There was a longer silence while his brothers did exactly what Viktor was doing – drinking coffee to give themselves a little time to figure out how to respond to that. Blythe bit her lip to keep from breaking the silence. Seventeen others? Good God. Was he crazy? If they all were as scary as his friend Reaper, then she was moving out and leaving the house to all of them. His birth brothers could deal with them.
“So you plan to bring an outlaw biker club with you to settle here. Blythe?” Ilya looked straight at Viktor’s wife. “How do you feel about that?”
Viktor’s fingers tightened involuntarily on the nape of her neck in warning. She moistened suddenly dry lips, feeling as if she were walking through a minefield with all the Prakenskiis.
“I want Viktor to have a home near his brothers – his family,” she hastily added. “If these other men and women mean that to him – that they’re family as well – then of course they should be close to him.” That was as diplomatic as she could possibly make it. She stumbled a little under every single one of the Prakenskii brothers’ eyes. They were weighing her words, watching to see if she was under duress of any kind.
Of course she was under duress with Viktor back and all of them watching her like hawks. She took another deep breath. “And all of you should accept them into the family.”
“All of us, Blythe?” Gavriil said very gently. He rarely spoke above a low tone, but for some reason, one could always hear and understand him.
A faint tremor went down her back. She’d made a mistake and she could feel it. Although it didn’t show on their faces, they knew.
“Blythe, why don’t we go get some beer for everyone rather than this coffee,” Ilya suggested.
“Why don’t you leave my wife the hell alone,” Viktor snapped, sitting up straight. Menace poured off of him in waves.
Immediately tension ratcheted up another notch. Blythe despised being the bone of contention, but really? Seventeen members of an outlaw biker club in her home? On the farm? What?
“That’s still to be determined,” Lev said. “I think I’d like to go with Blythe and Ilya into the other room and talk this out.”
“Maybe the two of you can step outside with me and I’ll teach you some manners. Whether you like it or not, I’m still the head of this family, and Blythe is most definitely my wife.”
“Fuck that,” Ilya said crudely. “You don’t show up after thirty years of silence and decide we’re going to follow your lead. It doesn’t work that way, and just for your information, Blythe is our family.”
Viktor was out of his chair so fast Blythe didn’t have time to catch ahold of his arm. Ilya and Lev both leapt up as well.
“Seriously?” Gavriil’s voice was calm. He didn’t move from his chair. “That’s how you plan on handling this situation? Sit down, you two, unless you want him to beat you to a bloody pulp.”
“He couldn’t,” Ilya stated.
“He could,” Gavriil said. “What’s more, he would. He is the head of the family whether you want to accept that or not. Blythe is his wife. You wouldn’t allow anyone to interfere in your relationship with Joley any more than I would allow it with Lexi.”
Ilya shook his head. “He was gone thirty years. He didn’t do a fucking thing for me, for any of us. He has his own family and has chosen to become an outlaw biker.”
Blythe inhaled sharply. That wasn’t true. All of them had made bargains with the devil in order to keep their youngest brother as clean as possible. He went to the least brutal school. He worked for Interpol in a legitimate business. She knew they’d all looked after him. Her sisters had told her how much keeping the baby of the family as clean as possible meant to them all.
She expected Viktor to object, but instead, he went absolutely still and then like ice. At least his exterior was like ice. Beneath that glacier was a red-hot volcanic roiling mass that could explode at any time.
“That’s enough, Ilya,” Gavriil said quietly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Viktor paced across the room to the wide stone fireplace, his back to his brothers. He stood staring at the pictures on the mantle, and Blythe found herself standing as well, suddenly terrified for him. There was nothing she could say or do; it was already too late. She knew the exact moment when he saw it. His hand reached out and his body jerked as though someone had punched him hard right in the gut.
She’d framed it in gold filigree. The calligraphy said Held with love, surrounded by two loving hearts. Their daughter, Viktoria. She’d lived two days, and a nurse had taken a picture of the tiny infant lying on Blythe’s stomach. It was the only picture she had of their child and she’d put the only picture she had of Viktor on the other side, so their child had her mother and father with her in that moment. She’d had the same picture put on canvas for her wall in her sitting room, but for him to see this now…
Viktor’s finger stroked a gentle caress over the infant as if he could somehow touch her through the glass. Blythe had done the exact same thing so many times she worried she’d wear down the glass. Grief filled the room, so strong, so intense she couldn’t stop herself from going to him. For her it was five years. For him, their child had just died. How much more could he take?
She wrapped her arms around him and just held him, feeling the shudders go through his body as he tried to remain upright and unbowed in facing the reality of the death of their child. There was silence in the room. She knew the Prakenskiis were gifted, she just didn’t know in what way. She had no way of knowing if they felt his grief. He wouldn’t like that. He wouldn’t want to appear vulnerable in any way. She desperately wanted to shield him, she just didn’t know how.
Blythe knew the others couldn’t see the picture, not with Viktor in front of it. She slipped around Viktor until her front was pressed tightly to his side. The position enabled her to reach up to the mantle.
“Gavriil is with Lexi,” she said softly, reaching up to touch Lexi’s picture. “She’s the youngest and a sweetheart. You’ll love her immediately, Viktor. No one can help it. Isn’t that right, Gavriil?” She’d chosen him because he remembered his brother. He knew what Viktor had gone through, at least part of it. He’d help her defuse the volatile situation and at the same time give Viktor the minutes he needed to recover.
Gavriil stood up as well and came to the fireplace. She thought his approach was interesting. He didn’t come up behind them, but rather from an angle, keeping his pace slow and deliberate. His eyes were on the pictures. Not Lexi’s, but the one his brother had touched so gently. He reached out as if he would touch Viktor’s shoulder.
“Don’t.” One word from Viktor. A warning. A statement.
Gavriil’s hand moved to Lexi’s picture. “I’m working on getting her to marry me. She said yes, but we haven’t actually gotten to the priest. I’m afraid if I push it, she’ll run. She’s a beautiful person, inside and out, and she has tremendous patience with me. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
There was the smallest of tremors in Viktor’s hand when he took the picture from Gavriil. That nearly imperceptible shake made Blythe’s heart clench in reaction. She knew Gavriil had to see it because he didn’t miss anything. She knew if he looked at her she would shatter. She moved closer to Viktor, if it was at all possible, her fingers curling tightly in the tee that was stretched across his broad chest. At once Viktor’s hand covered hers.
“I’d love to meet her. As soon as this mess is over, Gavriil, I’ll be more than happy to meet my future sister-in-law. I take it she’s the one who works the farm.” Viktor’s voice was rock steady. He turned Blythe away from the fireplace, wrapping his arms around her as he did so.
She remembered the feeling of being safe and protected from earlier, when they were together. Viktor could do that, wrap her up in his strength. He would fight for her if there were need. He would console her and comfort her. He was the one needing those things, yet the moment she was distressed, he offered them to her.
“I cook,” Lev volunteered before anyone else could say anything. “Maybe we should throw a big party.”
“Barbecue,” Maxim added. “The women can make all those side dishes that are so good. And Lucia makes this dessert that’s sheer heaven. I’m putting on weight with that girl’s cooking. Airiana and I are adopting Lucia and her sisters and brother. Benito is a mini-me, unfortunately, and determined to keep his sisters from ever coming to harm again. Expect him to come down Blythe’s chimney or something.”
Blythe was certain they’d read the grief filling the room. They didn’t understand it, but several of Viktor’s brothers glanced at the framed pictures she kept on the mantle. She knew they were unable to see what had upset their oldest brother, because Viktor had deliberately turned the picture away from their line of sight, but they followed Gavriil’s lead in spite of the tension between them all.
“Sounds good,” Viktor said. “I want to meet all the wives.”
“If you don’t mind,” Blythe said, “I need a little air.” She could barely breathe, Viktor’s emotions choking her. She wished she could be stoic like him, an expression of stone, cold eyes and steady hands. Once past the initial moment, that first piercing of his heart, he had stood unbending. She hoped if she got Viktor out of the room, Gavriil would be able to talk his brothers into being kinder. He saw the photograph.
“We’ll be right back,” Viktor said immediately. He took her hand and, without another glance at his brothers, led her out onto her spacious wraparound covered porch.
Right in front of her stood the man Viktor had called “Reaper.” He rested one hip against a tree, eating an apple. Blythe narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that my apple?”
“Yes.” Reaper kept eating.
That meant, with all the Prakenskii brothers, including Gavriil, in her living room, Reaper had entered her kitchen undetected. That was a scary thought.
“Is everyone still here?”
Reaper paused in the act of taking another bite. He nodded. “Yep.”
“Are they all eating my apples?”
Reaper nodded again. “Yep.”
Blythe couldn’t help it. She knew she shouldn’t encourage Viktor or his brothers, but Reaper standing there without expression, looking scary with his tattoos and badass persona, eating an apple he’d filched from her kitchen, was too funny. She burst out laughing.
“Have you eaten anything tonight?”
Reaper glanced down at the mostly eaten apple. “This apple.”
“You’re not going to fix them all food. Get out of here,” Viktor snapped before she could offer. “I mean it, Reaper. Take everyone with you.”
“Not gonna happen, Czar.”
“Do you think my own birth brothers are going to take out a gun and shoot me?”
“Sounded like it,” Reaper said. “’Course I would have blown his fuckin’ head off first,” he added in the same casual tone. “Maybe one or two of the others, but Savage, Storm and Ice would have taken them.”
Blythe shivered. For a moment she’d forgotten she was dealing with men who had no compunction about killing. Reaper was so casual, as if he was talking about the weather. These men were trained assassins. She’d thought Gavriil was bad, that the others had done what they needed to do to survive. Yes, they were capable of killing if they had no other choice, but Viktor and Reaper and probably the others would make it their choice. They didn’t seem to have a middle ground.
“You don’t lay a finger on those boys,” Viktor said, his tone low and mean.
“Wasn’t plannin’ on using my hands, Czar. A bullet would have worked.” Reaper sounded as calm as ever.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
Blythe threw her hands into the air. “That’s it. I’m done. I’m at my absolute limit. Viktor, leave. Take your men with you. All of them. I’m going in and going to bed.”
She turned and Viktor’s six birth brothers were fanned out behind them, all staring at Reaper with cool eyes.
“And you. All of you. Go home. I’m perfectly fine. Perfectly fine. I’m sorry you got called out in the middle of the night, and I thank you for coming, but go home. Ilya and Lev, both of you should be ashamed of yourselves. Your brother comes home and instead of welcoming him you are nasty and mean. I’m ashamed of both of you. I don’t care what resentments you harbor, the least you could have done was ask him how he is. Now go. All of you.”
She pulled away from Viktor, stomped right through the wall of Prakenskii brothers, slammed her screen and then the door, flipped off the porch light and stormed upstairs. She was shaking by the time she got to the top of the stairs. Hopefully no one got killed on her front porch. If they did, she was burying them out in the forest and then she was getting in her car and driving away.
Sinking down onto the top stair, she covered her face with her hands and let herself cry. She thought she wouldn’t have any more tears, but Viktor had unleashed an entire flood. She didn’t even bother to listen to hear if the men came to blows or not. Eventually she made her way up to the master bedroom. Viktor’s scent was everywhere. His ragged denim jacket was on the end of her bed.
She should have tossed it out of her room, but she couldn’t. Instead, she ignored it completely, took a hot, scented bath in the hopes that her perfume would cover Viktor’s outdoorsy, spicy smell, the one she loved, and got ready for bed. In the end she picked up his jacket, held it to her like a favorite blanket, pulled up her covers, turned off her light and went to sleep from sheer exhaustion.
Blythe came awake fast, aware she wasn’t alone. She took in the air around her to try to determine who was in the room with her and if she was in danger or not.
“Are you awake?”
She recognized the voice. Reaper. Viktor’s friend. She immediately sat up, clutching Viktor’s jacket to her, thankful she hadn’t slept in the nude as she normally did. She’d been a little afraid Viktor might show up, and she didn’t want to feel vulnerable. Anxiety gripped her. She pushed back the hair tumbling in her face and looked frantically around for Viktor. Reaper had to be able to hear her heart pounding. She felt like her heart might just come right out of her chest.
“Is something wrong? Did something happen to him?” She pushed back the covers quickly. “Take me to him. I’ll call Libby. She’s home and she can heal anything.” There was no hiding the sudden terror in her voice. Viktor had just come home. Had Evan found out already that he was undercover? Had they shot him? Killed him? Had his birth brothers lost their minds and attacked him?
Reaper shook his head as she dropped both legs to the floor in preparation for finding her clothes. She didn’t even have time to be embarrassed about being caught in her thin, racer-back night tee and little boy shorts, or that she had Viktor’s jacket held so tightly against her. Only then did she become aware they weren’t alone. She turned her head toward the corner where her reading chair was. A woman was curled up there watching her closely – the same woman who had been sitting so casually, as if she belonged, on the back of Viktor’s motorcycle.
Blythe took a deep breath when everything inside her felt frozen. Very slowly she set the denim jacket on the bed beside her as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. “What’s going on?” Before anything else, she had to know Viktor was alive and well.
“I’d never let anything happen to him,” Reaper assured her. “Savage and the others are watching over him, but I wanted to talk to you. We both did.”
“I see,” Blythe said, but she didn’t at all. Now she felt at a distinct disadvantage. The woman in the corner was younger than she was, and really beautiful. She wore makeup while Blythe had carefully washed what little makeup she wore right off.
“We’re not here to threaten you in any way,” Reaper said.
He had the deadest eyes of any man she’d ever seen. She just managed to keep from shivering looking at him. He was cold, through and through. Yet he was intensely loyal to Viktor, and she could like him for that.
She nodded her head and held on to calm. She had always remained calm in the face of her mother’s shrieking temper tantrums. She could apply those childhood lessons here very well. Her fingers crept down and across the sheets to the edge of the jacket. A talisman. Reaper saw, but she didn’t care what she was revealing to him. “Do you want something to eat? Drink? I’m sure I could manage to find you both something.” She kept her tone friendly, but not too friendly. She didn’t want them to see through her façade.
“I’m going to turn on the light,” Reaper warned. “I want to show you something.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle. Viktor had been the most immodest man she’d ever met. Nudity meant nothing at all to him. He’d been the one to get her to sleep without clothes. He liked to make love to her in their backyard. Once on their front porch in the dead of night. He didn’t seem to see anything wrong with touching her no matter where they were, and he liked her to do the same. Once, she’d been very brave and she’d dropped to her knees after skinny-dipping with him in the river and she’d sucked him off, the forbidden of being outdoors in the open adding to the excitement.
Reaper slowly removed his jacket and then pulled up his tee with one hand. She just kept from gasping when she saw his body. Viktor had scars, but nothing like what Reaper’s body held. They were everywhere. Burn marks, old knife wounds, bullet scars, at least one kind of whip, other scars she couldn’t identify but thought they had been made by worse things she had no idea of.
He turned his back to her. “Alena. Come here. I want you to show her while I explain.”
Alena gracefully slid from the chair like a slinky cat, moving with the same fluid ripple of muscle the men surrounding her did. “I’m Alena.” She introduced herself as she stepped to the other side of Blythe. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a very long time.”
Blythe forced a small smile. Alena didn’t sound like the “other woman.” Wouldn’t she be there to cut her into little pieces if Viktor was her man? She was more confused than ever. Part of her knew she’d held on to the belief that Alena was Viktor’s woman in order to keep him at arm’s length. Once again, because she was a little afraid of what they planned, she let her hand slide over Viktor’s jacket.
“I want you to take a good look at this tattoo.” Reaper’s voice was as dead as his eyes. Low. So low it was almost a thread of sound, yet at the same time, it was commanding and cold. There would be no disobeying that voice, not without knowing the consequences would be death.
Blythe willingly obliged him. She stared at the rather gruesome tattoo that took up a good deal of his back.
“It’s important for you to know just who and what Viktor really is. Why we ride with him. Why we protect him. You see the tree trunk. That’s Viktor. He was thirteen when I came to the school. I was four and my brother was three when we were taken from our parents. There were two hundred eighty-seven students that over the years were brought to that school. Eighteen of us survived. You see the limbs of the trees? There are seventeen of them.”
Alena touched each of the branches on Reaper’s back.
“Viktor saved all seventeen of us. He didn’t just save our lives. He saved our humanity. Or at least he managed to save most of our humanity.”
Blythe’s gaze jumped to Reaper’s face as he looked back at her over his shoulder. She knew he was telling her he had no humanity left in him, and she believed him. Whatever this man had been through had been worse than hell.
“The crows in the trees represent the children we couldn’t save. They carry the skulls of the ones we killed to avenge them.”
Alena touched the crows almost reverently and then stepped away as Reaper reached for his shirt and yanked it back over his head.
“The skulls on the ground? In the roots?”
“Each of us has a different number. We’re assassins. That’s what they trained us for and that’s what they had us do for the government. Others we killed to survive. Each of us carries the weight of that on our skin.”
She raised her eyes to his. There had been piles of skulls in that root system, so many she wasn’t certain she could count them all. This was the scariest man she’d ever run across. “You’re telling me this because…”
“I can’t tell you why Viktor fought to save us, only that he did. He’s a good man. They don’t come better. He still fights for us. In all the time I’ve ever known him, the only things he’s asked for were to help him keep his birth brothers safe and to watch over you. You’re everything to him.”
Blythe made an involuntary movement away from him as he turned back around, rejecting what he was telling her. She shook her head, carefully threading her fingers together, Viktor’s jacket between them to give her courage. She didn’t feel any threat from either of the two; in fact she couldn’t feel Reaper’s emotions at all. Only Alena’s.
“Ink, one of our brothers, began that sketch when we were teenagers. Eventually he perfected it and we took it as our symbol. We call ourselves Torpedo Ink.”
Blythe knew that in Russia, sometimes a hit man or assassin was referred to as a torpedo. The Ink could be a play on the word incorporated. Whatever the reason for their name, no one should take it at face value, least of all her. These were the men and women Viktor expected her to take in along with some unknown teenaged girl. She crushed his jacket in her fist.
“Why a motorcycle club? Won’t that get you unwanted attention? All of you have had to be so careful not to draw attention to yourselves.”
“We ride because it makes us feel free when we’ve never been free. Viktor gave us that as well. It was difficult to remove our colors and ride with the Swords, but we’d follow him anywhere.”
Alena nodded solemnly. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for Viktor. He figured out a way to keep us alive in that horrible place. We made it through because of him. I know it looked bad, me being on the bike, but the Swords would never have believed him staying away from other women if he didn’t have an ‘old lady.’ It protected both of us to pretend. I swear to you, he’s a big brother to me, nothing else.”
Blythe didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. She had mixed feelings about them coming to her in the middle of the night on Viktor’s behalf, mostly because it made her like them, and she didn’t want to feel anything at all for them – especially Reaper. She worried that he was incapable of feeling true emotion, but clearly, he felt something for Viktor.
She cleared her throat. “So you had actually formed a club before Viktor rode with the Swords.”
Reaper nodded. “We found riding motorcycles and the structure of a family, knowing we had one another’s backs at all times, no matter what assignment we took, kept us sane. Well” – he glanced at Alena – “some of us sane.”
“You’re sane, Reaper,” she reprimanded softly. “And we were a brotherhood, a family, long before the club.”
Reaper shrugged and turned all his attention back to Blythe. “After Viktor met you, he was different. I thought we’d lose him before that. All of us watched him so carefully.”
That brought her head up. “What do you mean, lose him?”
“The deaths of all those other children weighed on him so heavily. He blamed himself for not being able to prevent them,” he explained. “Hell, he was ten when he got there. Some of the kids were older than he was. Still, that didn’t matter. His sense of responsibility was already so developed that he took on that burden. Sometimes, he just couldn’t live with it.”
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Just the thought of Viktor killing himself was too much after reliving the death of her daughter with him. Involuntarily she brought the jacket to her face and held it there for a moment, uncaring what either of them thought.
She remembered more than one night waking up to Viktor sitting on the edge of the bed, head in hands, sweat beading his body, his breath coming in ragged pants as if he’d run a marathon. He wouldn’t talk to her, so she talked to him in the only way she could; she made love to him, fiercely protective, wholly surrendering to him, giving him everything he demanded and needed. He held her so tightly afterward she thought every bone in her body might break, but she never protested. Eventually he fell asleep, and she would watch over him as if she could prevent whatever terrible nightmares might creep into their world. The idea that Viktor might ever contemplate ending his life was terrifying to her.
“Once he met you, his entire world seemed to change. He was happy. He actually laughed. He was just different. When he had to leave you, he was devastated. He planned to get back to you immediately, but Absinthe was shot all to hell and in the middle of a very bad situation. Viktor was the closest, so he went to try to save him. They had to hole up for a few weeks, and then Sorbacov gave him an assignment.”
She realized that Reaper was uncomfortable not only telling her so much, but actually talking. He was stepping out of his usual role to advocate for a man he clearly loved. That made her want to listen when before she’d been reluctant to know anything more about Viktor or his life without her.
“You didn’t ever turn down Sorbacov or you found several hit men at your door. More, Sorbacov threatened his brothers. He sent you messages, Blythe. I saw them. He tried to get his birth brothers to check up on you. Eventually we did, but you were here at that time and seemed fine and happy. No one knew why you wouldn’t reply back. He could only assume it was because you were angry with him and justifiably so. He thought if he could get here to talk to you he could explain everything.”
She knew what he was telling her was the truth. She ached inside for both of them – Viktor and her. “There are things that happened while he was gone,” she said softly, trying to explain without telling them. She couldn’t go there again, not at night, not when she was alone and Viktor was so close. “Sometimes things happen that make it impossible to go back.” She prayed he wouldn’t ask because she had the feeling one didn’t tell Reaper no when he asked a question. Maybe he already knew. He’d been on the roof when Viktor and she had been talking.
Alena sat on the bed beside her. “You don’t have to go back, Blythe,” she said gently. “Only forward. Viktor taught us that. Whatever happened to you, and I know it was bad because Viktor was a mess tonight, you have to keep going forward. Hopefully with him. Just give him a chance to talk to you. To really talk to you and you hear what he’s saying to you. I know no one will ever love you more or better.”
She found herself nodding when everything in her screamed for self-preservation. She moistened suddenly dry lips before she could actually find her voice. “Viktor isn’t the kind of man to give up when he wants something.”
“That’s true,” Alena said, “but he likes that you have a good life here, and he doesn’t want to mess that up for you. He comes with baggage – with us.” She looked at Reaper and then down at her hands.
It was the first time that Alena seemed uncertain, and at first Blythe thought it might be affected, as if she was playing a role to get sympathy. Alena had been trained to appear as anything she wanted to be just as Viktor and Reaper had. The one thing a person couldn’t do was fake emotion around her. Blythe felt that uncertainty.
“What are your plans?” she asked gently, because it was in her nature to soothe others in distress.
“We’re looking at land in the Caspar area. There’s a lot of land and houses for sale there, and we’d need to be able to purchase land that is zoned for businesses as well. We’ve never actually had a home base. We thought Ink could have a tattoo shop. I’d like a restaurant. I love to cook and for lots of people. Something small, but nice. Keys, Master, Player and Maestro would like to have a small club so they could play regularly, and there’s a roadhouse for sale. That would be awesome to have.” Enthusiasm poured into her voice. “Transporter and Mechanic would love their own garage where they could build custom cars and bikes and just tinker all day.”
Blythe looked up at Reaper’s blank features. He could have been carved from stone. The lines in his face cut deep. There weren’t going to be any plans for a shop for him. She couldn’t imagine how he could possibly integrate back into society. For that matter, she doubted if any of them could.
The Prakenskii brothers hadn’t, not really. Stefan did help Judith with the art gallery, and Lev went out with Rikki on the boat to dive for sea urchins. Maxim headed up security for Airiana, who worked for the defense department. Gavriil stayed close to Lexi on the farm, far away from people. Casimir had just returned with Lissa, and Blythe had no idea what his plans were.
“Don’t say no to him because of us,” Reaper said. It was the first time his voice was a little gruff. It had dropped an octave, causing Blythe to search his face. There was no expression, but something worked behind those cold, cold eyes.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Blythe said. “Really, my problems with Viktor have nothing to do with any of you.”
Just being in the same room with Reaper tore her heart out. She could see why Viktor kept close watch over him. It was heartbreaking to see and feel him. And Alena… The woman was young and clearly lethal. Blythe had that built-in radar, her compass when it came to reading people. As a child she had known there was something “off” about her mother. Alena looked like the sweetest innocent, but she felt… dangerous.
“But still, you want to give him a chance, don’t you?”
Those soft words brushed at the walls of her mind and Blythe instantly recoiled. Simultaneously, Reaper let out a low growl. “Alena. We agreed. No manipulation. Not on Blythe. She’s one of us. She’s Viktor’s chosen woman. His wife, and that’s sacred.”
At the reprimand, Alena’s eyes swam with tears and her barriers came tumbling down. The force of her fears hit Blythe so hard she reeled under the impact. Alena was terrified. What would Reaper do to her?
“I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, Blythe. I did promise Reaper before we came here, but I’m so afraid of losing Viktor.”
The relief was tremendous. Alena wasn’t afraid of Reaper’s retaliation; she was afraid for Viktor. There was no faking that overwhelming fear. With relief came trepidation. If his “family” was so afraid of losing him, it had to be real. Now that she’d seen him, now that she knew something or someone else had prevented him from getting to her, she knew she couldn’t live with knowing he wasn’t somewhere in the world.
“I’ll talk to him, but I can’t promise anything. When he shot Ray, dropped the gun and then grabbed me, whispering he’d be back in a couple of days to explain, I barely registered it. Later, when the police confirmed who Ray really was, it was all I could think about. I thought maybe he was a boy Ray had harmed, or his brother had been and it was a revenge thing. I didn’t know much about the Prakenskiis until Lev arrived. My cousin Joley is married to Ilya Prakenskii, the youngest brother, but I don’t exactly move in their circles so I’ve never actually talked to Ilya about his brothers.”
“Ilya seemed protective of you.”
Her gaze once again jumped to Reaper’s face. There was no expression and his eyes were back to being dead, but he’d been there in the house somewhere, watching over Viktor. Even the Prakenskiis hadn’t known or they wouldn’t have allowed it. Not even Gavriil, and he was much like Viktor. Even while it had made her a little uncomfortable that Reaper could be in her house unseen, she was grateful that he was the one dedicated to protecting Viktor.
“All the Prakenskiis have an extremely protective instinct. Joley is my cousin. That makes me family. They also have a huge sense of family.”
“We do too,” Alena said.
“We’d better go,” Reaper said. “Viktor would beat the shit out of me if he knew I was here. And I have to tell him. I still have that to do.”
“Alena, just one thing,” Blythe said. “So we understand each other. Manipulation doesn’t work on me. I feel the energy and emotion when you’re using it and it’s easy enough to avoid.”
Alena’s smile was slow in coming, but when it did, it was full and real. “Good to know.” She stood up. “Thanks for listening to us.”
“Anytime, but, Reaper, please don’t make a habit of midnight visits. I often sleep without clothes.”
“Wouldn’t bother me.”
She sighed. She had the feeling he was telling her the strict truth.