like a wild pet? Here is Ms Falcone, our resident enucleation expert. Watch out or she’ll take your eyes, too.
Maybe I’ll take yours, Konstantin. I drilled my eyes into the side of his head like I was sending my threat telepathically.
His eyes slid to me briefly, brows rising ever so slightly, before he looked back to the biker President. “Condolences for your loss, Hatchet,” he said.
“I don’t want your condolences, Tarkhanov,” retorted the biker. “I want revenge.”
This time, Konstantin did smile. There was nothing charming about it; it was pure animalistic understanding. One alpha to another.
“And you shall have it,” he assured. “A gift from me to you.”
Hatchet grinned, teeth flashing through his beard like fangs of a wolf. “See, boys?” He looked back to his men. “That’s a good fucking gift.”
Faint chuckles rang throughout the bikers.
“I’ll give you one, too, Tarkhanov,” Hatchet said. “We’ve heard rumors that an Italian kingpin in Maine has set his sights on New York.”
Interest flashed in Konstantin’s eyes. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been looking for it. “You seem to hear a lot of rumors, Hatchet,” he said.
“I ride with the wind, and she carries many secrets with her,” the President replied.
“So, it seems,” Konstantin remarked. He bowed his head to the biker, “Until next time.”
Konstantin didn’t turn his back to the bikers until they were out of sight, their engines roaring in the growing dawn. We headed back to the plane when it grew silent.
Slowly, Konstantin’s men came back to us, standing protectively as Konstantin walked to the plane.
“After you,” he murmured.
As I ascended into the plane, I felt Konstantin behind me. His presence followed me up, his stare burning into my backside. Shivers skidded down my neck and spine. I almost tripped on the stairs.
The word wanton formed in my mind.
The dim lamp illuminated the stacks of books in front of me, shadows dancing in the corners and crevices. The only sounds were the whistles of the wind and rub of novel covers.
Alone. Quiet.
Just how I liked it.
For days now, I had been making my way through the library. I had categorized and logged until the alphabet was constantly repeating in my mind. Sorted by genre and surnames, this library was slowly becoming my greatest achievement. In my humble opinion, it could rival the Bodleian.
Soft footfalls caused me to turn my head to the side. “Danika?”
“Not Danika.” Konstantin stepped out from the bookshelves, shadows dancing over his features as he prowled towards me.
I sat up straighter. “What are you doing here?”
He crouched down, his blazing eyes rooting me in place. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why.” It wasn’t a question, more like a demand.
I looked back down to the books. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“Liar.”
The growl of his tone made me look back up. “I’ve been busy, Konstantin,” I said matter-of-factly. “I’ve been trying to help Tatiana and sort out this library.”
His eyebrow rose. “Is that so? Tatiana is better; the library—” He gestured an arm around the room. “Is almost complete.”
“Those tasks happened because I was avoiding you,” I mocked. “And Tatiana is not better.”
“Funny. I would’ve thought you’d have taken the first chance to declare Tatiana as healthy as a horse and made a run for it.” He assessed me.
I didn’t like looking into his eyes. I was afraid he might see something I didn’t want him to.
“I don’t leave work unfinished.”
There was a flicker of knowing in his expression. “No, you do not,” he agreed. “Speaking of Tatiana, Dmitri wants to know if she is better yet.”
Do not reveal anything. “I haven’t found the underlying cause for her illness.” Do not reveal anything. “Her good health right now is temporary.” Do not reveal anything. “I’ll let both you and Dmitri know when I find it out.”
Konstantin inclined his head but did not rise to leave. His eyes caught my hand suddenly, the depths of them darkening hungrily. “Wanton,” he read.
I resisted the urge to hide my hand. It would only make me look guilty.
“It’s a word,” I snapped. “It is defined as being sexually unrestrained or having many casual relationships. Of which I am neither.”
A grin stretched over his face. “Why did you write that word on yourself then?”
Because of you. The words grew up my throat, ready to burst out. But I couldn’t. There were too many tangles and snares, too many consequences.
If he had you, he would never let you go, Elena, I warned myself. Men like Konstantin do not let their women go.
I shifted my hair