Reap (Scarred Souls 2)

Her cut voice made me look up at her beautiful face. I could see pain written all over it. And it cut me to shreds. Sighing, I stood and moved around her desk. When I reached Kisa’s side, I pushed her chair back and sat before her on the edge of her desk.

My taped-up hand ran down her soft cheek and she leaned into my palm. “I need it, solnyshko. I need to train, to fight. This was my life for so long that it’s all I really know. It’s part of me now. Here, in this gym, I feel more at peace than I do when we are with our fathers. I tried to not come here, but I couldn’t. I had to come back.”

“Lyubov moya,” she whispered sympathetically, and shuffled forward on her seat. Kisa’s hands ran up my thighs. I stared down at her and sighed.

This woman was my world. The woman God created perfectly just for me.

Kisa rubbed her lips together and cautiously informed, “I saw our fathers outside.” She didn’t add anything else, just let that information hang in the air.

I stiffened and clenched my jaw. “They saw me,” I confessed dejectedly, “they saw me sparring in the cage, saw me break a man’s nose and knock him out cold.” I glanced up at Kisa as I remembered finding my father and the Pakhan watching me ringside in shock as I towered over the man I’d forced to the ground.

“I could see their disappointment,” I said. “My father hadn’t said a word. He just watched me wipe the spattered blood off my chest before walking out of the gym. The Pakhan followed. I disappointed them, I could see it in their faces. I’m not the man they want. I shame them, Kisa.” Kisa’s hands tightened on my thighs and her head tipped to the side.

Spurred on by her touch, I said, “They don’t want this man I am now, solnyshko. They want the Luka from the past. The promise of that kid they knew years ago. They don’t want this.” I pointed to my cut knuckles and my identity tattoo. “They don’t want the fucked-up monster who can’t shake the conditioning from the gulag.”

“Luka,” Kisa whispered, and got to her feet. Her hands pushed through my hair as she stood flush to my chest. She guided me straight to her lips. Kisa’s sweet taste immediately exploded in my mouth and made me feel better. I moaned against Kisa’s mouth, and as she wrapped her arms around my waist, I pulled her further against my chest.

Kisa finally broke away then threaded her arms around my neck. Her eyes met mine. As I got lost in her blue understanding stare, I said, “I can be the knayz, Kisa, I know I can. But I have to be the heir on my terms.”

Kisa’s arms tightened and she said, “Papa and Ivan don’t want their Bratva’s inner circle to be violent.”

My jaw clenched when I thought of the Bratva set up before I returned. “Alik Durov fought in the Dungeon, in the cage. He fought our rivals and enemies on the streets. No fucker threatened the Bratva with him as knayz. And they should fear me just the same, if not more. Instead, I’m on a fucking leash. People will think me weak, Kisa. Jakhua attacks our men daily. But I’m expected to sit in an office with Kirill and my father, pushing pens and watching it all happen from behind a mahogany desk.” My muscles burned that sad truth.

Bringing my hand to my chest, I said, “I could lead our men on the streets, attack our enemies until they crawl back into the holes they slid from.” I leaned forward, my blood pumping faster just imagining it. “I could make the Volkov Bratva unrivaled, Kisa. I could make us stronger than ever. I just need that chance. I need our fathers to trust in me, in the man I am now. Violence included.”

Blood drained from Kisa’s face. She lost all color. Moving backward, she slumped back on her seat. I watched her in confusion.

“Kisa?”

“You want back in the Dungeon?” she whispered brokenly. “You want to fight like Alik did in the cage, on the streets? Even now you want that? Even now you have your life back? Now you have me. Do you still want to kill like him, too?”

I bent down, my knees hitting the floor. By the look on Kisa’s face, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. “No, baby,” I assured. I pushed her brown hair back from her face. “I fucking hated Durov. There’s not a single day that goes by that I don’t remember killing him and feeling fucking fine with it. But”—I took a deep breath and confessed—“at least he got to be who he really was.”

Kisa was motionless waiting for me to continue.

I tried to think of a way to explain myself better. Taking her hand, I said, “I don’t want to fight in the cage anymore. But I don’t know who I am without the fight, if that makes sense. I am the fight. I am death. It’s who I am. It’s who I was molded to be.”

My eyes dropped to stare at the floor when Kisa didn’t say anything in response. Why the fuck she was with me was a mystery to me. I was fucked in the head. I was irredeemable. She deserved better than me. She’d been forced to be with Alik Durov for years in my absence. And she’d hated it. He’d hurt her, made her life hell with his need for blood and violence.

I sucked in a painful breath. I wasn’t much of an improvement on that cunt. I needed those things, too. Probably just as much.

Suddenly Kisa crouched to the floor. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and I immediately sagged into her chest.

“I love you, lyubov moya. Since birth and until the end,” she whispered, pushing any self-hatred I had to the side.

I sighed as she said exactly what I needed to hear and held her tight. “I love you, too, solnyshko. Always.”

Kisa leaned back, searching my face, and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her again. I broke from her mouth and pressed my forehead against hers.

We stayed there awhile in silence until Kisa pulled back. I reached out and took hold of her wrist, suddenly remembering she’d been to the doctor this morning. I’d noticed she’d been sick and off color lately. It was worrying the hell out of me.

“How was your doctor’s appointment?” I asked.

Kisa stared at me, her blue eyes seeming to lose focus. With an abrupt squeeze of my hand in hers, she quickly smiled and said, “Just a stomach flu, baby. Nothing to worry about.”

I sighed in relief, and got to my feet. I offered her my hand, too. Sliding her palm over mine, Kisa got to her feet. I wrapped her in my arms. “I’m glad it’s nothing serious. I love you,” I whispered. “More than I know how to express.”

Kisa tensed for a brief moment, her breath hitching. Then she held me right back.

Chapter Thirteen

Zaal

They started off as images. Pictures of people and places I didn’t recognize. They began invading my dreams at night. I watched them as if I was standing on the side. People; men, women, children, both boys and girls. They were happy. They made me feel warm. There were two boys. They looked the same; same hair, same build, same face, but one had brown eyes and the other green.

I couldn’t erase their faces from my mind. But every time I thought about them really hard, red-hot pain would slice through my brain … then came other images … images of blood, of guns, of screams that tore my stomach apart. I couldn’t stand them. The screams ignited the fire in my veins, causing me to lose control. But a little girl’s screams were the worst.… She would scream and I would see two little arms reaching for me to help but something was holding me back … then the screams would stop and a pit would form in my stomach.