She set her tea cup aside and followed Peter when he led her past a group of maids who looked to be in their late fifties and sixties. The women spoke in excited whispers as they passed. Rya kept her eyes forward and tried to pretend that this was all normal, that she was used to being abducted by her boyfriend’s dad.
No biggie.
Even before she reached the rooms where Dimitri’s father was staying she knew she was approaching a sickroom. The familiar smells that she associated with her hospice tinged the air and she took a deep breath then let it out slowly, chagrined that the hospital odors relaxed her. She didn’t associate hospitals with bad things and she spent so much time there that this almost smelled like home to her.
Before Peter opened the door to room, he looked over at her and all humor was gone from his face. He held her gaze and said in a low voice, “You will be respectful to Mr. Novikov. Do you understand me? If you love Dimitri you will do nothing to upset his father. He is lucid most of the time, but every once in a while he slips and when he does his temper flares. You will not fight with him. It would be a big mistake and complicate matters.”
“I understand. Go in, make nice, get the fuck out of here. Got it.”
He made a frustrated noise and opened the door. “Lucky for you Mr. Novikov has a similar taste in spirited women as his sons. He may enjoy your candor. Just don’t be stupid.”
Rya lifted her chin and strolled into the room, stunned by what lay on the other side of the door. The room itself was massive, with at least thirteen-foot ceilings and art covering every inch of wall space. And not just any art, wonderful paintings done in a variety of styles. She gazed around the room in awe, her eyes unable to focus on one object, overwhelmed by the splendor. After a long moment her gaze trailed over to the massive cream marble fireplace against the far wall and the very utilitarian hospital bed near it. A withered man watched her from the bed and as she stared into his sunken eyes he smiled at her. He was completely bald, even his eyebrows and eyelashes were gone, and she sucked in a soft breath at the obvious signs of the cancer ravaging his body.
He said in surprisingly good English, “You look like my first wife.”
She looked over to Peter for guidance but he seemed as baffled as she was. “Thank you. Was she Alex’s mother?”
“Come closer, little rabbit. That is what my son calls you, yes?”
She flushed and nodded, trying to keep in mind that this was a terrible man who had done dreadful things despite the fact that he was obviously on death’s door. “It is.”
“And what do you call him?”
“My wolf.”
He cackled with delight, then coughed heavily and brought his oxygen mask to his face. In reaching for it he almost knocked over the picture of a beautiful toddler dressed in a bright jumper with red gold curls and the Novikov gunmetal grey eyes. With a trembling hand he straightened the picture before turning to look at her again. “Yes, I have heard that you have brought out the predator in my Dimitri. He has become most savage in his defense of you.”
Unsure what to say, she kept her silence. There was a gleam in Mr. Novikov’s eyes she didn’t like, that small hint of insanity she was used to seeing in her older patients as dementia set in. Things had the potential to go really, really bad; she had to be smart and keep her temper. “Why am I here, Mr. Novikov? What do you want from me?”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly super polite, but she hadn’t told him to fuck off.
Mr. Novikov smiled at her, his gums had receded in an alarming manner. “You are here because I need some answers from you.”
Her heart raced and she pressed her hands to her skirt to try and hide their shaking. “What are they?”
“Did you really kill the man who tried to kidnap you?”
“I did.”
He lowered the oxygen mask and slowly nodded. “How did it feel?”
“What?”
“When you killed him, how did it feel?”
“I’m not talking about this.”
He cackled. “Yes, you are. You will answer my questions, little rabbit, or I will not let you go. I won’t hurt you, but I will keep you in a cage until your wolf comes to rescue you.”
She gingerly rubbed the tender bump on the side of her head. “Yeah, sorry if I don’t believe you thanks to this nice goose egg on my skull. Since I’ve already been hurt, forgive me if I doubt that you care about what happens to me as long as you get your way.”
Anger suffused his face, turning his skeletal features into something horrifying. “You have been harmed?”
Peter stepped up behind her. “Looks like Veldor hit her on the temple to knock her out.”