Zaal followed me to the back door, and his breath blew faster. I didn’t look back. I just opened the door, the winter wind off the ocean lashing at my face.
Zaal’s hand tightened in mine, but I stepped through taking him with me. The wind whistled loudly, but at least the sun shone bright. I stopped and Zaal stepped beside me. His eyes squinted at the sun. The look on his face as he scanned our private beach was like seeing someone coming home after the longest time. To me, it was the look of freedom.
“Do you want to walk farther?” I asked. Zaal looked at me, nerves played across his dark features, but he nodded.
I glanced down at his bare feet. I worried that he’d be cold, but he didn’t seem to feel the winter chill. I didn’t think anything, not even a damn hurricane, would register with him at this moment.
“I’ll show you the ocean,” I offered. We walked past the swimming pool and onto our private wooden walkway. The air was filled with the sound of waves crashing onto the sand. Zaal kept pace behind me. His breathing was erratic, and his muscles were tense. He flinched at the bright light, but I had a feeling nothing was going to stop him from reaching the beach.
When we reached the end of the dock, I turned to Zaal and dropped my hand. A panicked look swept over his face. I ignored it and kept going.
I shouted, “Have you ever seen sand before?”
I pointed at the smooth beige sand. As I expected, Zaal shook his head. I smiled. It got his attention. “One of the best feelings in the world is to walk on sand.”
Zaal stared down at the sand, studying it closely. I rubbed my hand down his arm. “Go,” I said, “feel the sand. Meet the ocean.”
Zaal was understandably apprehensive. His face paled slightly, but as I nudged my chin encouragingly in the direction of the beach, he stepped out.
As soon as his large feet sank into the sand, a gasp escaped his mouth. His toes wiggled, and he bent down to scoop the sand up in his hands. He remained crouched, hands buried under the soft sand for a good while.
A tidal wave of emotion washed over me, stealing my every breath. My hand clutched my chest and my eyes stung.
I, Talia Tolstaia, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of a Bratva boss of New York, was getting emotional for a Kostava. A Kostava who had no idea who the hell he was.
Legs feeling weak, I dropped down to sit on the edge of the wooden dock, wrapping my arms around my waist.
Zaal had his head bowed, a statue on the sand. I tasted salt on my lips, from the spray of the sea.
Zaal lifted his head. His eyes were closed. The sun kissed his face. I too felt the sun on my skin as though I was attracting its rays. I felt as though I was feeling it for the first time with him—the warmth. I was feeling the wind wrap around my hair. I was right here in the moment.
I sighed and Zaal opened his eyes. Those pearls of green fell upon me. Zaal stood slowly, and bowed his head at me. I smiled through trembling lips and though no smile pulled on his lips, it was shining from his eyes.
Zaal turned. His huge body, sculpted from vast muscles, his long black hair wild and free, slowly made his way to the endless rush of the waves.
I wrapped my arms around bent legs and rested my cheek on my knee. Zaal was walking to the tide. When he met the sea foam, I watched it pass over his feet. From here, I couldn’t hear him or see his face, but I could see his shoulders relax. Then he knelt down and pushed his hand into the salty ocean. It would be freezing at this time of year, but he didn’t even flinch.
Like he did with the sand, he stayed awhile touching the water, as if in prayer. Over fifteen minutes passed by. The entire time I simply watched him in silence.
Suddenly, Zaal stood and deeply exhaled. When he turned to face me, his green eyes were bright; my heart ceased to function.
He was smiling. It was small, it was faint, but it was there.
And in that moment I knew—I was losing my heart to the object of my family’s deepest hatred.
Zaal walked toward me. My thighs tensed. Everything about him was raw; his wild long hair, his dark stubble, his deep olive skin. He was everything I could have wished for.
“Did you like the beach, Zaal?” I asked, and raised my head.
Zaal closed his eyes. His lip hooked up in a small smile. I gasped at the sight. When he opened his eyes, he dusted his fingertips over his mouth. “I feel … happy.”
I placed my hand over my chest and closed my eyes, too overcome by what he’d been through, when fingers ran through my hair.
I opened my eyes. Zaal was looking at me in concern. “Why do you look sad?” he asked in his clipped English. A part of me then questioned how he knew English. That thought vanished as soon as he moved closer still to me.
I shook my head. “I feel sadness at how you’ve been treated.”
His black eyebrows pulled down. I knew he still couldn’t understand the gravity and the magnitude of what he’d been through. I knew he didn’t remember what was done to his family. He was the embodiment of living in the moment, living for now. Of course, I adored that Zaal was embracing and savoring life for the very first time.
“Ignore me,” I said as I waved my hand.
“You are tired?” he asked.
I nodded my head. “Yeah, I’ve barely slept these past couple of weeks.”
Stepping back onto the dock, Zaal reached down and lifted me up in his strong arms. I couldn’t help but laugh as he did so. He placed me down in front of him and put his hand in mine. “We rest,” he said with finality.
I let him lead me back to the house, then I led him up the stairs. I walked him to a spare room. As we entered, I hung back at the door. “You can sleep here.” I pointed to the bed. “You have a bed, Zaal. No more sleeping on the floor.”
I turned to leave the door, when Zaal suddenly reached for my hand. I turned my head to face him. Raw fear was on his face. He pulled me to his chest. “Where do you go?” he asked, his accent thicker as panic laced his voice.
“My room,” I whispered. My pulse picked up speed at the desperate look of need in his eyes.
His hand dropped and his fingers laced through mine. “I come with you.”
I knew this had to be it. This was the moment I stopped myself from falling off the cliff. This was the moment I called Luka and told him that Zaal had got rid of whatever fucked up serum was in his body. That it was time to come and get him.
Or, I’d jump off the cliff, arms wide and free-falling. I’d follow what was leading my heart. Zaal, the Kostava who had seized control of my soul.
Stepping closer to Zaal, I ran my hand down his chest, my eyes following my fingers, and I chose to fall. “You go where I go.”
Without looking at his face, I turned and walked to my room. As I entered through the door, I released his hand and walked to the window. I drew the blinds. The sun was fading now, the bright winter’s day drawing to its end. I paused as my hand hung on the blind’s chain. I was exhausted. I felt exhausted, conflicted, confused, yet at the same time, every cell in my body was zinging to life. Lustful adrenaline surged in my blood, igniting every sense. The cause: Zaal.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned. Zaal was watching me. I knew that look. He wore that look when I’d bathed him, when I’d stroked his cock. Wore it as I’d washed his hair, then straddled his lap.
Reaching my bed, I pulled a nightgown from my dresser. My eyes flitted back and forth to Zaal, who remained standing, waiting patiently at the door. My body was so aware of his overwhelming presence, that my large bedroom suddenly felt full, stifling. But right.
Throwing my nightgown on the bed, I walked to Zaal and took his hand. I led him further into the room. He followed and I pointed to my right. “The bathroom’s in there. You’ll probably want to have a shower.” My face flushed red as I remembered riding him in the basement. My breasts ached and my nipples hardened at the memory. I wasn’t sane around this man.
Zaal’s eyes bored into mine. His lips rubbed together as he watched me. Suddenly his finger was brushing across the apples of my cheeks. “You are red.” His eyes narrowed, studiously taking in every detail. “Why?”