Page 79 of The Darkness is Calling

In the arms of the monster I am falling in love with.

“You seem awfully cheerful today,” Oksana remarks when I arrive at the gallery.

“I slept well,” I tell her, holding back a giggle.

“Judging by the dark circles your makeup is barely covering, I wouldn’t have guessed.”

I could lie, blame the food, or invent some other stupid reason. But I don’t want to lie to her. I want to be brave and strong like Artem and tell the truth, even when, in certain cases, it would be better to avoid it.

Like now.

“If I hadn’t had that meeting in the morning, I would have slept longer. The bed was too good.”

Being beside him was divine.

When the alarm rang in the morning, he was still next to me, his nose buried in my hair. He was awake, watching me as if I were the most precious person on the planet.

He kissed me, and his lips moved down my throat, then to my chest. After he pulled me on top of him, I placed my knees on either side of his body, and he entered me.

He was already hard. And naked. And I hadn’t put my underwear back on last night.

He moved slowly, and I felt as if we were making love, because his eyes never left mine, whispering to me again and again in Russian that I was his and only his.

Sometimes he said ours, but it was not a good moment to ask why he used the plural.

I realize strange things are happening in his mind, things I hope we will clarify as soon as possible.

“My intuition tells me you’re hiding something,” Oksana insists with a sly grin. “So, what is it?”

I wish I could confess to her, but things are still too unclear, and I don’t fully understand them myself well enough to explain. That is exactly why my shoulders slowly drop, and my cheerful expression turns more subdued.

“I don’t know yet. But I promise I’ll tell you everything once I understand what is happening around me too.”

“So, something is happening.”

I nod slightly, glancing briefly toward Dima, who, as usual, keeps a discreet distance.

“Something is happening.”

Her face slowly grows concerned, and she takes my hand in hers, both of us sitting on the white sofa.

“Don’t tell me you have something going on with that shestyorka,” she whispers.

Dimitri is far too respectful and proper for me not to defend him.

“He’s not a shestyorka,” I scold her lightly. “He’s more like a pravaya ruka, a little below the Pakhan’s brothers.”

She lifts an eyebrow.

“Still not enough. So, it’s him?”

“No,” I say quickly, almost laughing. “Absolutely not!”

“Good. I mean, he’s good-looking, but I don’t think it’s worth risking everything for a bodyguard. He may be physically strong, but he doesn’t have the kind of power you need to be protected right now.”

“Something tells me no one could protect me,” I say softly, almost a whisper she can barely hear, though she catches the sadness in my voice.

“Does this have to do with the wedding?”