My Russian Nightmare

by Danielle Sibarium

  I bite into it and let the warmth and sweet flavor bombard my senses. I do like it, but there’s something more, something familiar. The taste fills my chest with longing. Smells from my childhood tickle my memory. Nothing I can make out for sure, but scents I want to smell again. Smells that bring me right back to the kitchen of my parents’ diner and the friend I’ve missed for all these years. The friend no one ever let me speak about after he left.

  The bowl slips from my grasp and falls onto the bed. Luckily nothing spills out. I can’t take my eyes off the man sitting in front of me. Is this him? Could it be? Is that why I long for him while knowing I should run from him instead? It’s the only thing that would make sense. But then why wouldn’t he tell me?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “How did you know I’d like it?”

  “Good guess,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks away.

  “No. You said it like you knew for a fact that I liked it. You wouldn’t know that unless…”

  “Unless what?” he asks, leaning forward. His eyes study my every move with increased intensity. It’s like he’s looking for something. But what?

  I shift gears. I want this man to be the little boy that looked after me and kept me safe. I want so badly to believe there is something good in him that I’m willing to forget for moments at a time what has brought us to this place together.

  “You know so much about me, it doesn’t seem fair that I know nothing about you.”

  “You know everything you need to.”

  “Doubt it.” I bite my lip, wondering how I could find out for sure. “If I ask questions, will you answer?”

  He stiffens. Like someone just inserted a steel rod in his back. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are unreadable. An awkward silence creeps up between us. I’ve felt many confusing emotions around him – fear, longing – but this is the first time I’ve felt awkward.

  “You should know,” he narrows his eyes at me and then drops them down to his food. “There are some questions you don’t want answered.”

  Does he know what I’m thinking? “Like?”

  “Just make sure you’re ready to hear things that might upset you before you ask the question.”

  I nod. “You’re not like the others. How did you get involved with these animals?”

  “I didn’t have a choice. It’s sort of the family business,” he answers matter-of-fact.

  “You’re related to them?”

  “In a way. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I’m just as hateful and disgusting as them?”

  I don’t understand where this attitude is coming from. He has to know I have more questions, and he was so forthcoming earlier. Why does it feel like I’m treading on thin ice now?

  “No. You’re not.”

  “I am. I do bad shit to people that may or may not deserve it. Only unlike them, I have a conscience. A soul. They get off on hurting people. I don’t. I don’t get any pleasure in seeing people hurt. Especially not people I care about.” His eyes are locked on mine, and I have a feeling he’s telling me a lot more than those words express.

  “If they’re family, can’t you say no?”

  He snickers, but not like I said something funny, more like he’s annoyed I’m not understanding his point. “No. I’m trapped like a snake in a glass tank. I can coil and prepare to attack, but when I strike, all I do is throw myself against the glass. It does nothing but wear me down and has no effect on the situation.”

  “Then there’s no way out for me, is there?”

  He glares at me, anger flaring in his eyes. My heart slams down into my tumbling stomach, both out of fear and disappointment.

  “Honestly,” he takes a deep breath, his cold, angry eyes locked on mine. “I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell.”

  I can’t take the intensity of his stare. It’s weighing on me physically and I don’t understand why.

  “Does that give you the reassurance you’re looking for?” Again with the attitude. His words are swathed with the same ice coating his eyes hold. I don’t understand where it came from or why.

  Leaning forward with my arms wrapped around myself for comfort, I shake my head. “No. But I need to know, to be prepared.”

  Nothing. No response. He won’t even look at me. I sit my half-eaten bowl of dumplings down on the night table next to the bed.

  “Look, I told you to trust me and give me some time. It’s not just your ass I’m trying to save here.”

  I nod even as I’m struck by a pang of jealousy. I wonder who else there is. Another girl? Many others? Someone he loves?

  “Are you trying to save someone you’re in love with?”

  He nods, but won’t look at me.

  Tears prick my eyes, filling them with water. I won’t cry. I won’t let him see how much his admission crushed me, sucking the hope right out of my heart and lungs. I take a few deep breaths to settle myself.

  “Does she love you?”

  “I’m not discussing this with you.”

  “Oh.” I search my mind for something else to ask. Something safe. Anything that’s not going to further break my shattered heart. “How old are you?”

  “I thought you realized asking questions isn’t going to help.”

  I shrug. “I just asked your age. It’s nothing you need to get upset about.” I throw the same attitude back at him. “Besides, I need a distraction. And I’m curious. About you.”

  My voice drops lower with each clarification. I’m nervous and unsure of myself. Not only because of the plans laid out for me, but because even now dark and angry and knowing there is someone in his heart, I feel something for him. Something stronger than logic or my own will. It’s something that scares me down to the marrow of my bones because it doesn’t make sense, and I don’t know if I can fight it. Either way, I do know it’s something I can’t tamp down and pretend doesn’t exist.

  “Don’t be.” He gets to his feet and goes into the other room.

  I think about staying where I am, but I can’t. I need to go to him, be near him. It’s the only way I can keep my head on straight, keep my frayed nerves from trembling.

  “Why are you acting like this? Ten minutes ago, it seemed like you cared about what might happen to me, and now you’re being an obnoxious ass. It’s almost like you’re trying to push me away.”

  “Maybe I am.” Again, his loud voice booms in the cramped space. My heart shudders.

  “Why? Do you feel guilty about that moment we shared before? She’ll never know about it.”

  “Know what? That I want you? That I’m borderline obsessed with you? She already knows. And you know what, Kiera? I’m not the only one. Ivan, he’s obsessed with you, too. Has been for years. And now so is Yuri.” I shrink back, afraid of the implications. “We all fantasize about you. We all want to see something in your eyes when you look at us. They want to see fear and desperation.”

  I swallow hard, stunned that I’m still pursuing this with him. “What about you?”

  “Me? I want to see tenderness. A tenderness only a heart as sweet and pure as yours can hold. I want to see a lusty fire burn in them every time you look at me. And most of all, I want them to tell me the secrets you keep buried and hidden in your heart.”

  My breath hitches. His sweet words spear into my heart and branch out to the ends of my fingers and the tips of my toes. My stomach flutters, like a bird drunk on love. I need to touch him. I should be in his arms after that declaration, but he isn’t reaching out for me, and I don’t understand why not.

  “I should be terrified of you,” I whisper as if it’s a fact I just stumbled upon.

  He looks down and then meets my eyes, once again, jaw clenched, eyes cold.

  “Yes. You should.”

  “But I’m not. At all. I’m not sure why, but I’m drawn to you. I’m just wondering why you’re fighting what you feel for me so hard.”

  “Maybe I know that no matter how much I might want to take you in my arms and kiss away yo
ur fears, it’s not going to make anything better.”

  “Right. Because of your girlfriend.” Shit. I look away. Here I am practically begging him to put his feelings for her aside and act on the ones he has for me. When did I lose my moral compass?

  He shakes his head. “I love her, but she’s not my girlfriend. I have no claim on her, nor does she have one on me.”

  I nod, relieved. Happy, because this beautiful prince of darkness is meant to be mine, and I his. It’s one of those things you know in your gut, and your heart seconds it with every beat. There’s no fighting, no denying it. Neither will work. At this moment, I don’t want to question or analyze the crazy thoughts and feelings I have. All I know is the unyielding need to touch him. I’ll hurt forever if I don’t. I close in on him and reach my hand to his chest.

  The simple touch races through every fiber of my body. From my head to my toes, to the extra hard pounding of my heart and the pulsing between my legs.

  “What if I want you to hold me and kiss away my fears? Would you?”

  His eyes are locked on mine as his tongue darts out and licks his top lip. He’s considering it, and I only hope his imagination is as salacious and wild as mine. That look in his dark, hooded eyes tells me that it is.

  Sizzle. Crack. Sizzle.

  Electric sparks jump and burn between us. He takes a tiny step forward, inching closer, but he’s still too far, and his hands still aren’t taking their fill of me. I want those hands running over my body, but I don’t know how to get them to do it.

  I bite my lip, anticipation getting the best of me. I’ve never wanted someone so bad in my life. I never wanted anyone else, period. The sum of my experience adds up to a few careless kisses here and there that meant nothing and did nothing to make me want more.

  I don’t want careless kisses anymore. My body is filled with the type of desire you see in movies or read about in books. It pulls on my muscles and wakens my cells. It’s filled with need and longing so strong and palpable, it’s all I can think about. It’s like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this very man. For this very moment. I was physically broken before him, unable to respond to anyone else, because I was made for the sensual stranger standing before me.

  His heart races beneath my hand. It’s pounding fast and hard, mirroring my own. I wonder if he feels the same pain, the same ache in his chest, the way I feel it in mine.

  “Kiera, you’re playing with fire.”

  “Like you said before, if you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve already.”

  “Yes, but…wait, are you saying you trust me?” he asks, sounding surprised.

  I nod. “With my life. I know it’s stupid. It’s way too soon, and I shouldn’t, but yes. There’s a little voice in my head telling me to trust you.”

  His eyes glass over as he pulls me into his arms and holds my head against his chest. I feel each long, exaggerated breath he pulls in, contrasted by the short shallow ones from me. He runs his hand down my hair and I breathe easier, taking in his fresh, clean scent. He even smells perfect. Just like I remember.

  *

  “I only have a minute, Kukla,” he says, using the name he and his mother call me. I don’t bother correcting them anymore. They know my name’s Kiera, and if he doesn’t know it by now, he never will. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

  “Why? Are you leaving? Are you going on vacation?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. We’re moving far away so we can be closer to my father.”

  “Oh.” I’m disappointed. I don’t know where far away is, but he went once before, and it took forever for him to come back.

  “Can I visit you?”

  He shakes his head. “We have to take a plane to get there, it’s too far to visit.”

  I sniffle, trying to hold back my tears. If Sammy sees me cry, he’s going to make fun of me and tell all the kids in my class.

  “When are you coming back?”

  He shakes his head. “Momma says we can’t ever come back.” He looks at the ground and shuffles his feet. “But I’m going to miss my kukla too much to never come back.”

  I want to beg him to take me with him, to let me hide in his suitcase, then he’ll have to come back to bring me home. And then he can stay.

  “You’re my best friend, Dante.”

  “You’re mine, too. And Kiera, if I ever find a real unicorn, I promise I’ll bring it back for you.”

  Chapter 7

  “Dante!”

  It’s him. I know it’s him. I throw my arms around him. He’s real. Alive. Flesh and bone, just as I thought. Just as I remember. I never understood why he left and I don’t know why he’s back, but he stole a piece of my heart. He ripped it off and held onto it all these years. Being in his arms, I feel whole again.

  A hint of a smile lights up his somber face. “You remember?”

  “Of course I do. I could never forget you.”

  “But Sammy said…” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”

  “Sammy knows? My brother knew you were here and he never told me? Why not?”

  “Because…” I see the lump in his throat bob as he swallows. “I haven’t been Dante in a very long time. Not since I left here.”

  “You’ll always be Dante. My Dante.” He brushes the hair that’s fallen in front of my face back behind my ear. He’s gentle. Kind. He’s Dante. “I knew you’d come back. I’ve missed you so much!”

  Without thinking, I reach up and kiss his cheek, trailing soft, quick kisses to his lips. I lean against his hard body, the body that’s been beckoning me all day. This explains the crazy thoughts I’ve been having about him, the relentless pull toward him. I must’ve known, must’ve sensed who he is. I can’t think of anything now except how this isn’t enough. I want more. I want all of him. And I want to give him all of me.

  “I won’t hurt you, Kiera. But that doesn’t mean you won’t still get burned.”

  “You’re worth the risk.”

  He lets go of me and steps away, balling his hands into fists, shaking his head. “I’m not. I’m no good for you. No matter how much I want to be.” His voice drops. “And I really want to be.”

  A cold chill surrounds me. I’m craving the warmth of his arms. I feel my heartbeat thrum in my chest, in my ears, in my throat. I want him to hold me again.

  “I won’t tell them if that’s what you’re worried about. I won’t get you in trouble.”

  “You’re worried about protecting me?” he asks, looking stunned that I’d say such a thing.

  “If that’s what’s holding you back.”

  “You sweet girl.” Quick as lightening, he grabs my head and his fingers thread through my hair as he leans down so we’re eye to eye. His large caramel eyes are pained. There’s something in the way he looks at me, something sad and troubled in his eyes that clenches my heart tight. “You’re so beautiful. Inside and out. I don’t want you to protect me, I want to protect you. It’s all I ever wanted to do, and I fail at it, every time.”

  “No. You’ve always protected me. You kept me safe from Sammy and the creepy man that tried to kidnap me when we were kids.”

  I’m surprised at how close to the surface this memory is. Luckily Dante was in the bathroom at the time and on his way back to the main dining area. He heard the man ask me to help him find his lost puppy. I started walking with the man, but before we made it to the front door, Dante alerted my father. The man left me and ran away as fast as he could.

  The creepy man came back a few weeks later. Once I recognized him, I tried to get back to the kitchen, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door. Again Dante interceded, grabbing my other hand and pulling me in the opposite direction while screaming for the creeper to stop. This time my father hopped over the counter with a baseball bat.

  Mommy came and ushered us to a booth in the back. After thanking Dante, she brought us each a hot chocolate and sat with us. I shook and trembled, my teeth sounding like castanets. After that, I wasn’t allowe
d in the main section of the diner unless my parents were there. Otherwise I had to stay in the kitchen, or with Mommy. But I didn’t care, because I was safe and it was because of him. The man standing in front of me.

  “Kiss me,” I say in a breathy voice.

  “I shouldn’t.” He leans his forehead against mine. I feel his breath on my lips, and it ignites a longing I’ve never felt before.

  “Please?” I place my hands on his face. It’s hard to breathe. I need him like I need oxygen. I can’t believe I’m asking him to do this, but I can’t let this moment pass. I imagined it all through my teenage years. I promised myself if I ever saw him again, I’d find the courage to kiss him.

  He was cute as a boy, my first crush. But those days are long gone. He’s no longer a boy, he’s a strong, sexy man with striking features. And what I feel right now is a lot stronger than a schoolgirl crush. It’s pure unadulterated lust.

  “If I kiss you,” he says, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip, his voice little more than a whisper, “I might not be able to stop.”

  I take a deep breath, filling my chest with air so he feels my breasts against him. “Who says I’ll want you to?”

  One hand snakes around my waist and pulls me hard, holds me tight, crushes me against him. I suck in a breath, afraid, excited, buzzing from the thrill of what’s going to come next.

  This time, I don’t try to break away. Instead, I stand on my tiptoes, interlock my fingers at the back of his neck, and press against him harder, closer.

  “I want you so bad, Kiera, but it would be wrong,” his words are soft, his voice low.

  I shake my head, barely able to speak. “It’s not wrong. It’s what I want.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He continues to stare at me. The tension between us is thick and heavy and full of sexual need.

  “Think about it.” I don’t know if my being so forward will turn him off. I’ve never asked a man for his attention. If anything, I’ve become a pro at deflecting and ignoring them. “If you can’t get me out of here in time, what happens?”