Reap

Page 31

I wrapped my hand over his fingers, and replied, “A smile.”
“A … smi … le…” He sounded out the word as he moved closer to my lips. The task of breathing became difficult as he stood a mere hairsbreadth away. His head leaned in closer, and for a moment, I thought he would kiss me. Instead he drew back and pressed his fingers to his own lips.
Finding my stolen voice, I asked, “Do you smile, Zaal?”
He paused, then shook his head. His expression changed from confused to enquiring. He asked, “Why do you smile?”
My heart beat at double speed. “When something makes you happy. When you feel happy.”
“Happy…,” he whispered. Then he took the hooded sweatshirt from my hands. “You were happy giving me this?” He looked down at the sweatshirt, clearly with interest.
Not wanting Zaal to think that I was laughing at his naivety, I took the sweatshirt, held it out for him to slip on, threaded it over his arms and, moving to his front, zipped it up. He still awaited my answer, so I replied, “I am happy that you’re finally free.”
Zaal paused, then lifted his hand. He ran it through my hair. “Your hair is soft,” he observed.
Perplexed by the sudden change in conversation, I responded by running my hair over the ends of his long jet black hair, and said, “Now so is yours.”
He followed my fingers through his almost-dry hair. His eyes met mine, and he asked, “You took care of me?”
I swallowed as my throat felt too full with such attraction for this man. “Yes,” I whispered, “I took care of you.”
His head dipped again and his finger ran down my cheek. His finger continued south, over my breasts, my nipples aching under his touch. Then his finger tapped over my heart, before moving to tap over his. “Because … you are … for me.”
Time stopped as he said those words again. Though on this occasion, they weren’t a question. To him, I could tell it was fact. In his eyes, I was his, I was for him.
“Let’s go to the beach,” I announced, unable to earth the electricity crackling between us. His eyes widened, but before I gave him a chance to resist, I guided him out of the room and down the stairs.
As we turned the corner into the living room, Savin and Ilya were standing in the center. Zaal tensed. I turned around and, standing on my tiptoes, pressed my hand to his cheek. “They are here to protect you, not cage you.”
Zaal’s eyes narrowed as they focused on my byki, but he wanted to trust me. I could see that Zaal was placing his trust in me.
Zaal, this time, took my hand. My heart bloomed as I cast him a smile. I heard his breathing hitch, so I smiled even wider.
I tried to lead us past Savin and Ilya, but Savin stepped forward. “Miss, a word, please?”
I stared at Savin, his dark gaze was stern. “What, Savin?”
His eyes flicked to Zaal then to me. “In private, please.”
“It can wait, Sav,” I replied, then he said, “does the knayz know you’re doing this?”
I stiffened. Anger and a hint of guilt built in my stomach. “He’s in Brooklyn, summoned by the Pakhan. He doesn’t need the hassle. He has enough to deal with.”
Savin nodded, his mouth tight. He knew that I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I continued without hesitation. “He wants this situation made right.” I glanced back to Zaal, who had moved closer to my back, a protective gesture. “I’m helping to make it right,” I concluded.
Zaal followed me to the back door, and his breath blew faster. I didn’t look back. I just opened the door, the winter wind off the ocean lashing at my face.
Zaal’s hand tightened in mine, but I stepped through taking him with me. The wind whistled loudly, but at least the sun shone bright. I stopped and Zaal stepped beside me. His eyes squinted at the sun. The look on his face as he scanned our private beach was like seeing someone coming home after the longest time. To me, it was the look of freedom.
“Do you want to walk farther?” I asked. Zaal looked at me, nerves played across his dark features, but he nodded.
I glanced down at his bare feet. I worried that he’d be cold, but he didn’t seem to feel the winter chill. I didn’t think anything, not even a damn hurricane, would register with him at this moment.
“I’ll show you the ocean,” I offered. We walked past the swimming pool and onto our private wooden walkway. The air was filled with the sound of waves crashing onto the sand. Zaal kept pace behind me. His breathing was erratic, and his muscles were tense. He flinched at the bright light, but I had a feeling nothing was going to stop him from reaching the beach.
When we reached the end of the dock, I turned to Zaal and dropped my hand. A panicked look swept over his face. I ignored it and kept going.
I shouted, “Have you ever seen sand before?”
I pointed at the smooth beige sand. As I expected, Zaal shook his head. I smiled. It got his attention. “One of the best feelings in the world is to walk on sand.”
Zaal stared down at the sand, studying it closely. I rubbed my hand down his arm. “Go,” I said, “feel the sand. Meet the ocean.”
Zaal was understandably apprehensive. His face paled slightly, but as I nudged my chin encouragingly in the direction of the beach, he stepped out.
As soon as his large feet sank into the sand, a gasp escaped his mouth. His toes wiggled, and he bent down to scoop the sand up in his hands. He remained crouched, hands buried under the soft sand for a good while.
A tidal wave of emotion washed over me, stealing my every breath. My hand clutched my chest and my eyes stung.
I, Talia Tolstaia, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of a Bratva boss of New York, was getting emotional for a Kostava. A Kostava who had no idea who the hell he was.
Legs feeling weak, I dropped down to sit on the edge of the wooden dock, wrapping my arms around my waist.
Zaal had his head bowed, a statue on the sand. I tasted salt on my lips, from the spray of the sea.
Zaal lifted his head. His eyes were closed. The sun kissed his face. I too felt the sun on my skin as though I was attracting its rays. I felt as though I was feeling it for the first time with him—the warmth. I was feeling the wind wrap around my hair. I was right here in the moment.
I sighed and Zaal opened his eyes. Those pearls of green fell upon me. Zaal stood slowly, and bowed his head at me. I smiled through trembling lips and though no smile pulled on his lips, it was shining from his eyes.
Zaal turned. His huge body, sculpted from vast muscles, his long black hair wild and free, slowly made his way to the endless rush of the waves.
I wrapped my arms around bent legs and rested my cheek on my knee. Zaal was walking to the tide. When he met the sea foam, I watched it pass over his feet. From here, I couldn’t hear him or see his face, but I could see his shoulders relax. Then he knelt down and pushed his hand into the salty ocean. It would be freezing at this time of year, but he didn’t even flinch.
Like he did with the sand, he stayed awhile touching the water, as if in prayer. Over fifteen minutes passed by. The entire time I simply watched him in silence.
Suddenly, Zaal stood and deeply exhaled. When he turned to face me, his green eyes were bright; my heart ceased to function.
He was smiling. It was small, it was faint, but it was there.
And in that moment I knew—I was losing my heart to the object of my family’s deepest hatred.