He kissed her forehead then she was gone, trailing after her mother like a dutiful girl.
* * *
Konstantin always forgot how quiet it could be away from the fast pace of the city, and even the bustle of the village’s main streets. The only place he got solitude was at home. Even though he’d been alone in the house for a year, it hadn’t taken long for him to get used to sharing his space with Varushka. She was so much fun—for lack of a better word. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought of life as fun. The term implied lightheartedness and childish pursuits, neither of which had featured in his life since his parents’ car accident.
When he lost them, he’d assumed his adult role and never looked back. There had been no one but Banner and Ambrose to pick him up and dust him off if he fell in life, but they were his age.
He walked around the Gribkov’s swimming hole, amazed he’d ever set foot in it as a child. It was still idyllic, in a rural way, but after all the beaches and pools he’d been to in his life, the tea-colored water wasn’t as much of a draw.
There was an otherworldliness to the place though. The way the dappled light slanted through the trees, the flit and song of birds, and the zing of insects, all worked together to bring his memory back to summers in Nasva as a child. His parents hadn’t been wealthy, but they’d scrimped to send him to Baba’s for a month every summer so that he didn’t forget his roots. He’d hated coming, but he’d hated leaving even more.
The boys he used to play with had all moved away to bigger places like Moscow and Saint Petersburg, not interested in staying on their families’ small farms. Little girls like Varushka would have been at the time, hadn’t been on their radar. By the time she would have been interesting to him, he’d stopped coming.
What would it have been like to meet her back then? It wasn’t hard to imagine her younger, tagging after him and his friends as they climbed trees and built forts, her hair in braids, her freckles dark the summer sun. Maybe she would have been the first girl he kissed—although there was enough of an age difference that it wasn’t a practical fantasy.
Even now she made him feel like a dirty old man sometimes. She was so fresh and carefree that the darkness within him was automatically drawn to her, as though she had the potential to save him from himself.
Konstantin sprawled out in the grass under a tree near the edge of the pond, listening to the grass rustle in the wind. It was one of those days that wasn’t particularly warm or cold, where he could just be and not worry about whether he was comfortable.
As he started to doze, he wondered if she’d be able to get away from her parents’ house tonight.
It was ridiculous, really. After everything they’d done together, it wasn’t being cut off from sex that bothered him. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her pretty face—to hear her talk and laugh. They weren’t children anymore, but the attempted rendezvous felt clandestine. He’d never had to do this as a teenager. By the time he’d gotten girl crazy he hadn’t had parents to hold him back.
If she didn’t show by nightfall he’d go back to Baba’s. In a fit of nostalgia, he’d thrown his phone in his carry-on bag and left it behind. It would be nice to just sit with Varushka and talk without work distractions every five minutes. His people were clever, but they often didn’t trust themselves to think like he did. He tended to approach problems sideways rather than head-on. Doing things head-on was an American trait he’d never mastered, but his own style seemed to work with most people.
Eventuall
y, hypnotized by the sound of the wind-stirred grasses, he was lulled to sleep.
He woke to a pretty laugh that made him think he was having a dream.
“A vodyanoy washed up on the beach?” Varushka was biting her lips together, her eyes twinkling.
“Do I look like an ugly green merman?”
She fell to her knees and clasped her hands together in supplication. “Please vodyanoy, don’t drag me to the bottom of the pond and keep me as your slave!”
Konstantin took stock of her expression. Her tone was teasing, but there was more there, hiding underneath her glib words. There was desire and desperation.
“You shouldn’t tease me,” he warned. “I thought you didn’t want to fool around while we were in Russia.”
“I changed my mind.” Her impish smile made him grin back at her like a fool. “A lack of orgasms disagrees with me.”
“You saved all the work for me?”
“You didn’t tell me I was allowed to . . . uh . . .”
If she hadn’t gotten off in days, either, this was going to be fast. He didn’t even bring a damn condom, so they’d have to do oral or something.
“Your last sacrifice to me wasn’t very pleasing, girl. Maybe I will drag you to the bottom of the pond and make you my slave.” He looked at her with appraisal. “Perhaps your body will serve me better than your generosity has.”
Her neck mottled pink and she licked her bottom lip nervously. “No, please,” she begged. Shifting nearer on her knees, her eyes shining, she looked ready for anything he suggested. He would have liked to lie around with her and talk, but it seemed like she wanted to play a game instead. Far be it from him to turn down an opportunity like that.
“You knew what the penalty could be if you didn’t pay me enough respect. I have no sympathy for you now. Strip off your clothes. You won’t need them where we’re going.”
“My clothes?” she whispered, putting a hand against the neckline of her dress.
“Yes. Sex slaves don’t need clothes. I’ll keep you chained and naked, and desperate for my cock.”