Page 84 of Crowned

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Elyah and Kirill moved their bedrooms next door to mine, and at first Lilia was spending the night with each of us in turn. Not on any sort of roster but going to whichever man ready to sleep when she was. Her pregnancy has made her restless and her sleep schedule unpredictable. If she comes to bed with me, I often wake to discover Kirill or Elyah sleeping on Lilia’s other side. Last week I awoke to the sound of her soft cries and saw that Kirill was going down on her while Elyah was thrusting into her mouth. In my bed. Three o’clock in the morning has never been the sexiest time of day for me, but right then it was.

A few days later, in the small hours of the morning, I got up to get a glass of water and found Lilia pacing the corridor with her hands on her belly. She muttered that she couldn’t sleep, and then smiled and motioned me over to Kirill’s bedroom. The door was open, and Kirill and Elyah had fallen asleep together. Elyah was on his back with one arm flung out, and Kirill had his head pillowed on his bicep.

Lilia smiled at them, and whispered, “They’ve been like that for hours. Like puppies. And they both complained about living on top of each other in my apartment.”

They complained, but they weren’t really bothered. In fact, I think they loved it.

I drew her into my arms and kissed her. “With you around, all of us are closer,malyshka.”

And she kissed me back.

Without hesitation. Affectionate, but still reserved.

She has begun to tolerate me, perhaps even like me, but there’s no love in the way she touches me, and that’s starting to bother me.

Yesterday, I awoke to discover all three of them in my bed, sound asleep. I had barely six inches of mattress. I opened my mouth to snap at Elyah or Kirill that we are not a wolf litter sharing a den, but Kirill sleepily murmured into Lilia’s neck and squeezed her tight. Elyah reached out with his eyes closed to stroke her hair, breathe her in deep, and nuzzle her close.

I closed my eyes and went back to sleep. If this is what it takes for Lilia to bond with all of us, then this is what it takes. I have seen stranger; more sinister things happen in a bed.

Thanks to the last few months spent chasing Lilia back and forth across the globe, I’m behind with my work. I throw myself into what needs to be done, drinking too much coffee and vodka and not eating or sleeping enough. Two days in a row I skip my morning swim, and then it hits me.

The worst migraine I’ve had in years.

My vision refracts into stabbing white lights. Throbbing pain shoots up the back of my neck and hammers in my skull. I fumble in my desk for some of my stronger painkillers, but even as I swallow them down, I know they’re not going to be enough.

Lilia finds me in the corridor on the way to my bedroom, one of my hands braced against the wall and cold sweat covering my body. She seems to understand what’s happening as she takes me by the arm and compels me forward.

“This way. I’ve got you.”

She helps me onto the bed in the darkened room and eases my head into her lap. My cheek bumps against her belly, and if she just stopped there, I think I’d be as happy as I could be with a splitting headache.

But Lilia doesn’t stop there. She strokes my hair back and her cool fingers press against my forehead, my brow, the nape of my neck. Her touch is firm but careful, and each time she eases off, my migraine lessens a little more.

I groan in relief and pleasure as her fingers dig carefully into the ropey muscles at the back of my neck, holds them, and then releases me. “You have a magic touch. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

I remember her telling me once when I had a headache that she used to do this for her grandmother, implying she could do it for me, too, but stubbornly turning away. Telling me in no uncertain terms that I didn’t deserve her care.

But I deserve it now?

We sit in sweet, comfortable silence for a long time, her with her back against the headboard and me laying crosswise on the bed with my eyes closed. I can breathe easier now that the throbbing in my skull has eased to a dull ache.

“Tell me about someone you have loved,” she whispers.

“Your fingers,” I murmur, not opening my eyes. She has magic fingers.

“Don’t be flippant.”

I run my hands over her belly. “Our baby.”

“This little one isn’t here yet. Someone who has made you laugh. Encouraged you. Frustrated you. Enraged you.”

“Definitely you.”

“You don’t love me, Konstantin. Tell me more about yourself.”

What a strange question. I know Lilia well enough by now that she doesn’t ask idle questions. She’s hunting for something, but I don’t know what. Maybe she wants to know my softer side. Maybe she’s looking for a reason to stay.

Too bad she won’t find it like this. “No one,malyshka. You don’t love your family and I don’t love mine.”

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