Page 70 of Twisted Cage

Konstantin’s molten glare carves a path over my skin from where he stands with my brother.

“He’s action and reaction incarnate. Every look sets me on fire. I want to kill him almost as much as I madly love him. He doesn’t let me get away with any of my rich bitch, princess bullshit.”

The cords in his neck flex while barely banked rage rolls off him in agonizing waves as he watches us.

“He doesn’t care about appropriateness and decency or some inane protocol as to how I’m supposed to be touched. He doesn’t revere me like this goddamned work of art, on display, untouchable, collecting dust and withering in solitude. He wants to break me… and break right along with me. He’s pleasure and pain to the point of blissful exhaustion.”

His knuckles turn white with the force of his grip on the glass, making me wonder how the crystal manages to not fracture into thousands of razor-sharp shards in his violent hands.

“He’s a brutal picture of anger. Bold cutting slashes of red crisscrossing on the canvas. He’ll lash at me, leaving a sting that takes my breath away. And when I’m pulsing with agony, he loves it away. When he touches me, he’s gold. Shimmering and warm, he soothes every ache.”

“Nik,” Logan whispers as he pulls back and cups my face, “He’s real, isn’t he?”

My heart lodges in my throat, choking me. All I can do is stare at him while I harness every bit of my willpower to keep from confirming what Logan just guessed.

“I’m so sorry.” Bringing his forehead to mine, he sways with me. For just a moment, it’s just my wordless non-confession, but confession all the same. Shared with maybe the only person alive who can understand how impossibly fair it is.

I grip his wrists and squeeze, battling tears, so many fucking tears. “Make me laugh, Logan. If I don’t laugh right this minute, I’m going to lose it.”

“Did I ever tell you about that time your brother got his dick stuck in his zipper?”

“Oh my God!” I let out an unladylike messy snort, my eyes still burning from the unattainable image of Konstantin and me I painted for Logan.

“Yup, broke skin and everything. Had to rub Neosporin into his knob daily. He was late to first period every single day that week…”

With his every horrifying word, my misery slips away and the ground under me solidifies once more with purpose. “Oh, gross.”

“Listen, once you’ve activated the launch sequence, you have to run with it.”

“Thank you, Logan. Seriously. I needed this. Now I feel like I can get through another hour… maybe.”

He whips me away, spins me, and ends on a dip that has my head spinning and the first real smile of the night spreading across my face. “You’ll need another dose of me in an hour, got it.”

“Make it a half hour. I like you.”

He smiles down at me and winks. “I like you too.” Bringing me back into his arms, in a more socially acceptable hold, his eyes trail over my shoulder and he winces. “We’re being watched.”

I glance over my shoulder and meet Konstantin’s thundering gaze. “It’s nothing.” The lie falls from my lips so easily and I hate it. “He’s probably still mad that I called him a boomer.”

Logan throws his head back and laughs. “Boomer? Ouch. That would do it. Although, if the last year is any indication, he’s only just coming into his prime.”

I stumble, but Logan’s firm grip keeps me upright. “Why? What happened in the last year?”

My fingers tremble on Logan’s shoulder, and my stomach flutters with anticipation. Despite all the reasons I definitely shouldn’t care, I want to know how he reacted to my disappearing. I pathetically want him to care.

“He made it his mission to find you and left a lot of bodies in his wake. At least when I go on this little assignment for Nikolaj, I won’t be cleaning up the bloodshed.”

“He didn’t… he doesn’t…” Konstantin has never shied away from violence, away from doing what needs to be done, but he never needlessly killed people and certainly not in some uncontrolled slaughter the way Logan makes it sound. “But he wouldn’t expose Nikolaj like that. He’s too cautious.”

He shakes head. “Not in the last year, he wasn’t. He was a man possessed. God help anyone who stood in his way.”

“Konstantin?”

“Yeah. I don’t think Nikolaj was even a blip on his radar in the past year. Konstantin had one goal. Finding you.”

I glance over at the man in question, trying to see the man Logan is describing, to find he’s reading something on his phone. Something that has him ditching his drink and typing in rapid reply. “He’s never been quick to violence. He’s methodical, with the patience of a damn saint.”

“Not anymore, he’s not. When he wasn’t searching or killing, when he had no leads or needed rest, he spent most of his time underground. The crypt is the one place we haven’t modernized down there. He won’t let us touch it.”

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