Page 20 of BRATVA'S Avenging Bride
"Is there a difference?"
She looks at me for a long moment. "Yes. Loyalty is choosing to stay. Fear is being too afraid to leave."
Smart girl. Too smart.
"Which one keeps you here?" I ask. "In my apartment. In my care. Loyalty or fear?"
"Neither." She turns back to the city. "Curiosity."
"About what?"
"About whether you're telling the truth. About whether you're different from the men I set on fire." She pauses. "About whether I'm going insane for wanting you to be."
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
I move closer, closing the distance until I'm near enough to feel her warmth, to smell the soap she used in the shower, something clean and simple that shouldn't affect me this much.
"I'm not different," I say quietly. "I'm still Bratva. Still my father's son. Still capable of terrible things."
"Then why does it feel different?"
"Because it is." I reach up slowly, giving her time to pull away, and tuck one of those loose strands of hair behind her ear. My fingers brush her cheek. She doesn't flinch. "With them, you were a commodity. Something to use and discard. With me..." I let my hand fall. "With me, you're the whole fucking point."
Her breath catches. I hear it, that small sharp intake that says I've hit something true and vulnerable and terrifying.
"That's insane," she whispers.
I grin. "I know."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough." I turn to face her fully. "I know you saved your friends before you saved yourself. I know you'd rather fight than flee. I know you can't sleep in my bed because it's too soft, too quiet, too different from what you're used to." Her eyes widen slightly, she didn't think I'd noticed. "I know you test every door and window like you're memorizing escape routes. I know you don't trust me. And I know that every time I prove you wrong about me, it scares you more than if I'd proven you right."
She stares at me.
"What do you want from me, Matvey?" Her voice cracks on my name, and I feel it in my chest like a physical thing. "Really. What is this?"
I could lie. Could give her the easy answer, the one that doesn't expose how deep this obsession runs.
But I don’t want to her.
"I want you to choose me," I say. "Fully. Willingly.” I curl my fingers around hers. She doesn't move, doesn’t pull away. "I want you to look at me the way you looked at that fire. Like I'm something you created. Something that belongs to you. I want to make you my queen so everyone has to bow to you. Worship you, like I do."
"That's—"
"Possessive. Obsessive. Dangerous." I nod. "Yes. All of those things. I'm not going to pretend otherwise. I'm not going to play at being safe or reasonable or anything other than what I am." I reach up again, this time cupping her face with both hands. Her skin is cold from the wind. I want to warm it. Want to press my mouth to every inch of her until she's burning. "I'm a man who wants you so badly it's rewriting every rule I thought I lived by. And I don't know if that makes you my salvation or my damnation, but I know I'm done fighting it."
Her hands come up, and I think she's going to push me away.
Instead, she grips my wrists. Holds on.
"This is a mistake," she says.
"Probably."
"It's going to destroy us both."
I smile. Dark and full of promise. "I'm counting on it,zhar-ptitsa."
