by Bree Porter
Why did she drive me into Konstantin’s arms?
I hated being confused, I hated being in the dark. My brain twisted painfully over the reasons and theories, desperate to try and find an answer. A world without logic was hard for me to process and uncomfortable for me to bare, like there was a constant itch in my mind that I could never scratch.
The word unattainable pulsed through me. Unattainable, unattainable, unattainable.
Konstantin’s hand reached out, catching a strand of my loose hair. He ran it gently through his fingers. “What is going on that brain of yours?” His voice was quiet, soft.
“None of your business.”
His smile was small, eyes remaining on the strand of hair. “You’re not going to share?”
“Feel free to guess.” It came out more breathless than I had intended. His proximity was confusing, disorientating.
“Guess?” Blond brows rose ever so slightly. “Aren’t we a little old for games, Elena?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I could say the same to you.”
“Indeed, you could.” His gaze roamed over me, like he was trying to peer through my skull and into my brain. He twisted my hair between his fingers like a strand of silk, rendering me in place. “You’re frustrated that you don’t know why Tatiana has chosen now to reveal herself. I can see your mind trying to find the answer but coming up short.”
I wrenched my head back, hair pulling painfully from his grip. “No.”
“Yes.” Konstantin replied.
I felt naked, exposed. Every inch of my skin was hot; I was burning. “Just shut up, Konstantin. I’m trying to keep a toddler asleep.”
“I already agreed to be quieter. Yet you’re still here.”
I was still here. I couldn’t leave. There was something deep inside me that was preventing me from walking out of the study, something that was preventing me from leaving Konstantin.
My cheeks were flushed as I said, “I’m leaving.”
It took all my strength to turn around and head back towards my bedroom. Unattainable, unattainable, unattainable.
I didn’t even make it to the hallway, before Konstantin pushed me up against the door. The knob dug painfully into my back, but all my discomfort was forgotten as Konstantin held up my chin, grip firm but not rough.
His brown eyes stared into mine, desperately trying to find something in my mossy green depths.
“Let me go,” I gritted out.
Konstantin’s features darkened. “Not again.” His thumb reached out, gently caressing my bottom lip. I felt the touch ricochet through my entire body. “What’s the word?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leaned in closer, his scent overwhelming my lungs and brain. “The word on repeat in your mind right now. I can almost hear it.” His lips scraped over my temple. “Maybe if you’re quiet, I’ll be able to make it out.”
I gulped. “There’s no word.”
“Don’t be dishonest, Elena.” Konstantin held up one of my hands, fingers roaming gently over the ink on my skin. “Yearning,” he read, “traitor, exhausted, liar. I can only imagine what these are referring to.”
I tried to free myself from his grip, but he didn’t relent. “I wanted to write your nickname down,” I hissed, “but it would be inappropriate to say in front of the kids.”
Amusement glinted in his expression. “I’ll bet.”
Neither of us moved for a second, breathing each other in.
“What’s the word, Elena?” Konstantin asked once more, tone not unkind.
“There’s no word.” I pulled back my head, trying to wrench myself free of his grip. “And if there was, what would make you privy to it?”
Something dark and horrible flashed in the depths of his eyes. It looked like something between wrath and envy, betrayal and greed.
I had to turn my head. Seeing that look in his eyes made every cell in my body flinch.
Konstantin released me but didn’t step back. “Maybe it’s my turn to be the guesser.”
I stepped away from him, hand scrambling behind me to open the door. “Go ahead,” I hissed, already stepping back into the hallway.
His smile was small. “Unattainable.”
Without saying anything, I turned and darted back to my room. I leaned against the closed door, hand to my racing heart and stuttered through my next breaths. Unattainable, unattainable, unattainable.
Through the mahogany, I could’ve sworn I heard Konstantin’s low and seductive laughter.
14
Konstantin Tarkhanov
I woke up with thoughts of my mother.
Remembering Yekaterina Tarkhanova was never pleasant, akin to sticking one’s hand into a pit of vipers. She had been a tense woman, a difficult one. Out of all my brothers, I had been the only one able to handle her and remain with my mind intact–it had made me her favourite and the center of her attention.
I had no idea why I would think of the women until I heard Nikolai’s voice through the walls. “Mama, Mamaaaa.”
I rubbed my face. That was probably why I had woken up thinking of that strange and unwell creature I had called my mother.
For a moment, I listened. I could hear Nikolai’s voice better than Elena’s, though his words were gurgled with child-like speak. They were chatting about breakfast from the sounds of it, the word pancake thrown around a few times by Nikolai.
I turned and checked the clock. 5:06 am.
It would be a few hours until breakfast, which was probably what Elena was telling him. They talked for a bit longer until I heard the click of her bedroom door.
I was up in an instant.
Elena didn’t flinch when I snapped open the door, but Nikolai did. He grabbed his mother’s knee and yelped, “Mama!”
“It’s just Konstantin, baby.” She turned to me and paused.
Her eyes dropped to my chest, running over the exposed skin. I had slept in my briefs in case I needed to stop her from leaving during the night, but they didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
Elena went bright red.
I felt like a teenage boy, standing there half-naked. I was smug in my beauty and Elena’s reaction to it. It felt good to know that I was a thought in her mind, one that could conjure up embarrassment and heat.
After all, Nikolai hadn’t been brought by the storks.
And it was him who reminded both Elena and I we weren’t alone.
“Don’t slam doors,” he told me even though I hadn’t slammed any doors. It was said in the exact same way Elena would say it, which led me to believe Nikolai was making fun of his mother more than he was lecturing me.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “We don’t slam doors.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “We’re not leaving, Konstantin. You can go back to bed.” She lifted her empty hands. “See? No luggage.”
“So it appears.”
“Mama and me makin’ pancakes.” Nikolai stumbled over a few of the words, but I understood the gist.
“Sounds delicious.” I smirked at Elena. “Let me put some warmer pants on.”
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she realized I would be joining the two of them. It was Nikolai who grinned and clapped his hands. “Lots of pancakes!”
“I’m sure Konstantin has other things he would rather do.” She gritted out, expression blazing with irritation.
My smile never faltered. “Nothing more important than making pancakes.”
“Lots!” Nikolai added.
“Yes, yes, we’ll make lots.” Elena muttered behind me as I stepped back into my bedroom.
I returned to the hallway with sweatpants on, which only made Elena redder. To punish me for her own embarrassment, Elena elected to ignore me and strode down to the kitchen, Nikolai skipping beside her. Every now and then he would almost fall or bang into something, but he always caught him and laughed jubilantly at his near miss with danger
.
How much he reminded me of Natasha was painful. She had been the same as a toddler. Too smart but too young to do anything about it, so she had channelled her sharp mind into causing trouble. I saw the same problem with Nikolai.
The house was dark and quiet. Even if people were awake at this hour, we had an unspoken rule not to bother each other between dinner and breakfast. It was our time to be by ourselves, for the married ones to enjoy their spouses and the single ones to enjoy their sex lives–or lack thereforth.
Nikolai ran to the cupboard as soon as we reached the kitchen, swinging open the door. I caught it before it hit the wall.
“Careful with doors,” I warned him.
Nikolai frowned at me. “You did it.”
I had and he clearly remembered. Evva was the same; watching everything that happened around her and trying her best to copy us.
Elena looked at me, expression smug. What have you got to say to that? You did it, too, she told me.
“It was an accident,” I told him.
“It was accident,” Nikolai pointed to the door he had just been rough with.
I tried not to laugh but couldn’t help the grin that snapped up my face. The madness that haunted my soul seemed to fade briefly. “You argue like your mother, has anyone ever told you that?”
Nikolai looked back at Elena, “Mama?” then returned to me. “Like my mama.”
“Yes, very much like your mama.” I gestured to the cupboard. “Pick out the ingredients you want to use.”
“He’ll end up making us all sick,” Elena pointed out when Nikolai went straight for the bicarb.
“Like his mama?” I asked.
She waited until Nikolai wasn’t looking before flashing me the finger. I choked down my laugh.
With our help, Nikolai gathered all the ingredients. I grabbed the stool that Anton and Evva used when they helped in the kitchen. It had a strict Not A Toy sticker on it, placed by Artyom before Evva could even walk. My son took one look at that stool and saw a jungle gym.
“Careful on that,” Elena snapped when Nikolai tried to use it to haul himself up onto the bench. “If you fall back, you’ll crack your neck open and I’ll have to clean your brains up.”
He shook his head. “Nooo.”
“Yes, it’s true, my wild boy.” She put a hand to her hip. “Then who will help me make pancakes, mmm? So, are you smart or stupid?”
Nikolai pulled himself onto one leg. “Smart.”
“Smart boys get their brains cracked open, huh? I don’t think so.” Elena tickled his arm and he snatched it away, laughing. “Now, are you smart or stupid?”
Then to my amazement, Nikolai placed both his feet on the stool and used it properly. With a heavy defeated sigh, he said, “Smart.”
Elena stroked his hair. “Yes, we are. I promise if you behave, we can go outside later and find something to climb. Does that sound good?”
He nodded his head and almost jumped in joy but remembered the warning first.
“Good boy.” Elena looked at me over his head, eyebrows raised. “Are the mixing bowls in the same place?”
I inclined my head.
For a moment, I saw them both living by themselves. I hadn’t contemplated it in great depth before seeing them work so well together but now it was all my mind could focus on. Yes, Elena and Nikolai were joining our family–but in some ways, we were also joining theirs. They had their own dynamics, rules and jokes.
It was agony to know I had missed out on so much. But I also felt relief. I had lost that time with my son, but he hadn’t gone without love. Nikolai had Elena, and Elena had Nikolai. The pair of them had cared for each other, loved one another and made each other happy.
How many dawns had they woken up at and made pancakes together as the sun had risen? How many trees had they climbed together while the rest of the world had been asleep? How many jokes had been made, how many compromises had been shared?
I found my rage dimming ever so slightly in the midst of my curiosity...and relief.
Pure and utter relief that while Elena had been without her family, she hadn’t been alone. She hadn’t been without love. Not like all those years she had been at her family’s mercy and then her husband’s.
Nikolai broke up my train of thought by leaning over me to fill up the jug. Elena went to do it, but I stepped in.
“Have you got it?” I asked him. I felt Elena’s watchful stare on me but ignored it. I didn’t appreciate her treating me like a threat around my own flesh and blood.
His wrists wavered as he tried to hold it up. “Little help,” he mumbled.
I held the jug as it filled with water but didn’t release my grip when Nikolai went for it.
“I can do it,” he moaned.
“Okay, but it’s heavy so you need to hang onto it.”
Nikolai nodded and grabbed it. Instantly, his arms began to bend but I caught the bottom of the jug quickly. The weight lessened and he dragged it over to the bowl.
“Gentle,” I coaxed before he could pour it in and make a mess.
“Mmm.” Nikolai tried to pour it faster, but I held tight. “Let me do it.”
“Where are your manners?” Elena asked, voice strange.
He quickly corrected himself. “Pleaseee. Let me do it pleaseeee.”
I laughed to myself. Children and their exaggerated pleases.
Elena added a few more things to the batter before passing Nikolai the spoon. She held it out to him but didn’t relent her grip. “Remember to stir not smack the batter. Or else the pancakes will be gross.”
Nikolai stirred for about 10 seconds until he began using the spoon as a makeshift drumstick. Bits of batter flew everywhere, making him laugh. “Oopsy!”
“I don’t think that was an accident,” Elena muttered.
I laughed softly. “I think it was premeditated.”
We shared a look of amusement over the top of his head. Elena realized in an instant that she was pissed with me and I remembered at the exact same time I wasn’t too happy with her either. We broke up the soft moment by turning away from each other and back to the toddler.
“Let Mama do it,” Elena said eventually.
Nikolai didn’t mind handing it over. He went for a spot of batter on the counter, dunking his finger into it and plopping it into his mouth.
“Don’t eat that,” I told him. “That has raw egg in it. You will get sick.”
He smiled around his finger. “Nope!”
“Denying something doesn’t make it any less true.” I leaned over and grabbed some of the blueberries. “Here if you want something to eat, have some of these.”
After Elena had just left, we came to the conclusion we had too many blueberries. We had lost two family members, which was two mouths and stomachs. It was such a strange, odd problem to have a time of such agonizing turmoil, but it had ended with Roksana burying all the rotten blueberries in the garden.
Three years later, and we now had an impressive collection of blueberry bushes. Fruit was something we never seemed to run out of.
That and bullets.
Nikolai was delighted I had offered him some blueberries and immediately plopped a handful into his mouth. Purple juice spilled over his lips and stained his pyjamas.
“How are you already making a mess?” I grabbed the cloth and wiped his chin. When he tried to dodge, I called him back. “You’re going to turn purple.”
His green eyes widened, and he looked back to his mother for confirmation. Elena had stopped stirring and was standing completely still, eyes stuck to us like she was glued to the spot. She had a peculiar look on her face, seeing something that I couldn’t.
“Elena?” I prompted.
“Huh?” Elena swallowed, coming back down to planet Earth. “I’m sorry. What were you talking about?”
“If Nikolai is going to turn purple,” I tapped my own chin to slyly tell her the issue.
H
er eyes dropped to Nikolai and she sighed. “How did I birth the messiest eater on the planet? Who can I talk to about that?” She seemed to animate back to life, resuming her stirring. “It’s true, my wild boy. Wipe your face or you’ll turn purple.”
Nikolai let me clean his chin but drew the line when I went to wipe his shirt. To punish me, he shoved more blueberries into his mouth, making sure to get his fingers in there too and stain them just as much.
“You’re going to be a nightmare to bath,” I mused.
He grinned and nodded. “Yep!”
When it was time to cook the pancakes, Elena put her foot down. “The stove is a big person job,” she told a whining Nikolai. He was by her feet, begging to cook them.
“I am a big boy,” he told her.
“No, you’re not,” she replied, not unkindly. “You’re a little boy. But one day you’ll be big and then you can use the stove.”
Nikolai tipped his head back like this was the worst news he had ever heard in his life. He let out a bellowing whine. “I am a big boy!”
“A few more birthdays,” I told him.
He cut his eyes to me like he couldn’t believe I was interfering in his tantrum. Elena was the only disciplining force he had ever experienced.
“When you’re as tall as me, you can use the stove.”
Nikolai glanced down at my feet and then slowly tipped his head back until his eyes reached my face. He scowled. “When I’m one-hundred?”
Elena made a coughing sound that sounding a lot like a choked back laugh.
I hid my smile. “Is that how old you think I am? How old is your mother, then?”
“Careful,” Elena warned, holding up the spatula.
Nikolai looked like he was thinking about it. “Four.”
She laughed. “Oh, thank you, baby. I will give you the biggest pancake.” She cut her eyes to me. “You can get the burnt one.”
“Respect your elders,” I warned her.
Elena turned away but I could see her cheeks curving inwards as she grinned. The grin disappeared as soon as she remembered who I was and what we had done to each other–or rather, what she had done to me and her family.
That seemed to be a common theme between the two of us. We fell into happiness but somehow while we were falling, we realized with a shock: I hate this person right now. This person broke my heart and ignited my rage. Just like that, the happiness evaporated and our surly attitudes towards each other returned.
