Page 19 of Fight

Five

P

I awoke the next morning, not sure how I had slept so hard, but grateful for the rest.

It had been a very long time, very long, since I had rested so well, slept so peacefully.

Not that the night had started that way.

When I’d entered the house, I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but the tidy, comfortable place that had greeted me had not been it. In fact, after Ioan had let me in, I’d stood in the small foyer, hesitant to go farther.

“P, come in,” he’d said.

“This is your place?” I’d replied.

“No,” had come his flat answer.

“I knew it!” I’d exclaimed. The place had been so…normal, I’d been convinced it wasn’t Ioan’s. I didn’t know what his purpose for bringing me there had been, but I knew this wasn’t his house, and I was going to call him on it. “This is someone else’s house. I’m not…”

I’d trailed off when I caught a glimpse of him, saw his eyes silently laughing at me.

“Very funny,” I’d said, glancing around. “But what did you expect? I mean, this doesn’t look like…”

I’d trailed off again, and he’d continued to watch, the smile on his face now matching the expression in his eyes.

“Doesn’t look like what?” he’d said.

“Never mind,” I’d muttered as I’d walked in, swallowing down the bits of trepidation.

Trepidation that had melted away completely by the time he took me to a guest room with an attached bath.

That had been one gift horse I’d refused to look in the mouth, and I’d stood under the steaming-hot shower until the water ran cold. The luxury of feeling safe enough to linger in the shower was one I hadn’t had since long before I’d crossed paths with Markov, and as the hot water had hit my skin, I’d shed a tear, not brave enough to wish that this would last, hope that it would, just grateful for those moments, however short they would be.

Now, I lay in the clean, comfortable bed, the sounds of silence, of peace, making me want to stay here forever.

But being here would mean I was with Ioan, which set off a whole wave of feelings for me to sift through.

I didn’t know what to make of him. It probably said more about me than him that the fact that he’d given me a room and left me entirely alone pretty much qualified him for sainthood in my eyes. Even still, as appreciative as I was, I knew there would be a cost to his kindness, some string that I might not be able to see but that I knew was there.

A fact I needed to remember, even as the other, less wary part of me that hadn’t been stomped out entirely reflected on him an entirely different way.

He seemed so…not normal, because, God, not even I would dare claim that. But different. Friendly, but not in the way I’d seen so often before—a way designed to hide savagery but that only succeeded in revealing it.

He was also patient, something I only got full measure of this morning.

What the fuck had I been thinking last night? I should have been meek, quiet. And what had I done? Pushed, asked questions, given him reasons to make Markov the least of my worries.

But he’d simply waved me off with a few hard looks and even a laugh and nothing more.

Yet.

He hadn’t saved me out of the kindness of his heart, and he wouldn’t continue to put up with me out of the kindness of his heart, but what did he want? Why had he stepped in in the first place?

I thought back to the night before. There was no affection between Markov and Ioan. That had been clear. So maybe I was a way to get back at Markov. My stomach sank. Not a position I wanted to be in. Bad enough to owe Markov and now Ioan. There was no way I’d survive a tug-of-war between them.

I had to be smart.

And quiet!

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