Free Chaos Tryst by Shirin Dubbin Page B

she wanted her okaasan . Ari wrapped her arms around herself. Actually, she wanted to be held by her okaasan while sucking her thumb and rubbing a blanky against her cheek—and she didn’t even own a blanky.
    Maks’s breathing slowed but his eyes smoldered with barely banked embers. Ari whistled in an effort to relieve the tension. Her phone vibrated and jumpy fingers clicked the hands free on.
    Inari spoke without the benefit of a hello. “Your baba is still out and I remain bored. So yes, I am calling you again. No, it is not separation anxiety.”
    Ari eyed Maks, hoping he’d come back to himself soon. Bending at the knees, the way she would when sneaking away from a job, she crept over to her discarded pack and sagged when she reached it.
    “Oh Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” she whispered after she’d gotten a hold of and fully extended her staff. Her lethality with the weapon and the texture of the wood comforted more than any blanky.
    “What is it, daughter?” Inari asked, concern lacing the question. Gathering power zapped through the connection and coiled around Ari.
    Oops, her mother might kill Maks. Could slay him without difficulty. That would be bad. Ari collected herself, lightening her tone. “Hee hee. Oh nothing. Everything’s copacetic. A good time to be had by all. Happy, happy, joy, joy.”
    “Are you tossing clichés at me?”
    “Hahaha.”
    Inari’s robes rustled and Ari knew she’d stood up. “You sound very much like a lunatic. Should I come for you?”
    “Hahaha.” Ari rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness, but she didn’t know what else to say.
    “It is best you understand, uttering this noise again will make me come to you.”
    One look at Maks as he stood struggling to bring himself under control reordered Ari’s thoughts. He rubbed his eyes, one arm pinned beneath the opposite elbow. The pose exposed vulnerability in him she hadn’t seen. Maks’s unease reconnected her to him, and Ari felt him with the same intensity she had on the Orient Express. Distracted, she barely noticed the swipe of her knuckles across her nose.
    If possible, and if Maks’s distrust of her allowed, she would make life better for him. Ease the torture of the battle between the order he craved and the chaos in his blood.
    In spite of believing her a liar and a thief—a vorovka as he called her—Maksim Medved had protected her the entire night. He’d thumped goblins, opened doors and told her when she was wrong. Sure, he’d gone Armageddon crazy on her, but chaos did that to Faebles. Mostly he’d looked out for her. She would be grossly remiss if she didn’t return the favor.
    In the span of nanoseconds she chose to love Maks. Although the decision had been a century in the making, it crystallized in that moment. Only a strategy to make him see the wisdom of accepting her love remained to be chosen. Oh, how she hoped her affection brought him joy. Rubbing her knuckles against her lower lip, she considered what she knew of the man.
    Ahh. The slinky warmth of chaos on the prowl filled her. She would destroy the fortress around his joy—a corny thought but a needed outcome. Clearly he wanted to laugh. Mirth had tugged at the corners of his mouth several times during their impromptu adventure. He’d batted it aside every time. Returning the favor of his care by giving him more laughter than he could stand impressed Ari as justice.
    That odd mix of glee and nausea reclaimed her.
    And we have nose twitching! Good stuff. He’d scared her momentarily, but in all honesty she was not afraid of him. Ari’s staff retracted to latent length. She feared he’d walk away much more.
    “I’m loaded for bear, Okaasan .”
    “You plan to slay a Medved?”
    A bark of hilarity burst out. “Uh. I meant I’m good to go.”
    “Your clichés have caused my eyes to cross. Yet you imply you are well.” Her mother relaxed and the pressure of Inari’s magick relented. “We do not deceive one another, Kit.”
    “No,