Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
She looks at me, her eyes bright with an unnatural shine. “When he called me while he was at the camp, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. Vaughn this and Vaughn that. He asked me if he was more like you, would his dad stop hating and hitting him, or would he still find fault in him anyway?”
My heart squeezes as my hands ball into fists. I hate Yaroslav with everything in me.
“I told him he’s perfect the way he is, because he is to me. Everything that’s happened in my life has been worth it because I’ve had him and Alina.” She stares at me, the weight of her eyes sharp. “And I won’t allow him to be hurt more than he already is.”
“I don’t want to hurt him either.”
“You will by just existing near him.” She lets out a sigh. “I’m not an idiot. I know he has some form of crush on you. He’s never spoken about anyone the way he spoke about you.”
My lips tremble and I purse them shut, because for another impulsive heartbeat, I contemplate begging her to let me be with him, even if just for one more moment.
“But you know that’s impossible, right? You can’t be together. I don’t know about your side, but here, he’ll be killed for being with a man. Do you want him dead, Vaughn?”
My gaze strays to him, to his peaceful expression and the bruises, and I remember the protectiveness I felt when I watched his dad beating him up.
I guess it started from there—these dangerous, reckless feelings I can’t stop.
Or maybe they started when I first met him and just continued to grow.
But I have to stop this.
Because his mom is right. This will only end badly, not only for both of us, but also for our families.
With a choked breath, I shake my head as an answer to her question. “Never.”
“Then stay away.” A tear slides down her cheek. “Take that as a sick mother’s dying wish. I just want to protect my boy. You understand, right?”
I want to say so much more, to plead with her to let me be with him for ten more minutes.
No, five is enough.
But no words come out.
With one last look at him, I nod and leave, intent on completely erasing whatever feelings have started to blossom for Yulian.
Nip them in the bud.
Kill them before they’re born.
I just refused to admit I might have abandoned my heart in that hospital room when I left.
35
YULIAN
PRESENT
Istare at Vaughn for long, endless moments after he finishes telling me what really happened four years ago.
The fact that he carried me down the mountain—definitely didn’t leave me to die in the cave, and yes, I’d believe him over Yaroslav every time, thank you very much.
The fact that he came all the way to Chicago.
He…kissed me.
Now, I want to have a strong-worded conversation with my sixteen-year-old self and kick him in the ass for not waking up and witnessing the glorious moment when Vaughn kissed me.
It’s just not fair that he was awake when I kissed him, but I wasn’t when he kissed me.
Can I get a redo? Like right now, please.
I cough and it’s like someone’s jammed a knife under my skin. I’m panting for breath as my ribs throb. My hand rests on my messed-up left side, over the bandages covering the gashes—a constant reminder that I’m basically wrapped like a mummy.
“Lie down.” Vaughn helps me onto my back, and he looks devastatingly radiant through my eyes—well, my right one, because the other one is half swollen shut, and the room tilts if I look at anything too fast. I move slowly, not because I want to, but because my body’s in open rebellion and is being an uncooperative little shit.
“Better?” Vaughn’s watching me carefully, as if I’ll drop dead if I so much as sneeze wrong. Okay, fine, maybe he’s right.
“Mmm,” I say to preserve energy. Talking too much leaves me winded, which is deeply insulting—me, out of breath? Please. The audacity.
Also, my split lip makes every word taste faintly of iron, so I better not get too liberal with words.
Vaughn stands by my side, looking mouthwatering in simple black pants and a white shirt, its sleeves rolled, and the first few buttons undone, revealing the lines of his collarbone. But then again, he’s always looked so prettily put together. Although his hair is a bit haphazard, finger-raked, and pointing in different directions.
“What do you want to eat? I’ll go get it from the kitchen.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather you keep telling me about the past.”
“You have to eat first.”
I grumble, but Vaughn being Vaughn—completely inflexible about these sorts of things—leaves and comes back with a tray of food, mostly blended soups and oatmeal and a local type of broth.
He helps me eat, actually feeding me at one point. Vaughn has always been…a rock. No, a fortress.