Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I nod. I am tired. Really tired.
He says something else, but I’m already drifting off, and I feel like I’m floating, like I’m lying on a soft cloud and just floating. I hear him talking again, but I can’t hold on to the words.
Can’t hold on to anything.
2
Lev
“Levka.”
My eyes snap open to find Andrei loitering above me. I must have drifted off. Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I sit upright, my gaze drifting to the girl still sleeping on the sofa. Andrei is watching me watch her, and he is curious. This is never a good thing.
“Who is she?”
“Nobody,” I answer sharply. Too sharply. The corner of Andrei’s lip tips up, and he allows his gaze to roam the full length of her body as if it’s a challenge. He can’t really see anything beneath the blanket I draped over her, but he’s irritating the fuck out of me, and he knows it. This is what Andrei wants. Everything is a challenge to him. From the day my uncle took me under his wing, my cousin has been a thorn in my side. He is jealous and petty, and everything becomes a competition with him.
“What do you need?” I stand and obstruct his view of Katerina.
“My father is on his way,” he says. “He requested a meeting with both of us this afternoon.”
A bitter taste coats my tongue as I offer him a stiff nod. There is no use arguing the matter. Whatever my uncle says is law. But I still suspect that Andrei didn’t drag himself away from the bar just to tell me this news. He is curious about Katerina, as are all the other guys around the club. It is not common practice for me to bring a woman up here. Unlike Andrei, I don’t make a habit out of fishing the easy pool of drunk women who frequent Delirium. I keep a low profile around here for a reason. As far as the rest of the Vory are concerned, I have no attachments. Because attachments become vulnerabilities.
I cross my arms and wait for Andrei to leave. He hesitates, considering some alternatives that might delay his departure. I can’t be fucked dealing with him today, so I speed things along by reaching for my leather jacket and slipping it over my shoulders.
“I’m taking her home,” I tell him. “What time does Vasily want to meet?”
“Noon,” he grumbles.
“Then I will see you at noon.”
With a grunt, he disappears into the elevator, and I am left alone with Katerina. I’m surprised when she peeks up at me from beneath the curtain of wild hair, and I wonder how much of the conversation she actually heard before she opened her eyes.
“Good morning,” she offers in a raspy voice.
“Good morning.” My eyes roam over her makeup-stained face. It looks as though she’s had the night from hell, but somehow, she’s still beautiful. Someone as young and pretty and vulnerable as her shouldn’t be in a place like this. But she’s only nineteen, I remind myself. Too young to know better. I wonder if she even remembers anything from last night. If she even realizes how badly her night could have ended if it had been someone else in my place. Tension floods my body as I allow myself to observe her; this tragic, wild creature who had the unfortunate luck of stumbling into my path. I can’t decide what’s worse, the monsters who tried to corner her last night, or the monster in me demanding that I allow myself just one taste. One kiss. One touch. One fuck.
Christ. She’s staring up at me with those pale green eyes, and I’m becoming all too aware of the escalating temperature in the room. I need to look away. I need to be the one to grasp onto logical thought. Because right now, all I can think about is the way her body felt against mine when she was trying to climb me like a tree last night. If she remembers that, I can’t tell, but when she clears her throat, I realize I need to fucking say something.
“There’s a bottle of water.” I gesture to the table. “And some Ibuprofen. I figured you might have a headache this morning.”
I wait for her reaction, half expecting her to start demanding answers about what happened between us. But instead, she simply sits up and scrubs the sleep from her eyes before she reaches for the water. “Thank you for this. My throat is so dry.”
“That’s what happens when you party too hard,” I observe, my tone harsher than I intend.
She winces and shakes her head, almost as if she’s disappointed in herself. “I know. That was a really stupid thing to do.”
“I won’t disagree.”
She glances up at me and frowns. I’m being an asshole, and I know it. Last night, she was practically begging me to fuck her. Pawing at me like I was her life raft. Now the illusion is shattered, and she’s already looking for the nearest exit. I don’t want to let her leave, but I need more than anything for her to go. For reasons I can’t really comprehend in my current state of mind, I feel like a hunter staring at his prey. I’m drawn to this girl in a way I haven’t been drawn to anyone else… ever. And that’s exactly why I need to let her run, as fast and as far as she can.