VIKTOR TARASOV
Pastel pink flowers decorated the entire length of the gravestone before me, the sharp black letters etched into the headstone barely managing to peek through the mountain of flowers my cousin had gifted my mother. He claimed it was one of her many wishes, but we were never close enough for me to know that.
Zoya Tarasova.
I exhaled a deep breath, puffing out smoke between my lips. Months later, and I still waited for the deep-seated sadness to hit me like a train, but I felt...nothing.
"You shouldn't smoke in front of your mother," a rough voice spoke behind me, the sound of snow crunching underneath my cousin's weight accompanying the sound as he drew closer to me. "It's disrespectful."
"You would know more about that," I finally spoke when he stood next to me. I shrugged a shoulder lightly. "I'm used to being the disappointing son, after all. I'm sure she doesn't expect much of me, especially in the afterlife."
It was no news that my cousin was more of a son to my mother than I ever was. It was rather ironic, considering the fact that I got along with his father better than him, prior to a few months ago. It was something they were actively working on, and well, my mother was six feet under.
One word. Ironic.
"You don't know that," Aleksei grumbled, kicking out a pebble with the toe of his boots.
I slid him a look from the corner of my eyes, my lips slightly tipping up with amusement. "You don't have to play the mediator. Our relationship was a rather tricky one."
"Did you ever hate her?"
I returned my gaze to the pink flowers—her favorite color—cocking my head to the side slightly. "No," the monosyllabic response slipped out of my lips without a thought.
"No?" Shock radiated off Aleksei's question.
"No," I repeated, much firmer this time, because indeed, I never hated my mother.
As I said to Aleksei, our relationship was a tricky one. She might have tried to love me in her own capacity, but it was just never enough. I didn't hold a grudge for that, partially because I couldn't bring myself to care after a while.
"She thought you hated her."
"I know."
A comfortable silence fell between us, each man lost in his own thoughts. I took drag after drag from the cigar between my lips, exhaling the smoke from between my lips even though it was 'disrespectful'.
Why the fuck was I even here in the cold, forcibly trying to bring myself to feel sadness, when I hadn't even felt that when Aleksei first delivered the news to me?
Maybe it was because that was what any good son would feel. Maybe I was just trying to be good to her one last time.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
I snorted to myself. It was all fruitless, anyway. She was dead. And I was here. Both of us still walking parallel paths that would never cross.
"I heard your prey finally woke up," Aleksei broke the silence with a statement laced with unadulterated pity.
I nodded once, a faint smile touching my lips. "Ah, yes. But she's no prey. Nothing of the sort."
"What then would you call a woman unlucky enough to be the object of your attention?"
"Special."
A mocking laughter escaped from deep within his guts. "Eat shit. You're not God's gift to women."
I rolled my eyes. "I beg to differ. But regardless, I was merely speaking the truth. She's not special because she has my attention. She has my attention because she's special."
Another mocking laughter at my expense. "Whatever the fuck that means."
"She's not unlucky, either. I'm not going to hurt her."
"Suddenly developing a moral compass? Color me intrigued, after all the countless women you've killed."
"That was just business. It was necessary."
"And this is different?"
"Very much so."
He eyed me curiously. "What do you plan to do with her?"
There came the tricky part of this fucked up, ongoing mess. "I have no clue yet."
"No clue? Weren't you the one that said no plan is never a good plan? You used to sing that shit into my ears all the time."
"And look at the structured man you turned out to be. I deserve some credit for your upbringing."
"Yeah, fuck no. We're not deflecting." He turned so we were looking at each other eye-to-eye, probably trying to get a clue of where my head was at. "What do you plan to do with the woman?"
"It has nothing to do with you, Alyosha. I'd stay out of my business if I were you. The same way I stayed out of yours back then."
"Again with the deflecting."
"I'm not deflecting. I'm telling you to fuck off," I told him point-black, my patience and amusement completely drained.
"You're about to make the stupidest decision of your entire life because you want to fuck her."
"Watch it," I warned, shouldering past him to get closer to my mother's headstone.
"No, you watch it," he growled at my back. "You're going to ruin that woman. I've seen her. She's no more than a fragile thing. I doubt she could withstand your intensity. Why don't you carry on with that whore you've always been with?"
I whipped around to face him. "The same way Ariana could withstand yours?" I taunted deliberately, despite knowing that was an extremely sore spot for him.
Months had passed, and the miserable fucker still hadn't healed.
"Fuck you," he spat acidly, glaring at me with his nostrils flared.
"Your hypocrisy is showing, cousin," I mocked him. "Where was all your thought for fragility when you were fucking her?"
"I wasn't talking about sex, you dumb fuck. At least, Ari–" He paused, his teeth grinding together. "At least, she had an inkling of what she was getting into. This woman doesn't. Plus, you're rather hands-on with the dirty side of the business. That was something I made a conscious effort to avoid while we were still married. Isn't it rather selfish of you to bring that woman into this?"
"I am selfish," I answered honestly, my brows furrowed in thought. Why would he possibly think otherwise? "I never claimed to be anything but that."
He threw a hand up in the air in defeat. "Yeah, whatever. Suit yourself. Sate your cock."
"It seems like you need to educate yourself, Alyosha." I stroked the headstone fondly, drumming my fingers atop the cold marble. "If this was about sex, I wouldn't even have blinked twice in her direction. "
"So, you actually like her?" My cousin's jaw hit the ground in disbelief.
I chuckled, tossing my half-smoked cigar to the floor. "Like? What are we, children?"
His brows furrowed slightly. "What do you want with her then?"
Easy.
I crushed the cigar with the sole of my shoe, adjusting my trench coat on my shoulders. "I'm going to make her mine. And no one is going to stop me."
Not even her.