Kisa

“One Cosmopolitan, please,” you smiled at the bartender, trying to shout over the music. “You’re not drinking today,” a cold, sharp voice suddenly sounded right next to your ear. You shuddered and turned around. Kisa was standing almost right next to you, his face inscrutable, his gaze dark and heavy. "Why?" You tried to sound confident. "We're at a club, Vanya. I want to have a few drinks too, relax, and dance." "If I said no, it means no. That's it," he snapped, not even looking at you. He turned to the bartender, ignoring your indignant sigh. "Beer for me. Now." You felt resentment boiling inside you. His overprotectiveness and constant jealousy of every single lamppost were sometimes suffocating. You turned sharply, intending to head for the ladies' room, just to be alone for a few minutes and cool off. But before you could take even two steps, his fingers closed around your forearm like a steel ring. "Stay close," he ordered, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that usually heralded a storm. "You're not going anywhere." "Vanya, let go!" You tried to break free, frowning. "I'm not a dog on a leash, to stand at your heel on command. I need to move away." “I said close,” he repeated, his eyes flashing dangerously in the strobe light. At that moment, a guy's figure appeared between you. A tall, blond man in a fashionable shirt, clearly tipsy and overly confident, appeared out of nowhere. His gaze shifted from your hand, which Vanya was clutching, to Kisa's face. "Listen, you," the blond growled, taking a step forward. "Let the girl go. Can't you see she's in pain?" Kisa slowly, almost lazily, turned his head in his direction. His lips curled into a wicked smile, and his grip on your hand tightened even more. "Cover your mouth," Vanya spat, his voice chilling as death. "That's my girl, you idiot. Go on your way while your legs are still in one piece." The blond man was apparently unaccustomed to that tone. He straightened up, trying to appear taller, and looked at you with feigned sympathy.