Page 16 of Blood, Bones, and the Bratva Bogeyman
My breathing speeds up as I watch Konstantin handle him as if he weighs nothing, lifting him in the air with just the force of his hand as he stands.
Enhanced strength.
Holy shit.
A shiver skates up my spine as I picture him tossing me over his shoulder as if I weren’t a thicker woman. This man could hold my weight without an issue and that’s the most delicious thing about him so far.
Dane never complained that my thighs were thicker than some of his normal women or that there was a bit of fluff around my middle that wouldn’t disappear no matter how hard I tried.
Which wasn’t at all.
I loved the skin I was in, and if no one else did then they were always free to fuck off. It was never me being bigger that anyone had an issue with, though. They tried to beat me down throughout my life because of my ability to tell when someoneis lying. No one likes to be confronted with something that’s not easily understood.
“You dare lie to me?” Konstantin asks.
The menace in his lazy tone causes the man to shake in Konstantin’s grip.
“Do you know how easily I could snap your neck, Venyara? Shall we find out, or have you suddenly remembered something you should tell me?”
Venyara gasps unintelligibly, but Kon deciphers it.
He tosses the man back to the other couch before returning to his seat. “Speak.”
“They’ll kill me.”
Konstantin shrugs. “So will I. It seems you have quite the dilemma.”
A sharp current of anger snaps through the air as Venyara relents and speaks the name of someone who was thought long dead.
The color drains from my face when Konstantin peers over at me. “Truth,” I croak.
Sunniva whimpers from beside me, and I reach over to grasp her hand in mine.
Giselda, our best friend, died seven years ago.
Or . . . that was the story.
Yet, according to Venyara, she’s the Reaper. She’s the person behind the drug that’s killing people.
My stomach lurches, and I scramble for the wastebasket next to the couch.
A ghost has risen from the grave.
seven
Konstantin
Ididn’tmisswhathearing Giselda’s name did to Cressida and Sunniva. Their best friend was killed in a fiery car crash seven years ago. At least, that was the story her grieving husband, Makoa, told the world. There was something that never sat right with me about it, though. It was too clean, too perfect. There were whispers in the dark that it was a hit Makoa had put on her, while others rumored it was a setup from a rival. You’d occasionally hear someone say that she’d faked her own death. It makes me curious to know if those same people know anything about her becoming the Reaper.
The few times I saw Cressida around after that, it wasn’t hard to miss the grief she carried from Giselda’s death.
Our flash bond doesn’t lock into place until both partners are twenty-one, but of course, I was attracted to Cressida before the bond. Surely, fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to pair two people together who had no chemistry. Kingston wouldn’t allow me near his sister, no matter how badly I felt pulled to comfort her after the loss of her best friend.
Neither she nor Sunniva had any clue that Giselda wasn’t actually dead. No one truly did, I don’t think.
My people have been scouring the streets for the Reaper since we found out her identity. She’s smart, I can give her that much. Her location remains on the move, never settling in one place too long.
We’re chasing fucking phantoms while our enemy plays chess with my patience.
