Page 79 of The Beast of Moscow

“Excuse me?”

Vaslav ignored her tone, tipping the box over into his palm to eye the rainbow of pills that fell out. “Do you know how many medications I’ve been on over the last fifteen years of my life?”

Vera didn’t reply.

She also didn’t move to change.

“Too many,” he muttered. “Every kind they’ve come out with for migraines. Nothing worked. I have access to every pharmaceutical narcotic I could want, but they never really help. Nothing blocks the pain to the brain; what shuts that off? Oh, that’s before all the various antipsychotics—you might as well be a fucking slug on those. And then it’s just a cocktail, see? Of side effects, different dosages, and bullshit. All of it is just bullshit.”

Because none of it had worked.

The woman standing only a couple of feet away cleared her throat. “If you’re mixing them incorrectly, maybe. I could see how—”

“I got tired of being a guinea pig for a doctor who doesn’t know the way the inside of my head feels seven days a fucking week,” Vas barked, quieting Vera instantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He glared hard at her.

Vera at least had the nerve to stare back. “That you hurt. That it doesn’t get better. I guess that’s the only thing that worked out for me after my accident. The pain got better; or I learned to manage it until it did, anyway.”

Vaslav let out a low, steady exhale before he dropped a few pills back into the container and opted for the one that wouldn’t knock him out. He would get a little bit of that euphoria to take the edge off, though.

“Bottoms up,” he told her.

Vera didn’t blink a lash when he popped back, and swallowed, a Vicodin dry.

“Shouldn’t you be taking something else?” she asked. “Or do you?”

“Like what?”

“Any kind of seizure meds, or something?”

“Why haven’t you changed yet?” he asked instead of answering. At least, the hem of the oversized shirt stopped at her mid-thigh. As she put a hand on her hip, he was given just a peek at the simple white cotton panties she had on underneath.

Vera’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll change when I go to bed.”

“You’ll change right now, or I’ll cut the damn thing off.”

She blinked, her pretty pout falling open at his threat.

Was she listening now?

He sure hoped so.

Vas only smirked. “Spasibo, kisska. Hurry.”

“Go to hell.”

That earned her a scoff as he rested his back to the steps once more and covered his eyes with an arm while the pill settled into his gut. “Oh, Vera ... haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m already there.”

“You’re a real asshole. You know that?”

“Yes, actually, I do. That also changes nothing, including that fucking shirt on your body. Get it off.”

Vera let out a sound of indignation. “It’s just a shirt!”