Page 28 of Delirium
His hands were fisted at his sides, his entire body strained, but his eyes never left me. He never once looked anywhere else. Just as Lazar said, it was as if he waited for a command.
“Storm,” I called out to him. “Come here.” I wiggled my fingers, beckoning him to me.
He didn’t hesitate, as if it was all he was waiting for. Without a minute to spare, his hand wrapped around mine, pulling me closer to him and away from Lazar.
I would have laughed at his comical expression and the way he narrowed his eyes at Lazar, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Both of them were exuding alpha energy, trying to one-up each other.
“Storm,” I said, breaking their staring contest. “This is Lazar Asterov.” I looked at Lazar. “My father. Well…” I chuckled. “My real father.”
Without missing a beat, Storm took a step toward Lazar, extending his hand for a handshake. Lazar took his, all the while smiling at a broody Storm.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Storm grunted, and I lost it.
Laughter bubbled up through my chest, erupting from me, echoing around the parking lot. Ten sets of eyes zeroed in on me as if I’d lost my mind, and maybe I had. But hearing Storm call Lazar sir had me howling all over again.
“Did your mom drop you on your head when you were a baby?” Lazar asked, dead serious. “Because I swear, there’s no other explanation as to why you would be this weird.”
“I agree,” Storm added. “Why the fuck are you laughing now?”
“Y-You… I can’t,” I choked out. “You called him sir.”
Both of them looked at me, then at each other, shaking their heads.
“Good luck with this one,” Lazar said to Storm, ignoring me. “It’s obvious she needs some, uh, help.”
I mean, he definitely wasn’t lying.
6
STORM
It tookme a while to realize that Lazar Asterov was nothing like his brother, Nikolai. It took me even longer to relax while we sat in a small coffee shop adjacent to the gas station, while Ophelia literally inhaled a chicken burger, oblivious to the tension between her father and me.
Lazar and Ophelia had the same eyes—the same color and same shape of the eyes. The more I stared at him, the more I realized that she never really looked like Nikolai. Maybe that was why I could look at her without resentment.
Maybe I always knew that she couldn’t have been the real daughter of such a monster, but knowing that his blood would never flow through my children’s veins made it easier to sleep at night. The nightmares I’d had where my son or a daughter would look like him haunted me even during the daytime. No matter how much I wanted to erase those images from my head, I couldn’t.
Nikolai Aster mocked me even in his death, sending his brother to ignite the hatred toward the patriarchs of the Aster family all over again.
“I need to go to the toilet,” Ophelia announced, dropping the empty paper wrap on the table. Both Lazar and I stared at her, waiting for her to start a conversation, but I knew that twinkle in her eye.
This was my punishment, sitting here with her father, unable to form the words. It wasn’t only that I feared he would take her away from me. Deep inside, I knew that there was not one single person who could tell her what to do. Even if he tried, I knew she would fight him.
No, this suffocating silence came because I couldn’t stop comparing Lazar and Nikolai. The maneuvers, the way he looked at Ophelia and then at me, the way he held his fork, I compared all of it to the man who was now dead and would never be able to hurt us again.
Ophelia dashed toward the bathroom, going between the empty tables, while Lazar’s guardians followed her every move.
“You don’t like me.” Lazar was the first to speak, using the opportunity because she wasn’t here.
“That’s not true,” I answered, still looking toward the door where Ophelia disappeared. “I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of you.” I looked at him. “I know her, and I know what she’s capable of, but she’s the only person from your fucked-up family I can trust.”
“I don’t blame you.” He shrugged, placing his elbows on top of the table. “I am sorry for what my brother did to you.”
“Yeah, well,” I scowled, “it isn’t your fault.”
“No, I know it’s not, but I still feel responsible because I did nothing to stop him.”
“But your daughter stopped him. She made sure he would never hurt another child in his life.”
