Page 55 of Possession

When Roman emerges from the bathroom, his energy is different. His eyes are different. He’s intense. Focused.

He walks to the bed and picks up the sweats without comment. When he puts them on, I notice how low they ride on his hips, suggesting he was heavier four years ago. He must have been huge, because he’s still really big. Just lean.

Fighting lean.

As he tugs on the t-shirt, he says, “I’ll find clothes for you.”

“Can I borrow something in the meantime?”

“Of course. Anything. Just don’t leave the room.”

“Don’t leave the room?” I echo, taken aback.

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even look at me. He just turns and walks to the door and leaves, shutting me in alone.

NINETEEN

Roman

My shoulders hunch as I walk down the hallway. I would feel so much better if I could lock Lucas in that room.

I would feel better if I could stay in there myself. This house is too big. There are too many doorways and too many sounds. I can’t identify them all, and it’s putting me on edge.

I avoid the main staircase because it’s too bright and open. Instead, I take the smaller staircase that leads into Vitali’s favored wing. He was always more settled here than me. After the car wreck that killed our parents, cousin, and aunt, I never spent much time in this house.

The staircase lets out onto another hallway. I head toward Vitali’s office.

A woman steps out into the hallway.

I halt, growling at the sight of black clothes and a gun at the hip. My hands curl into fists. Hers don’t, nor does she reach for the gun. But I can see from her body language that she’s ready to act if necessary. She thinks it might be.

“Vitali’s inside,” she says in a measured tone, tilting her head toward the office.

On a certain level, I perceive the context clues. She’s a woman and therefore not one of my handlers. I’m in my family’s house and therefore not in Crowley’s warehouse or in the prison.

But none of that is able to really sink in.

All I can think is that, gun or no, I could kill her so easily. There’s no collar on me now. I should do it while I have the chance.

“Roman,” she says.

The use of my name startles me enough that my violent impulse fades. I don’t have any reason to hurt her. I don’t actually want to.

I start moving.

My body language must be acceptable because she steps to the side of the doorway and puts her back to the wall. I guess she’s going to stand guard, just in case.

I walk into Vitali’s office and find him standing in the middle of it, waiting for me. I take my first good look at my brother. I haven’t thought much about him in years. I had closed the past away inside myself. It didn’t exist for me. It couldn’t. I had to let one reality die so that I could survive the other. Facing Vitali now has those two realities colliding.

Looking at him, I almost feel like I’ve stepped into the past. I think that’s why, at first, I see what I remember instead of the changes. His sharply handsome face is straight out of my former life. The elegant style of his gray tailored pants and waistcoat almost gives me déjà vu. Most of all, the fierceness in his dark eyes reminds me how violent he is under all that refinement. He killed his man when he was sixteen. Our father required it of him.

But the longer I look, the more differences I notice. Where the sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up, I see more tattoos than I remember. I see one hooking up his neck from the collar of his shirt too. His wavy dark hair is a little longer. But it’s his eyes that are the most changed. Though the fierceness is familiar, the nature of the intensity is a little different. It’s darker. More dangerous.

All these changes are subtle, however. I can’t imagine how different I look to him. Seeing him looking at me with such shock is the very reason I’ve been avoiding looking in a mirror.

Vitali’s eyes settle briefly on my scarred wrists. His jaw tightens. Then he lifts his gaze to my face and says, “I thought you were dead.”

I was.

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