Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Childish hopes, but hopes nonetheless.
Now, this strong, honorable bear was asking her to believe in herself, in her own goodness. “It’s hard,” she whispered, a hot splash sliding down her cheek. “I’m so scared.”
Tugging her even closer, not a breath between them, he rubbed his cheek against the side of her temple. She felt enfolded in him, protected by him. “I know,” he said. “But you have courage upon courage, Theo mine. You survived a fucking Councilor—and you lived to dance on his nonexistent grave. Nonexistent because he was blown to pieces. Just in case you forgot. Some dreams do come true.”
Laughter bubbled through the tears, her chest aching.
“Then you got tangled up with the most handsome bear you’ve ever seen.” Rumbling words against her ear. “A good thing, because said bear might otherwise have been forced to kidnap you and steal you away to his den.”
Tears continued to fall from her eyes, a faucet that once turned, couldn’t be closed.
“Theo.” Her feet leaving the carpet as Yakov scooped her up in his arms and walked to sit on the bed, with Theo held tight against him. Managing to grab the soft blanket at the foot of the bed, he opened it out and wrapped it around her back, so that she was cradled in his warmth and the plushness of the blanket.
“Get it out, pchelka. Get the poison out. It doesn’t belong inside you. You’ve paid the price for your grandfather’s evil long enough. It’s time to be Theo. Just Theo.”
She didn’t know if it was the flagrant permission, if she’d needed that, or if it was him—her Yakov, who thought more of her than she’d ever thought of herself. The dam broke. She cried for the girl she’d once been, so happy and good at heart. She cried for the girl she’d become, so lost and hurting. She cried for the teenage years that were a blur in her mind, no shape to the memories. She cried for the young woman who’d begun to realize what she’d done, the blood that stained her hands.
And she cried for the Theo who’d never had a chance to become, her trajectory forever altered . . . but that same trajectory had brought her to this moment, where she lay in the arms of a man who thought her worth the fight, who thought her good. And it was in that realization that she found the fragile flame of hope.
Yakov existed. And he wasn’t repulsed by her though he’d seen the shadows in her heart. “My grandfather tried to train the rages out of me.” Her voice was a rasp, but she wanted to speak.
Yakov’s entire body grew stiff. “You don’t have to go back there, not to that bastard.”
“No, I want to. It’s the last drop of poison.”
“Hold on.” Yakov kicked off his boots, then shifted them both so that he was sitting with his back to the headboard and his legs stretched out, Theo cradled against the heated muscle of him.
When she lifted her head, he sucked in a breath, his fingers trembling as he wiped away the remnants of her tears. “I love you, Theo.” Firm words. Generous words. No demand to them. “I fell in puppy love with you in a dream. I could’ve never imagined that the reality would be so much better.”
Theo took a ragged breath, unable to say those same words. Not yet. Not until she’d done this. Tucking her head against Yakov’s neck and chest, she took a deep breath and walked back into the nightmare . . . only, the past didn’t unravel in a painful scroll.
It was . . . faded. Like a photograph left out in the sun.
Leached of poison.
It wasn’t hard to simply say it. “Initially my grandfather believed the rages to be nothing but temper tantrums, a result of my flawed Silence. So when I was seventeen, he began to punish me by tying me to a chair rigged up to deliver a shock at any hint of anger.” The pain had been spiderwebs of fire, but Theo had lived a hard life by then, could bear it.
“Later, when he realized I couldn’t control the episodes, he seemed to gain a perverse pleasure in ‘punishing’ me. We both knew it was something else altogether: he’d found a way to hurt me that wouldn’t affect Pax. He’d always hated that I held the deciding card when it came to how far he could go with me—without my link to Pax, I would’ve been ash in a crematorium fire at seven years of age.”
Theo would never forget her grandfather’s cold expression as he sat across from her in the soundproofed concrete basement of the apartment building where she’d lived with Colette. Two chairs. One bolted to the floor and wired for power, the other sleek, black and the right size for his frame.