Page 44 of The Breath Before Forever

“Stop it, Vaslav—let me talk!”

Vera swung around on him fast—her hands up and ready to shove him back if need be—but his body acted like a brick wall. No one, and certainly not her, would be getting though him anytime soon. Right there in the threshold of their bedroom, he blocked her in and made it clear by the way his hands flattened to either side of the doorjamb that he would not be moving. All the while, he said nothing, but he didn’t have to when his actions spoke loud enough for the both of them. Like an animal backed into a corner with no escape, all she could do was stare up at him, horrified that he would treat her in such a way.

Her desire to talk was practically nil.

“Move,” she told him.

Vaslav teeth grinded, his jaw sliding back and forth each time, but his gaze didn’t break away from hers. What she found there stung. The way he could make a person feel so insignificant under his pensive stare couldn’t be matched.

The man was a pro.

“I will move,” he told her, that tense jaw of his still working over that anger like gnawing down the enamel on his teeth would make it all go away, “when you piss on one of those fuckin’ sticks.”

At that, Vera took a step back.

“I’m not pregnant,” she said honestly.

Vaslav jerked his chin upward at her, muttering right back, “Yeah, and I’ll know it when I see it. Go take a test.”

Her genuineness meant nothing. It sure didn’t help their current situation, or the bull of a man blocking her exit from the bedroom. She was slightly less concerned about that part of what was happening at the moment, but only because something wasn’t right.

Vaslav could be a prick.

An asshole on his good days.

Blunt honesty was his best friend, and even better when it hurt. The truth usually did, anyways, according to him.

What he never did was manhandle Vera. Not outside of their intimacy; he rarely did more than raise his voice. Oh, they had snippy moments. When she could rile him up enough for a proper argument, those were some of the best conversations the two had ever had together. She loved him best when he was grumpy and willing to hold a conversation that included more than grunts for replies.

She loved him all the time in between, too.

He didn’t shove her, though—never just made her do things, whether that meant bringing him tea or moving her across the fucking room. This wasn’t like Vaslav.

Not with her.

Something was wrong. It had to be more than just him discovering pregnancy tests if this was how he treated her because of it.

Vaslav pointed at the light streaming into the dimly lit bedroom—as usual, he’d pulled all the curtains to keep the space cloaked in chilly darkness—from the connecting bathroom. “I’m not going to tell you to do it again.”

Vera could have said a lot of things in response to that thinly veiled threat. She should have, definitely. Instead, she decided to draw an invisible line in between herself and her husband, and then she gave him the option to cross it with her next question

“Or what?” she asked. “Are you going to make me take a pregnancy test for you? Will you stand there and hold it for me, too, Vas?”

His sneer came off cold when he replied, “Is that what’d you like to do? We can—da? You’re barely a hundred and thirty-five pounds when you’re soaking wet.”

The last words hissed out of his mouth.

Vera stood a little straighter.

“Get real. You’re being ridiculous.”

Maybe she slung that insult at him one too many times, and it did nothing for him anymore to snap Vaslav out of his behavior. He loosened his stance in the doorway, and even folded his arms over his chest while he stared her down. His eyebrow cocked with a silent challenge she heard well while the plastic bag with what remained of Hannah’s unused pregnancy tests swung in his grip.

Try me—his posture screamed it.

Vera had enough.

“Give me them,” she said, reaching for the bag.