Reap

“Lyubov moya,” she whispered sympathetically, and shuffled forward on her seat. Kisa’s hands ran up my thighs. I stared down at her and sighed.

This woman was my world. The woman God created perfectly just for me.

Kisa rubbed her lips together and cautiously informed, “I saw our fathers outside.” She didn’t add anything else, just let that information hang in the air.

I stiffened and clenched my jaw. “They saw me,” I confessed dejectedly, “they saw me sparring in the cage, saw me break a man’s nose and knock him out cold.” I glanced up at Kisa as I remembered finding my father and the Pakhan watching me ringside in shock as I towered over the man I’d forced to the ground.

“I could see their disappointment,” I said. “My father hadn’t said a word. He just watched me wipe the spattered blood off my chest before walking out of the gym. The Pakhan followed. I disappointed them, I could see it in their faces. I’m not the man they want. I shame them, Kisa.” Kisa’s hands tightened on my thighs and her head tipped to the side.

Spurred on by her touch, I said, “They don’t want this man I am now, solnyshko. They want the Luka from the past. The promise of that kid they knew years ago. They don’t want this.” I pointed to my cut knuckles and my identity tattoo. “They don’t want the fucked-up monster who can’t shake the conditioning from the gulag.”

“Luka,” Kisa whispered, and got to her feet. Her hands pushed through my hair as she stood flush to my chest. She guided me straight to her lips. Kisa’s sweet taste immediately exploded in my mouth and made me feel better. I moaned against Kisa’s mouth, and as she wrapped her arms around my waist, I pulled her further against my chest.

Kisa finally broke away then threaded her arms around my neck. Her eyes met mine. As I got lost in her blue understanding stare, I said, “I can be the knayz, Kisa, I know I can. But I have to be the heir on my terms.”

Kisa’s arms tightened and she said, “Papa and Ivan don’t want their Bratva’s inner circle to be violent.”

My jaw clenched when I thought of the Bratva set up before I returned. “Alik Durov fought in the Dungeon, in the cage. He fought our rivals and enemies on the streets. No fucker threatened the Bratva with him as knayz. And they should fear me just the same, if not more. Instead, I’m on a fucking leash. People will think me weak, Kisa. Jakhua attacks our men daily. But I’m expected to sit in an office with Kirill and my father, pushing pens and watching it all happen from behind a mahogany desk.” My muscles burned that sad truth.

Bringing my hand to my chest, I said, “I could lead our men on the streets, attack our enemies until they crawl back into the holes they slid from.” I leaned forward, my blood pumping faster just imagining it. “I could make the Volkov Bratva unrivaled, Kisa. I could make us stronger than ever. I just need that chance. I need our fathers to trust in me, in the man I am now. Violence included.”

Blood drained from Kisa’s face. She lost all color. Moving backward, she slumped back on her seat. I watched her in confusion.

“Kisa?”

“You want back in the Dungeon?” she whispered brokenly. “You want to fight like Alik did in the cage, on the streets? Even now you want that? Even now you have your life back? Now you have me. Do you still want to kill like him, too?”

I bent down, my knees hitting the floor. By the look on Kisa’s face, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. “No, baby,” I assured. I pushed her brown hair back from her face. “I fucking hated Durov. There’s not a single day that goes by that I don’t remember killing him and feeling fucking fine with it. But”—I took a deep breath and confessed—“at least he got to be who he really was.”

Kisa was motionless waiting for me to continue.

I tried to think of a way to explain myself better. Taking her hand, I said, “I don’t want to fight in the cage anymore. But I don’t know who I am without the fight, if that makes sense. I am the fight. I am death. It’s who I am. It’s who I was molded to be.”

My eyes dropped to stare at the floor when Kisa didn’t say anything in response. Why the fuck she was with me was a mystery to me. I was fucked in the head. I was irredeemable. She deserved better than me. She’d been forced to be with Alik Durov for years in my absence. And she’d hated it. He’d hurt her, made her life hell with his need for blood and violence.

I sucked in a painful breath. I wasn’t much of an improvement on that cunt. I needed those things, too. Probably just as much.