Page 49 of Viripotent

I’ve seen that same look at Steorra. Children who have only ever experienced cruelty and need to lash out at the world because they’re in pain. There was a thirteen-year-old boy who came when we first opened the doors, his mother and stepfather had beaten him for years, and he had that same look in his eyes.

The chair hits the concrete from how quickly I stand, and Vlad’s attention comes to me. Dima shouts attempting to get it back on him.

“Vlad! Look at me, that’s your wife.”

I’m not afraid of him. It’s stupid when my throat still hurts, but I want to hug him and make him feel better. My voice comes out strong as I get Dima to shut the fuck up.

“Exactly, so don’t get involved in a marriage.”

Whoever the latest dead guy is, did something that the devil viewed as unforgivable, and I don’t need any other information to agree. Taking steady steps towards him, I keep my palms open so he can see I’m not holding a weapon.

Emotion chokes me as my mind draws comparisons to what I’ve seen, and I wrap my arms around his middle needing it to ground myself. He freezes and Dima grumbles to himself, “It’s your funeral.”

Vlad doesn’t move, he remains a statue as I press myself harder against his bloody chest, it sticks to my hair, my ear, my cheek, but I don’t stop. It happens slowly, the tension in his body doesn’t leave as bloody hands comb through my hair. My head is pulled back until I’m staring into blank blue. Blinking back into reality, he blows out a long breath and the door behind us clangs as Dima leaves.

Vlad gently traces my features with his thumbs, his palms flat above my ears, adding more blood to my hair. He doesn’t say anything, he stares into my eyes then looks at each one individually as he taps each point of my face three times. Our breathing syncs as calmness settles between us. His voice is too quiet when he finally speaks, and I smile, feeling like he’s letting me in.

“I got blood on you.”

Shrugging, I keep my voice low enjoying our truce.

“I bleed once a month, I’m already built for it.”

His arms come around me as his chest shakes, it’s nice in an extremely disturbing way.

Reluctantly loosening my arms, he tightens his around me and I act like a moron staring up at him. There’s no heat to his insult, but I glare back.

“You’re really weird under the fake bitch attitude.”

I’m used to Misha calling me out on my ever-changing persona and point out the obvious.

“Says the man who looks like he’s just fought his way out of hell?”

There’s a brief moment where his eyes darken again but he quickly blinks it away.

Pulling me closer, he leans his sticky forehead on mine, and I could happily sink into the depth of his eyes without any complaint. His voice adds to the intimacy, the low tenor filled with depth as he speaks slowly.

“Heaven may be above us, as something to strive for. But hell is linear, it’s all around us. We don’t fight out of it, we fight through it, meely moy.”

The possessiveness in the endearment has me nodding my head without taking in any information.

He keeps one arm around me as he moves us away from the blood and walks over to a sink set up in the corner to wipe theDNA from his face. This Vlad is softer, all his aggression has left, and he’s someone I want to spend more time with. That’s a lie, he’s someone I want to spend all my time with, and I don’t move away as he gets dressed. Taking my hand when he’s ready to leave, he looks at my dress covered in blood and smiles at it.

There’s no tapping as he walks, and it doesn’t come when he’s driving. For the first time, I’m witnessing what he’s like when he’s relaxed. It’s that simple thing that has my mouth opening, giving him what he asked for and confiding my biggest secret.

“I’m still a virgin, but he used to sneak in my room. My parents would leave me anywhere they could, and he’d always be there.”

He doesn’t look at me, but his shoulders twitch and I stare at the road.

Rolling to a stop, Vlad turns to me with the murder coming back in his eyes and I hate it. My jaw locks, knowing I can’t let more out with the relaxed ease being sent away. I ignore his reflection as I stare out of my window, and act like I didn’t say anything. My belt is unbuckled, and I hate him for what he’s about to do. I’ll walk this time. My mind is prepared as I’m pulled over the center console and the seat screeches with being pushed back.

The door doesn’t open, and my throat tightens as he positions me on his thigh. He presses a button under the steering wheel and all the lights cut out, allowing me to breathe. It feels like I’m alone and he doesn’t touch me other than his arm around my back and my shoulder brushing his chest. A coaxing whisper breaks the silence.

“Say everything out loud, no one can hear.”

It’s like he’s in my head and it all rushes out.

“I was ten, and he’d been drinking rum, I still can’t stand the smell of it. He didn’t touch me at first or ever make me touch him.”

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