Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva #4)(91)

Déjà vu hit her as she left the room and headed back downstairs, finding Loki sitting in from of the bathroom door. A quick scan of the room told her she hadn’t heard any glass out there.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the bathroom, shutting Loki out. There wasn’t much space, Luka’s towering frame taking up most of the room.

But she could see what had happened, judging from the shattered glass of the mirror, the spot of blood in its center.

“Luka…” She called his name hesitantly, waiting to see his reaction before moving closer.

His shoulders visibly tightened, but he’d at least stopped the pacing he’d been doing in the tight space of the bathroom. “Yeah.”

“Can I help?”

Blood was dripping on the floor from his wounded hand, but he seemed oblivious to the injury or even to the pain she knew he had to be in.

When he didn’t outright deny her request, she slowly walked in. She circled him until she was at his front, carefully picking up his hand so she could inspect the damage. There were still bits of glass embedded in his flesh, blood oozing out around the shards.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?”

He was studying her with such pale, emotionless eyes before he nodded toward the cabinet beneath the sink. She retrieved it along with a pair of tweezers and a bottle of peroxide, setting it all on the counter beside her.

She was careful as she moved around since there was glass all over the floor and she was only wearing a pair of socks. Luka, realizing this, looped an arm around her waist, lifting her up until she was sitting on the sink, pushing her legs apart so he could stand between them.

It was hard not to react to him, especially when they were this close. He practically exuded a raw menace, yet she remembered what he had told her once, about how he enjoyed a little pain.

Swallowing, she cleared her throat, reaching for his hand again, more than a little aware of the other that he had resting beside her hip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Picking up the tweezers, she doused them with alcohol, pulling his hand closer to her face as she began to painstakingly remove every bit of glass that she could find.

He was still quiet, but she didn’t rush him for an explanation. To her, they had all the time in the world.

“What if I’m not who you think I am?”

She carefully controlled her reaction, not wanting to let him know that the question had caught her off guard. “Then who are you? You can tell me.”

He sighed, like the weight of the world was back on his shoulders. “You wouldn’t like my answer.”

“Luka, we’ve talked about this, or at least I talked and you listened. What is it that you think you’ve done that I would hate you for?”

With his hand free of glass, she poured peroxide over it, dabbing away the excess fluid with cotton balls, and then wrapping his hand with gauze and tape. He had yet to answer her question and didn’t seem like he was going to, at least until she was finished.

Holding her wrists in his hands, keeping her from touching him further, he forced her to look up at him. There was such misery in the depths of his eyes that she wished for the millionth time that he would just tell her what was eating him just so he could be free of it.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she eyed him carefully. “Is this where you tell me that you’re the wrong guy for me? Say that I should stay away from you?”

“Why the f*ck would I do that?”

“I don’t know, Luka. Why would you do this?” she asked, gesturing to his hand. “Whatever this secret is that you’re hiding…it’s obviously eating at you.”

The restraint was eating at him, and she almost thought he was going to break, but he shook his head, looking away. “It’s been a long f*cking day. I need some sleep.”

Pushing away from her, he was out of the bathroom before she could utter a protest.

There was no point in arguing the point with him, not when he wasn’t ready to open himself up. Luka was stubborn that way.

Up until this point, she had been content to wait for him to come to her, but now…she was frustrated at not being able to help him. Especially when he didn’t seem to want her help.

Sighing in defeat, she hit the lights, leaving the mess to clean up at another time. Back in his room, she stripped out of her clothes. Climbing into bed, she wished once again that things weren’t so difficult for the pair of them.

She had only just shut her eyes when Luka brushed her hair back from her face. He was kneeling at her side. “Could you do me a favor?”

Without hesitation, she said, “Anything.”

He walked out of the room and down the hall. Another door opened, a flood of light hitting the hallway, then Luka was back as quickly as he’d left, slamming the door shut behind him.

He carried what looked like a shoebox that was a shade of brown and covered with a light layer of dust. He tossed the lid off the side of the bed, reaching in to pull out a silk pouch that made her sit up, holding the sheet to her chest to better see what he was doing.

Pulling the strings loose, he turned the pouch over and two hair combs fell out into his palm. He was careful with them, and after a moment, he held them out for her.

They weren’t new, that much she could tell, but they were in pristine condition. Three prongs tapered to a point at the bottom, but the real beauty of them were the delicate white flowers, not just etched into the metal, but was actually the biggest part of the combs.