight he’s been carrying has eased just a little. And I want more of him like this.
"A promise. At some point, you can ask me for something, and I’ll do it."
I don’t know what possessed me to say that. A promise like this is dangerous, but I don’t want this moment between us to end.
"Hmm, fine. When I was ten, I tried to stab Ivan. I failed, obviously, and as punishment, he made me hurt three boys he’d just brought in: Radu, Piotr, and Ifrim. Their names are tattooed on my back because they died because of my failure."
I stop breathing at his confession. The weight of it, the guilt threaded through his voice, it’s overwhelming. I’ve seen Maksim’s violent side before, like when he shoved that knife into Aleksandr’s hand, but deep down, I know he’s not a monster.
I don’t want to imagine what he felt being forced to do something like that at such a young age.
“You did what you had to do to survive,” I murmur, my voice gentle and free of judgment. The words feel small, but I mean them. I haven’t witnessed everything that happens in this place, but I can sense the darkness lurking in every corner. He’s trying to shield me, and others who were unlucky enough to land here, from the worst of it, carrying a burden I can only begin to imagine.
"Maybe I shouldn’t have," he says quietly, his words barely audible.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I turn toward him and cup his face with my hands.
He freezes, a shiver running through him, but I don’t stop. I need him to look at me, to see my face when I say this.
"If you hadn’t survived, hundreds of kids would’ve ended up in this hell. If you hadn’t survived, no one would be bringing food and medicine to the girls beaten in the basement. If you hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t still be here, because I know for afact that I would rather end it all than let someone else touch me against my will again."
I see his jaw clench, and in the next breath, his hands grip my hips as he flips us, pinning me beneath him. He’s too close, his scent—rosemary and something woodsy—filling every inch of my senses. And all I can think is how much I want to kiss him.
My first real kiss.
"Don’t ever say that again. Do you understand me?" His voice is sharp, commanding.
"It’s the truth. I can still feel his hands on me, Maksim. I still have moments when I hear him, when I feel him above me."
His eyes drop to where his hands rest on my hips, his touch still firm but trembling as if he wants to pull away.
"No. It doesn’t bother me if it’s you," I admit softly, heat flooding my cheeks as the words slip out.
I see the conflict in his eyes. He wants me to believe he doesn’t care, that what he’s done for me is nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s all a facade.
"Please, don’t take your hands off me."
When he’s this close, my senses are overwritten, and I know the image of Martin couldn’t possibly invade my mind.
He studies me for a few seconds, his gaze unrelenting, and then murmurs in a low voice, "I’m not the hero in your story, Julia."
I place my hands over his, lifting my eyes to meet his.
"Good. Because a hero wouldn’t help me burn this house down when I leave it."
A fleeting smile crosses his lips, and he shakes his head slightly before settling back onto his side of the bed.
Under the blanket, I hook my pinky around his, and I know sleep will reclaim me soon.
My last thought is how much I would have liked to kiss that smile of his.
And I know I’m screwed. Royally.
Chapter 14
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