“But for us, it means she will be wife, and I show her how Russian men rot their wives.” His voice became an octave deeper. “Unless you want this now, Medvezhonok?” “Rot?” I asked, trying not to focus on the wife aspect of what he’d said. It was safer for my cheeks that way. “Da,” he said. “Like rotten fruit. We spoil, no?” He turned to Jace. “This is American saying, da?”
