Page 96 of Thorns of Love
“Fuck, you’re so cold.” His voice cracked, his hands roaming over my body, almost as if he hoped his touch would warm me up. It did. I needed it.
“You came for me,” I whispered again, while he placed soft but urgent kisses over my face. My forehead. My snotty nose. My cheeks, My ears.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Illias urged softly. “Somewhere warm.”
“Move out of the fucking way.” My brother’s voice came through. Sasha. “You’re lucky I didn't accidentally shoot you. Get your hands off my sister, you goddamn Konstantin.”
“Don’t push me, Sasha.” My husband didn’t even spare him a glance. “Or I’ll stab you by accident.”
It was affectionate bickering. Right? I could hear the pounding pulse in my ears. It was slowly easing. My body trembled. I sucked in a deep breath as I watched the scene in front of me.
Men roaming this snowy wasteland. Black SUVs surrounding us. Men with guns everywhere.
Illias’ eyes turned coal black and colder than the temperatures here, but they weren’t aimed at me. They were aimed at the two men behind me. My gaze followed his to find Nikita lying dead, blood slowly tainting the white snow. Dead eyes staring into oblivion.
And Adrian. Alive.
His green eyes locked on me and I stared at him paralyzed. He was shot in the leg, blood seeping out of his wound. And my heart ached for him. Not because I loved him as my husband or a lover anymore. My heart ached for my friend. The boy who was there almost as long as my brothers. For the man who could have had so much more but chose hate and revenge over his future.
His eyes, those dark greens watched me with so much hate that it hurt to breathe. He didn’t move. He didn’t try to fight them. He just stared at me like it was me who had betrayed him.
“Tatiana.” The plea in his voice hurt. It spoke of childhood and memories that turned sour. The thing was that he twisted it all.
Konstantin growled, kicking the gun out of his reach, then scooping me up into his arms. My feet dangled and his chest pressed against mine. “Don’t fucking talk to her. Don’t look at her. Not unless you want a long and painful death.”
Adrian’s bitter laugh filled the air. “So typical of a Konstantin. They always take what doesn’t belong to them.”
Illias stiffened. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he took a step towards, towering over Adrian’s form. “Your hate blinds you, asshole. She was never yours.”
“I’ve known her since she was a kid,” Adrian spat, shifting to his knees. “She knows me inside and out. You’ll never have that. I married her first.”
Illias’ eyes turned dark. Cruel. He trained his gun on Adrian, and I placed my palm on my husband’s chest. His gaze flickered to my face. This was the Pakhan people feared. Ruthless. Merciless. Deadly.
A shiver went through me but I wasn’t scared. No, it wasn’t that which had my insides quivering. It was my husband’s heartbeat drumming strongly under my palm. It was his warmth. How he made me feel alive.
And each time I doubted my mind, I roamed my hands over his chest. I could touch him. A mere few minutes ago, I was saying goodbye in my mind.
“Do you want me to spare him?” Illias asked.
My breath hitched and my eyes widened. Something flashed on my husband’s face, but he kept his composure. He kept a firm mask over his expression. He was giving me a choice.
He didn’t even know how much that choice meant. My gaze found Adrian. He was perfectly still, his eyes burning but not with love. They burned with the maddening need for revenge. Hate had swallowed him whole. He just used me.
Yet, I had the power to save him. To spare him.
“When did you decide to use me?” I asked him, holding his gaze. That green that used to fascinate me. The same green eyes I hoped our children would have one day. When he didn’t answer, I did it for him. “In D.C.?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “At first, I erased all traces of you from the surveillance so he–” He tilted his chin at Illias, pure hate filling those emerald eyes. “ – so he couldn’t find you. He kept searching, but came up empty.” It finally made sense why he refused to touch me for so long. I thought it was him in the gazebo. It wasn’t. He used my assumption to his advantage. “When you ran into him in the L.A. restaurant, I knew I had to move quickly. Vasili was busy with Isabella. It left you wide open.”
“Because he trusted you,” I hissed. “Itrusted you.”
He used me. Like I was nothing. Like he hadn’t known me my whole life.
As I stared at my not-so-late husband who had been seconds from pulling the trigger and killing me for something I had never been a part of, I knew my answer. Adrian knew it too. He might have been lying to us all, but he knew me well enough to recognize my decision. My choice.
On his knees, he met my gaze. Sadness lurked in his green depths. “Spare me, pipsqueak. Take me back and I can fix us.” I shook my head. He must be out of his mind if he thought I’d just look over the shit he’d done to me. “Please,” he pleaded, hope lighting up his eyes.
I scoffed. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”
