Chapter 18

Clara

 

He’s marked my body more than just that one night. Christmas day we spent in his bed. He told me about what he expects of me and that I was never leaving him. Fear coursed through my veins knowing exactly what he meant. I’ve tried to remain as calm as I possibly can, given the situation I’m now in. Everything I thought I knew about Alexei Pavlov has intensified. He’s far more dangerous than I originally thought. That thought was hammered home when he came in a few minutes ago covered in blood.

“Are you hurt?” My initial instinct was to run to him and make sure that the man that’s now holding me hostage, the man that has slowly begun taking my heart into his hands. was alright. The glint in his eye told me not to get too close.

“No, воробей. I’m not hurt. You might want to choose your words more wisely, I almost think you care about me,” he says smirking over his shoulder at me. My heart leaps and heat pools within me. My cheeks flush, a blush working its way up my neck and Alexei sees it. He turns around, his bare chest glistening with sweat.

“Do you like looking at me?” He asks seductively. How could I say no? It’s beyond obvious that I enjoy it. He’s solid and muscled. The tattoos that adorn his body hold my interest just as much as the man himself.

“Why do you have so many tattoos?” His eyes flare before he looks down at his own body.

“They’re symbolic. Many of them are from my time in prison.” I gasp loud enough for him to hear it. His eyes move back to mine and hold steady. I know that the Russians have different values and find their places in the mafia differently than the Irish, but I didn’t know to what extent. I have a feeling that Alexei is about to tell me though.

“Let me wash up and I’ll tell you a little more, yes?” I nod my head and sit back on the bed as he heads into the bathroom. The shower turns on and I do something I haven’t done since I’ve been here. I snoop through his things. I pull out drawers and check for a phone. The one thing I have noticed is that there are no regular phones here. No landlines. Alexei has a cell phone but it’s always with him. To me, that seems odd. Now that I think about it, the only television I have seen is the one here in his room, but he never turns it on. I climb off the bed and silently make my way towards his dresser, digging through those drawers as well. I don’t find anything but a picture of a woman. She’s gorgeous with long dark hair and dark eyes just like Alexei’s. The similarities are obvious, and I know that this woman is somehow related to him. I’m so enraptured by the photo, that I didn’t hear him come out of the bathroom.

“Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it.” His words send a chill down my spine. Does he even know what I’m looking for?

“Who is she?” I ask holding the photo up for him to see. Alexei strolls toward me, a towel around his waist. Taking the picture from my fingers, he gazes at it.

“She was my mother. She was a coward,” he hisses as he looks down at the woman that gave him life.

“She was your mother,” I remind him. He tosses the picture back into the drawer and turns to look me in the eye.

“She killed herself. She left her child to fend for himself. That is a coward in my book.”

“Why did she do it?” His eyes darken, hatred rising in him. Why I want to push him is beyond me. Maybe I’m stupid to want to see him break, or maybe I’m the one that’s really messed up here. Maybe I want him to inflict that pain on me so that I know I’m still alive.

“I just told you why.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“She couldn’t stand seeing me sent away. She didn’t want this life for me, so she bowed out of it. She was nothing more than a body that birthed me. She was nothing!” he roars causing me to jolt.

“My mother left me too,” I say softly.

“She is no better than mine was then. You should be thankful that someone as weak as she was, is no longer in your life.” Alexei turns and walks to the bed sitting on the edge. He turns his head to look at me and motions for me to come to him. I walk toward him, a smirk playing at his lips. He likes when I obey, and I love the looks I get when I do. Does that make me as sick as he is?

“Get on your knees,” he says watching me for any sign that I will disobey him. I drop to my knees in between his legs and peer up at him. “Give me your hand.” Slowly, I raise my hand and he takes it in his. He runs my fingers over the stars on his shoulders.

“These mean I am a Vor. They are symbolic, as I said. No one dares touch me.” His eyes hold power. A power that I was either too naive to see, or he didn’t show it to me before, but I see it now. He moves over the other tattoos and tells me about each of them. The ones he gained in prison. The ones that mean he’s killed. There are many more and I try to comprehend the meaning of each. There is so much information running wild inside my head right now that I can’t keep them straight. When he shifts and raises the towel, he shows me the stars on his knees.

“They mean I will kneel to no one, and that is the truth. I would rather die with my head held high.” I study the detail of each tattoo, the colors intriguing me. I reach for his chest, and he lets me, running my fingers over each line. I’ve never paid much attention to the Irish mafia’s ways because frankly, I didn’t care. I never wanted to be a part of it, so it would be no use for me to learn things.

“What are you thinking?” He asks his voice gruff and steady. I love the rasp of his voice every time he speaks.

“They are all so perfect. Every line was created with a steady hand. Life isn’t steady. Your life is played out on your body. It’s intriguing to me,” I admit although I don’t know if I should have. His hand moves quickly capturing my wrist. He drags me off the floor and into his lap before nuzzling his face into my hair.

“You intrigue me, Clara. I know you are hiding something from me and I plan to find out exactly what it is,” he warns in a deep dark tone. My body shivers and he chuckles. He likes doing that to me. Making me fear him or what he might know.

“I am no one,” I say softly.

“Hmm. You say this, but I think differently. You are most definitely someone.”

“Can I ask you something?” He pulls back, and I turn to look at him.

“You can ask me anything.” I give him a soft smile and lick my lips.

“What do you see when you look at me?” His smile widens and I’m almost afraid to hear what he has to say. My stomach tumbles inside of me as that dark glint appears in his eyes again.

“I see a warrior that survived things not many could have. I see a girl that is naïve enough to believe that she holds any power in this strange relationship we have,” he admits, and I gasp. He thinks I’m weak? His eyes twinkle as though he’s reading my mind. “No, Clara. You are far from weak. Naïve? Yes, but not weak. If you were weak, I would have broken you the other night.”

“Why do you think I’m naïve?”

“I see the way you look at me. I know the things you want, but I can’t give them to you. You might think I can, but reality says it isn’t so. I’m damaged and I don’t apologize for it, but I am always straight with you. I will never love you, воробей. Fuck you, hurt you, repair you, yes, but never love.” My chest feels like it’s caving in. I can’t breathe and yet, I can’t pull away. What is wrong with me? The job I was sent to do should come first in my mind, but when I look into the dark eyes of the man that makes me feel, I can’t seem to stop myself from falling. I’m weightless when I’m with Alexei. He takes all the pain and burden and makes it his own. How can I pull away from that? Even knowing that he would never love me, I still don’t think I could walk away from him.