Reap

Talia liked my hair smooth.

“She’s inside,” Luka said, and walked up some stairs. He glanced back, and taking a deep breath, I walked behind him.

Luka opened the door and walked toward a room. I could hear voices and, with each step, my heart beat faster and faster.

I was a Kostava in a Tolstoi house.

I was hated.

My father had killed Talia’s dedushka.

They had cause to hate me. I should not be here.

Luka walked into the room first. I heard relieved voices rushing to greet him. I remained behind the wall.

I had no family.

I did not know how it was to be in a family. I did not know how to act around people.

The room then went quiet. Luka came back into the hallway. “Come,” he said, and walked back into the room.

Inhaling through my nose, I stepped forward and rounded the corner.

I stopped in the entranceway. Every face looked my way. My gaze fell on two men standing at the back of the room, one who bore a strong resemblance to Luka.

Ivan Tolstoi, I thought.

Luka’s wife was there, wrapped in his arms. An older woman was there staring at me, a curious look on her face.

My pulse thundered as they all watched me in silence.

Then I heard a gasp from behind me. My muscles tensed as light footsteps approached. I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I exhaled, and turned. I saw the golden hair first, then a set of brown eyes.

Talia.

A cry of relief sounded from her mouth as she entered the room and moved before me. Her trembling hand covered her lips as tears ran down her cheeks.

She looked at me as if I were not real. Then, on a sigh, she ran forward and jumped into my arms. “Zaal,” she cried, and wrapped her arms around my neck.

Holding her in my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist, I crushed her to my chest. “Talia,” I whispered back, and tucked my nose into her neck.

I held her tightly.

I never ever wanted to let go.

She was mine.

I was hers.

We were each other’s.

Talia pulled back, and crushed her mouth against mine. As our lips connected, my soul filled with her kiss. Always full for Talia.

Her hands pushed into my hair and she broke away. “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes dropping to my chest and arms.

“He did not drug me,” I assured. More tears ran down Talia’s cheeks.

“Are you okay?” I asked remembering her chained up and hurt on the wall.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Lifting my hand to her face, I pressed my forehead to hers and whispered, “You are … for me.”

Talia smiled. “I am … for you,” she whispered back, and wrapped me in her arms once again.

I would have held her forever, but someone coughed from behind us. Talia tensed in my arms. Slowly she pulled back and my pulse spiked when I saw the fear in her eyes.

Talia released herself from my arms and slid gently to the floor. Threading her hand through mine, she led me forward, straight to the two men in dark suits. Dark suits like Jakhua used to wear.

“Papa, Pakhan,” Talia said quietly, “this is Zaal.” She swallowed and added, “Zaal Kostava. My love.”

Both men stared at me. The room was silent and thick with tension. Talia reached out her free hand and took the arm of the man with longer hair, the one that looked like Luka. “Papa,” she said confidently, “I love him. I love him with my whole heart. I know you may not approve, and if you don’t it won’t change a thing. I love you, you know this. But I am head over heels in love with this man, and I want you to accept him as my other half.”

Talia’s father watched me as his daughter spoke. I was so proud, so floored at how Talia bravely fought for our love, but could also see the hatred for me in his dark stare. Talia curled herself back into my arms as her father’s cold expression spoke volumes.

“Papa,” Luka said from behind. I turned and met Luka’s eyes. I shook my head, telling him without words not to defend me, and Luka quieted. Talia stepped to the side.

Turning back to the Volkov Pakhan and Ivan Tolstoi, I stepped forward and laid my hand on my chest. “I am Zaal Kostava. I am the son of Iakob Kostava, the man who murdered your father.”

Ivan’s face hardened.

“But I am not my father,” I stressed. “I was not raised in that life. I was taken as a child, like Luka, and forced under Jakhua’s control.” I breathed in a long breath, and looked to Talia. “I am in love with Talia. I wish to stay, with Talia.”

Talia’s hand reached out for mine and I took it briefly. I then let go to fix my gaze back on Ivan. His face was unreadable. Then I remembered something from my childhood. Something I had seen men do to my papa in his office.