Page 64 of Vows of Blood
Anya groans and rolls her eyes. “Damn. I forgot we were on the clock. Well, maybe we don’t drink too much of it this evening, then.”
“Speak for yourself,” Dmitri says. “I can shoot through a keyhole drunk.” We both laugh. That’s a fact that’s been proven on more than one drunken evening.
And so it is. We get shot glasses and take the bottle into the living room. The rest can wait until we’ve had at least one drink. We could use it. I look toward the stairs where the bedrooms are and wonder if I should wake Isabella to join us.
“Oh, wait,” Anya says suddenly. “Be right back. Anya wanted me to pick up some Pepto for her stomach.”
I’d noticed that she looked a little green in the gills lately. Anya disappears back into the kitchen and I call after her, “Let me know if she needs anything else.”
“Sure thing.” She returns with a smaller bag in her hand as she walks past us. After these drinks, maybe I should check in with her as well.
“Wanna do the honors?” Dmitri asks as he holds out the bottle to me.
I take it and open it. “Two shots only,” I say. “Then one of you takes first shift.”
“Three,” he says, “and I’ll volunteer for first shift.”
“I doubt Anya would object. Fine by me,” I say. “But if I have to pick either of you up off the floor tonight, I’m locking you in the cellar to sleep it off.”
23
ISABELLA
Idon’t know how to tell him.
A few hours ago, Anya brought me the pregnancy test. She wanted to wait with me, but I insisted that she go back downstairs with the others. The last thing I needed was for them to come up here to see what the holdup was.
Five minutes after that, the test showed my worst fear in little electronic letters.Pregnant.I just sat on the toilet, staring at it for who knows how long. Minutes, hours,years.I guess I was hoping that it might change.
So. I’m carrying Alexei’s baby. Now what do I do?
After a while, I got into bed and I just lay there under the covers, softly weeping until I drifted off to sleep. At some point in the night, I felt the bed shift as Alexei climbed into bed with me. He smelled heavily of alcohol. I guess he and the others found some booze somewhere in the cupboards, or maybe Anya got some when she was out. The smell mixed with his natural scent was distracting and it knocked me right out of my sleep… so I got up.
I’m sitting next to the window looking out into the shadows around the cabin, seeing and not seeing the landscape. A baby changes everything. I keep thinking about the events that have transpired since I married into this family. I think about Anya’s take on how things work in ‘the brotherhood’ and I wonder what that looks like when trying to raise a child. How does a mother navigate a culture that holds so much value on loyalty within the ranks of an organization?
Because that’s what this is at the end of the day. It’s a business. His family, my family. It’s all just stockbrokers with guns. It’s like a fucked, Bizarro-World rendition of what’s supposed to be a ‘family’ between us. The truth is that I don’t really know what an actual family is supposed to look like.
That thought hits me like a ton of bricks. My eyes start to burn with tears again and a well of sobs comes up from somewhere deep within me. I cover my mouth in an effort to stop the sound, stifling it down to a whimper.
What kind of mother would I be if I tried to raise this child in the Bratva lifestyle? Someone someday could be hunting him the way they’re coming for Alexei. His own cousins could decide that he’s not worthy of life because they want to be next in line for Alexei’s place. What if Alexei dies and I’m left with this baby and his father and all his ‘brothers’?
“Isabella?”
His voice is soft through the darkness, but it startles me. I gasp as I turn to the bed and see his silhouette lying on one elbow to look at me.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
I’m not. I’m not all right. I can’t hide it, but I can’t…
He gets up and walks over to me. The closer he gets, the more he sees my tears. I feel his rough hands take mine as he kneels down next to me. “Talk to me.”
I don’t want to talk. If I talk, then I’ll have to tell him. And I’m a mess. And I don’t want to be a mess. I need to feel something else.
His rough hands against my skin remind me of the kind of lover he can be. As time has gone on, he’s been more and more tender with me, something that I’ve come to cherish. I look up at his face, half obscured in shadow. The part of his face that the blue moonlight catches lights up his brilliant eyes, making them seem pale.
I lean in and kiss him, hard. I take his face in my hands and suck on his bottom lip, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He responds, kissing me back with passion. He pulls away slightly and says, “Isabella?—”
“Fuck me,” I say breathlessly as I kiss him again. This time, I take hold of his lip between my teeth, biting him a little. I don’t want his tenderness tonight. I want him to fuck me the way he did the first time. Harder, even. I need him to fuck the fear and despair right out of me.
