Felicity
When Barinov grabs my thigh, it feels as though five overweight eels are slithering against my skin. His hand is clamped so firmly over my mouth I feel the moisture of his palm squeezing between my lips. I kick out, try to wriggle out from beneath him, but he’s stronger than a fat man ought to be. Please, please, please, I scream. But no, I don’t. Not out loud. I scream but no words emerge from my lips. I scream in my head, willing myself on. But no matter how much I scream, I can’t will myself stronger. I can’t make it so I have enough power to counter this hulking brute. I push harder, my tendons twisting, veins popping against my skin, but nothing happens.
Barinov, giggling like a kid out of a horror movie, slides his hand up my leg, into my dress.
Dimly, as if from a great distance, I hear the shower turn off in the next room. Then, less than second later, Roma charges into the bedroom. He’s completely naked and water flies from him. He looks down for a beat at Barinov and me squished beneath him, and then launches himself at Barinov.
Barinov lets me go in a blink and rises to meet Roma. He throws a backhand and Roma ducks it, aims a punch at Barinov’s gut. Barinov takes it like nothing has happened. Roma hits him twice more and Barinov just grunts.
“I have been beaten worse than that by little girls,” Barinov breathes.
I lean up, running my hands over my body. I feel tight. I can’t breathe. I suck in gasping, hollow breaths. Barinov’s weight has crushed something in me. Winded me. I hunch over and suck in and out, in and out, trying to steady my breathing.
Roma ignores Barinov’s words. He dances back as Barinov charges bull-like right at me. Roma steps aside, and Barinov stops short just before crashing into the wall. Roma’s muscles are huge and glistening, pressing against his naked body. He doesn’t seem to notice he’s naked, doesn’t even see me lying on the bed. His dark blue eyes stare at Barinov’s with killer’s instinct. He’s a man absorbed in his craft, oblivious of his surroundings.
Barinov ducks, feints with one hand, and throws a hook with the other. Roma doesn’t flinch at the feint. He dodges the hook, jumps aside, and then jabs Barinov in the face. It looks oddly soft, but that’s an illusion; it’s only Roma’s control which makes it look so. Barinov tumbles backward and blood pisses from his nose in a great shower. He totters on his feet and Roma jumps up and swings his arm in a massive arc, clotheslining Barinov in his fat neck. Barinov makes a choking sound and falls to his knees. Then Roma hops over him in one quick motion, reaches down and grabs his head, and twists once. A crack sounds. Barinov’s eyes go blank and he slides to the floor as though boneless.
As soon as Barinov is dead, Roma steps over him and comes to me.
“Hush,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.
He reaches up and touches my forehead, sticky and hot with sweat.
“You’re either winded or having a panic attack,” he tells me.
My breathing gets quicker and quicker, my chest tighter. Everything is fuzzy, out of focus. Roma’s words barely reach me.
He takes my hand, squeezes it. “Listen to me,” he says. “You need to listen to me.”
I can’t. I can barely hear him. I stare at the wall, wishing the tightness in my chest would go.
He lets go of my hand and grabs my face with his hands, directing my gaze to him. His eyes are hard and his body is taut with veins and muscles. Water drips down him in small beads. He watches me with solid eyes. “You need to steady your breathing,” he says, bringing his face close to mine. “Okay? Felicity. Listen. I’m going to count your breathing with you. Okay? When I say one, breathe in. Then hold it. When I say two, breathe out. Nod if you understand.”
With an effort, I nod.
He takes me through the breathing exercises. One . . . two . . . one . . . two . . .
Slowly the tightness in my chest loosens. My breathing slows. The fuzziness becomes clear.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay, I’m better. Thank you. God, thank you, Roma.”
He nods shortly. Then he makes to let go of my face. I dart my hands up and catch his hands before he can withdraw them, press them closely into my skin. “Don’t,” I say. “Not yet.”
He watches my face for a long moment. Something seems to change in him. His eyes are no longer so hard. The wave of blue relents and light shines through.
“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” he says.
We watch each other. And despite everything, the attraction is too strong.
He leans in, and I lean in with him.
We press our lips together, breathing in deep breaths of passion, nerves tingling around my mouth and down my neck. I kiss him like I’ve never kissed anybody before, completely without reservation, and then he leans back, a shocked expression on his face.
“I have to protect you,” he says, as much to himself as to me.