Page 43 of Toxic Temptation
He shrugs. “Not anymore. I’m used to it.”
The unbothered acceptance in his voice nearly breaks me. “‘Used to it’?”
“This is nothing. I broke my arm last year. It was hanging wrong for an hour before the doctors fixed it. That really hurt.”
“How did you break it?”
“Ihor pushed me down the stairs.”
My jaw drops.
“But it was my fault!” he adds quickly. “I made him mad.”
I stop walking and kneel in front of him. “Listen to me, Luka. Nothing you could ever do justifies an adult hurting you. Nothing. Do you understand?”
He looks nervously at Kovan. “I shouldn’t talk about my arm. Uncle Kovan doesn’t like it.”
“He doesn’t like hearing that you were hurt,” I explain gently. “Because he cares about you.”
“I’m fine now. And I got to stay with Uncle Kovan for four weeks after. So it was worth it.” He breaks free and runs ahead. “Come on! Planetarium time!”
Kovan watches him go, his expression raw. “This is the only place he’s ever loud. When it’s just us.”
I wring my hands in front of my waist, torn in a thousand different directions all at once. “Thank you for letting me see this. I know it’s special for you two.”
“You haven’t given me your answer yet.”
I look at Luka, practically vibrating with excitement at the planetarium entrance. Then at Kovan, this violent man who somehow makes an eight-year-old boy feel safe enough to laugh.
“Ask me again after the planetarium.”
His smile is soft and sure. “You’re going to say yes.”
“We’ll see.”
But we both know he’s right.
15
VESPER
It’s quiet, but that’s alright. It’s not an uncomfortable kind of quiet. I’ve been staring at the artificial stars so long they’re burned into my retinas. When I blink, constellations dance behind my eyelids.
We bypassed the itchy, uncomfortable planetarium seats for the cool floor of the stage. Without an audience or presenter, it feels like we’re lying in an open field under the real night sky, infinite and overwhelming.
But as much as half my brain is deadset on trying to take a bite out of the Little Dipper, the rest of me is all too focused on a minor distraction to my left.
Because the space between Kovan and me feels charged, electric. I’m hyper-aware of the heat radiating from his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing just inches away. His hand isright there,right next to mine.
“This is incredible, Luka,” I whisper, as a way to distract myself from undue thoughts about his uncle. “I understand why you love it here.”
No response.
“We lost him about ten minutes ago,” Kovan murmurs.
I turn my head to the right to find Luka’s eyes closed, his breathing deep and even. His hair falls across his forehead in soft waves.
I push myself up on one elbow, studying his sleeping face. That’s when I see it—a perfectly round burn mark on his neck, about the size of a quarter.
