Page 32 of The Harbinger
“Accusations.” My shirt hiked around my waist, and he slid his hand against my bare skin. “They all have consequences, Mia.”
I sucked in my stomach, pulling away from his warming touch. My heart skipped inside my chest as his hand slipped further between my belly and the wall. My lips pressed tight, and I closed my eyes.
“Don’t they?”
His nails scraped against my belly as he pulled away and turned on his heel. Sacha moved faster than I could process, his path along my stomach seared into my flesh.
In a flash, Sacha held Yergi by the throat, his eyes bulging as Sacha raised a fist.
Time sat still as though hours had passed by, my heart frozen in time. Sacha’s eyes narrowed. Where was the anger, malice, or spite? He stood like an empty shell, about to stuff his fist into a man’s face. And for what? I thought he was on Yergi’s side?
“Wait.” Our dangerous world rushed back to beating hearts and singing birds as I held my hands out. “Don’t hurt him. It wasn’t his fault. I startled him.”
“But he assaulted you, remember? My men don’t get away with that.”
I walked around him and balled my hand over his fist. “It was a misunderstanding—a mistake. I didn’t mean it.”
My stomach knotted. I’d never feel good about myself if he hurt him, even if he did put his hands on me without a care in the world.
He released Yergi, and both Yergi and I walked in opposite directions with desperate exhales as if I’d held my breath along with him, then ran my hand down my face.
Crisis averted.
They spoke in hushed tones, Sacha patting him on the shoulder as if giving him a job-well-done speech.
“Back to the house. Now.”
I swallowed the words down my tightening throat, glancing at Yergi, who rubbed his throat as he stood next to the horses I still wanted to stroke. I hung my head and shuffled onto the path toward the house. “You shouldn’t have done that to him.”
We passed the lilacs as the silence congealed into coagulated tension, his need to explain whatever happened out there non-existent.
Sacha opened the door to the back entrance, holding it open for me to slip in, but not without brushing against his hard chest, his belt buckle cooling my arm in my brief pass.
My stomach twisted as my feet moved with purpose towards the stairs, but clipped, angry tones erupted from the front door before I could step onto the winding staircase.
I turned in their direction against my gut’s protests. Sacha sliced an arm in my path. “Go to your room, and stay there.”
He dropped his hand, casting me a sideways glance as he walked away, his fist clenched tight beside him.
Once he rounded the corner, I pattered after him, winding my way around the demon statue, then peeked around the corner. Even though they’d spoken a language I didn’t understand, it didn’t stop my curiosity.
Four men stood at the door. Ivan, my tormentor, along with Vlad, Dmitri, and another man whose name I hadn’t learned. Each one turned their attention to their intimidating boss as he approached, their conversation ceasing.
“Chto vsyo eto znachit?”Sacha’s lowered tone hummed into the stairwell, sending shivers down my spine.
“Antonia.”
Ivan’s fists clenched by his sides, and a look that spun a dark tale furrowed his thick brows.
What were they saying, and who is Antonia?
Ivan’s gaze found me, and my stomach sunk like a ten-ton boulder. I jerked behind the wall and rushed up the stairs and to my room on my tiptoes, glancing back every few steps.
The door closed with a soft snick, and I bolted into the bathroom, closing that one behind me as if Sacha didn’t know how to open a door.
My heart thundered, my hand trembling not from the adrenaline poisoning my blood but from the secondary hunger which brought me no sustenance, only an illusionary escape.
Closing my eyes, I exhaled through my closed lips, puffing my cheeks, as I held down my shaking hand against my stomach with my other hand. If I didn’t get something soon, the withdrawals would take me by force, ravaging my body until it wrung me dry.