From Russia With Claws by Molly Harper, Jacey Conrad Read Free Book Online

feelings.”
    She took Irina’s cool hand in hers. “Sergei was horrible to you. You were miserable. Now he’s dead, and you have the chance at being happy. If you waste that because you’re feeling guilty, I’m going to have to beat your ass like when we were kids.”
    Galina knew her sister would need time to grieve, maybe not for Sergei, but for the life she had made with him. But that didn’t mean Irina had to forget what being married to him had been like. It was possible to be sad and relieved at the same time.
    “Okay, first of all, you had werewolf strength on your side,” Irina sniped, pointing her finger in Galina’s face. Galina snapped her teeth lightly, a mock warning. Irina flicked her nose and she growled playfully at her sister.
    “And second, I don’t feel guilty right now. I feel sad and numb, like I shouldn’t feel anything. Not because I’m in mourning, or because I’m going to miss Sergei. I’m sad because the last few years of my life seem like such a waste. Scared because I don’t know what my role is now and I’m afraid of how that might change. But mostly, I’m grateful because it’s over…Wait, no, I lied, there’s the guilt.”
    Galina reached casually over the counter and smacked Irina’s arm. She needed to stop with the feeling bad for having feelings.
    “Ow!”
    Franny nudged the cinnamon roll on Irina’s plate in front of her. “Eat.”
    When Irina balked, Galina gave her a mock glare, watching as her sister began to take apart the roll in a semblance of eating.
    “It’s all over the news, Rina,” Galina continued, digging into her second cinnamon roll. Good God, Franny could bake. These things were like heaven on a plate. “And Papa’s beside himself, worrying about you here alone. Unless you’re willing to move back into your old room, you better just accept whatever muscle he sends your way.”
    “If the muscle looks like that one, I would just say thank you and send your father a gift card or a fruit basket or something,” Franny said, with a grin and a gesture toward Viktor.
    Galina laughed. Viktor was attractive, but he didn’t hold a candle to Andrey. As soon as she thought it, she wanted to smack herself. She did not need to be thinking of him right now.
    “Franny,” Irina hiss-whispered. “Werewolf hearing!”
    “Oh, come on, a man like that knows he’s hot. With his werewolf nose, he can probably smell the pheromones rolling off of us.” Franny gave Irina a get real look and dug into her cinnamon roll.
    “Anyway,” Galina said, tossing Franny a grin, “the next couple of days are going to be a cavalcade of nitwittery. The funeral will be held on Friday. Mama Anya has already called Papa to let him know the arrangements have been made at Kandinsky’s.”
    “Wow, she works fast,” Irina said softly. Galina watched her sister’s expression turn thoughtful. Irina seemed to come to a decision after a few moments. “Let her have it. A man should be buried by someone who loves him, even an asshole like Sergei. I’m not going to fight it.”
    “I figured you’d be all noble about it.” Galina nodded. “And it does give Nik and Alexei time to get home. Nik says he loves you and as soon as this shit-storm passes, we are going to party like it’s New Year’s.”
    “That seems so wrong.” Irina sighed. “But I have the feeling I’m going to need it.”
    “Well, now that we’ve discussed the trivial stuff, let’s focus on what’s important.” Franny sniffed. “What are you going to wear to the funeral?”
    Irina grinned and Galina glimpsed a hint of the not-so-good sister that she remembered from her youth poking through the volk zhena shell. “Well, Sergei always did like me in red.”

    Viktor was in the kitchen when Galina came back downstairs from Irina’s bedroom. “How’s Mrs. Volkov?”
    “She’s picking out a scandalous dress for the funeral,” Galina answered, going immediately to the coffeepot and pouring herself a