Page 3 of Anton

“Volchok,” I say, ignoring the friend and marching up right behind her.

I wonder if she’ll recognize me. It hasn’t been long since my brother Kirill’s wedding a couple of weeks ago. Then again, we only looked at one another briefly, though I still have her photo burning in my pocket, her face etched into my subconscious until I saw her in my sleep.

Because that’s what I do when I’m given a job. I think of nothing else until it’s over. And that’s exactly what this is: a job.

I cage her in, and she still doesn’t face me. Her body rocks with quick, shallow inhales, like she’s afraid of me.

She should be. In more ways than one.

My hand lifts, one finger edging closer to her long brown waves. “Do you always touch what isn’t yours?”

She gasps just under her breath, and as she starts to turn, I pull away.

“Oh! Uh, I’m sorry. I…well…” Her cheeks flush as she faces me fully.

I almost laugh.

“You what?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Regularly approach animals that could kill you?”

“That’s what I said,” her friend interjects.

But I continue to pretend she doesn’t exist. It’s better that way for the both of us.

Thora’s eyes bulge as she glares at Blair.

“I’m sorry.” She returns her focus to me. “But I saw him tied up and wasn’t sure if he was alone or thirsty or, you know, abandoned.”

“Well, he’s not.” The brisk way I say that makes her jerk a bit, which is the reaction I was hoping for.

I move toward my dog, my forearm brushing past her, and she draws in a sharp breath.

Women. I don’t get them, and I don’t want to.

All I want is to get my dog away from her so he can go back to being who he has always been: unapproachable. One of the many things we have in common.

As I untie him, his tail wags, his face pushing up into her hand.

Forget what I said. We have nothing in common. In fact, maybe I’ll drop him off at the nearest shelter and find a new one.

But as I look at him, I groan.

Fine. I won’t do it. I’m stuck with this thing.

“Aww. I’m going to miss you too, Volchok,” she says, butchering his name.

But of course, he doesn’t mind. Nope, he eats it right up.

Pathetic. What is wrong with you? A minute with a pretty girl who rubs your belly and you forget your morals? Shameful. You’re no better than my brothers, marrying women they don’t know anything about.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell is wrong with them. Konstantin married a fed. Aleksei, a prosecutor. Kirill at least didn’t marry someone from the law, but she did try to steal from him, so he’s no better.

Thank God I will never have that problem. The best thing my father could’ve done for me was smash that bottle on my head when I was nine and leave me there to rot until I lost all ability to feel shit like this.

He saved me.

“Davay, Volchok.” Come on, little wolf.

I pull his leash, but he refuses to move, pressing his head into her until he’s practically grinning.