Page 115 of Scarlet Secrets

“I’ve already spoken to him.”

“Did you apologize?”

“He knows I’m sorry; he knows I didn’t mean it.”

“But you did.” I put the lid back on the cream. It’s unscented, which I like. I don’t like layers and layers of competing scents vying for attention.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Demyan sits on the end of the bed near me.

“But you meant it. You came in spitting all kinds of fire, like you’re the king and we’re nothing and you can’t—you can’t do that.” I stop and open my eyes, smoothing an imaginary line on my calf. “I guess you can, since you have a lot of power. But actions have consequences and Sasha’s got a male role model?—”

“Ilya.”

I consider it. “He loves Ilya because Ilya’s fun and would let him get away with anything. They’re… buddies. He calls himself uncle and that’s for you. Ilya sees himself as family and I think you do, too. But no, I don’t mean Ilya.”

“Then—”

“You’re not dense, Demyan,” I snap. “You. And Sasha’s gone from being frightened by you to looking up to you. He’s two, he doesn’t get it; how you live isn’t how the rest of us do.”

“I’d never hurt him.” The pain is real and it hurts my heart to hear it.

But for Sasha, I push on.

“If I thought for one moment you’d hurt him, actually hurt him, I’d fight you and all your deadly men and win. I’d get him out of here. I wouldn’t care if I died. As long as I got Sasha somewhere safe and far from you. If I thought that. As it is, you’re on thin ice, Demyan.”

“You can’t take my son.”

The pain is stronger, savage, and it rips a hole in me.

“You, as his role model, as his father, have the power to shape him. I get your father did a lot of damage, but you can’t instill violence in Sasha. You can’t teach him to hate and hurt. I won’t let you.”

“I wouldn’t.”

The room is suddenly too small. I want to believe him. I get up, not sure where I’m going, but he clamps a hand around my wrist. His hold is firm but not painful, almost like he’s being very, very careful. And he tugs me to him.

I let him.

He draws me in so I’m between his legs.

“Erin, look at me.”

I shake my head, eyes burning hot, my throat closed up. And I turn from him.

Demyan lets me go and he rises, his knuckles running down my spine, making me shiver.

Then his head touches my back and he sighs, his breath hot through the cotton.

But Demyan doesn’t try anything, except sit.

And I can’t help myself. I turn to him and he’s sitting again, looking up at me and the expression there makes my heart race.

His gaze is so naked I can see blood and bone. “Erin, the truth is I have a temper handcrafted by my father. But I’d never… I’d never treat Sasha like that. I’d never hurt you or him. Just like I’d never hurt Alina.”

He swallows, but I wait.

“God fucking knows I should hate her, resent her. My father held her up as the most precious thing. I was the boy who could do no right and she was the girl who could do no wrong, but I fucking love her. And she’s sweet, innocent, and doesn’t deserve this. She deserved the happiness a man like Max would have given her. I don’t know how to make it better. I’ll get who did it, mark my words, but after? What do I do?”

“Be there. Love her.”

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