Chapter 15
15
I wake to the scent of breakfast. It takes my sleep-soaked brain a few beats to remember everything that’s happened in the past few days. The murder. The auction. The chase.
Casimir.
I open my eyes. The last thing I remember is falling asleep in the tub, buoyed by the water and held safe by Casimir’s body. Safe. What a joke. But, as I stretch and allow myself a few seconds to relish the ache in my body from the night’s activities, I have to admit an uncomfortable truth.
I do trust him. Not with my family. Not with my city. But with my body.
He could have gone about accomplishing his goals in a thousand different ways, and I don’t think I would have liked any of them. He’s a Romanov , for fuck’s sake. I never would have welcomed him with open arms.
I belatedly realize the shower is running and the room is empty except for a tray on the bed with a covered plate on it.
I could run.
He’d find me eventually, but I could probably get to Carver City before he caught up. Take refuge in my parents’ home. Confess all the shitty choices I’ve made lately. Let them handle my mess.
And maybe start a war that gets my fathers killed... or ends with Casimir dead. I should want that. He’s the enemy. A monster .
But . . . so am I.
Maybe it’s time I faced that truth properly.
I pull the tray to me and pause when the movement doesn’t send strands of rubies slithering over my chest and shoulders. I press my hand to my throat, my stomach dropping as I realize the collar is gone. Relief. That’s what I’m feeling. Right.
To distract myself, I carefully lift the cover from the plate. It’s my favorite breakfast: eggs Benedict. And it’s hot enough that Casimir must have set it down seconds before I woke. I pick up my fork and poke the eggs. He would remember my favorite.
Luke was always attentive. After the jewelry misstep early in our relationship, he seemed to delight in new ways to surprise me with his knowledge of what I liked. It makes even more sense now, knowing that he’s also Wolf, my fucking stalker. Or, rather, he’s Casimir—a combination of the two of them. Or maybe a different animal completely. That’s what I can’t quite figure out.
I don’t register the shower shutting off, but I sure as fuck don’t miss Casimir walking through the door, his skin glistening, a white towel wrapped around his waist.
“You don’t have tattoos,” I blurt.
“What?”
“What kind of Russian mobster are you without tattoos?”
He smirks. “One who can infiltrate any organization or association. My father chose to take a less traditional route with that shit. My uncle doesn’t agree, but I’m too good at what I do for him to argue.”
Too good at lying. Murder. Torture. I’ve heard the stories, just like everyone else. If Jovan Romanov is a boogeyman, the Mad Wolf is his pet, sent out when he wants to make an example of someone.
I take a bite of my eggs, but they taste thick on my tongue. “How am I supposed to trust you when you just told me that?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
I glare. “You are insufferable.”
“Baby.” He drags his hand through his damp hair. “How many times do you need to circle the same fucking subject before you admit it doesn’t matter?”
“Trust is everything.”
“Agreed.” His Russian accent thickens. “When have I hurt you?”
That brings me up short. “Excuse me?”
“When. Have. I. Hurt. You?” He circles the bed, stalking closer. “Do you know what my uncle would have done if his wife fucked one of his enforcers in the middle of a bar where anyone could see?”
I register what he’s saying, but my fool brain clings to one point like a dog with a bone. “I’m not your wife.”
“Not yet.”
His audacity startles a laugh out of me. “Even if you could convince me that you want me , not the Belmonte heir, my fathers would skin you alive before they let you touch me again.”
“Nyet.” He crosses his arms over his chest. The movement makes the towel shift as if it’s about to fall. “Your old men have gone soft, just like all the leaders of Carver City. They will snap and snarl, but they’ll do anything that makes their precious baby girl happy. And I do.”
“Bold of you to assume blackout rage is the same thing as happiness.”
He snorts. “You liked the thoughtful little shit Luke did. You liked playing the dangerous game with Wolf to the point that, if Wolf had been someone else, you would have been confessing your love by the end of the weekend.”
His words echo my thoughts uncomfortably and take them even further. I want to say he’s wrong, but I think I’ve lied enough at this point. And truth be told, it’s not even the lie that’s sticking in my throat.
It’s the fact I could be anyone.
“Not me,” I finally say. “The Belmonte heir.”
Understanding dawns in his pale eyes. “So that’s the sticking point.”
“Hard for it not to be.” I poke at my eggs again before finally pushing the tray away. “You lied to me, and that’s fucked up, but you have a point about there being no innocent parties in this situation. Fine. I’ll agree with that. But you don’t want me , Casimir. You’re just following orders.”
He barks out a sharp laugh. “Baby, the mental gymnastics you’re performing right now is fucking exhausting.”
“The point stands.” I might be able to get past most of the shit—which is fucked up to even contemplate, but I am who I am—except that. I’ll never settle for being chosen because of the role I’ll play, rather than the person I am. Not when the stakes have never been higher.
Casimir eyes the tray. “You didn’t eat enough.”
“If I wanted your opinion on my eating habits, I’d ask for it.”
He curses softly in Russian. “Fine. Let’s get this out.” He flips back the covers and snags my ankle. “I chose you, baby. You, Ruby Belmonte. How many heirs are there in Carver City? Five? Six? It took me all of two seconds to recognize the glint in your eyes. You’re just like me.” He starts to drag me down the bed toward him.
“I’m nothing like you.” I half-heartedly try to kick him, but he catches that ankle too and jerks me to the edge of the mattress, then easily steps between my thighs. I prop myself up on my elbows and glare. “I might like fucking you. I might have loved Luke. That doesn’t mean I’m some kind of kindred spirit.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He strokes his hands up to my knees and slides me until my ass is nearly hanging off the bed. “But the fact remains that you are like me, baby. Violent and selfish and willing to use other people as your toys.”
I flinch. “That’s cruel.”
“That’s reality.” He squeezes my thighs, pressing them a little wider. “Last night, you were fantasizing about me killing those two while they fucked you. It made you come harder.”
I almost lie, but he’ll know if I do. “Fantasy is not reality. I’m glad you didn’t hurt them.”
Casimir cups my pussy, his palm rough and possessive. “One day you’ll be territory leader, Ruby. Violence is part of the role, and if your parents haven’t prepared you for that, it’s on them.”
They may have sheltered me to some degree, but I hid from the truth too. Not because I’m afraid of violence; it’s more that responsibility gives me hives. What a selfish little brat I’ve been. I can’t think with his hand on me, his fingers sliding through my folds. “What’s your point?”
“My point”—he spears me with two fingers, then fucks me slowly—“is that with me by your side, you’ll be safe. The pair of us will be unstoppable.”
Pleasure slows my thoughts, his words and touch seducing me. “You can’t just... fuck me into... submission,” I finally manage.
“No.” He grins suddenly, and it hits me in the chest like a freight train: that’s Luke’s smile, rueful and a little mischievous. Casimir twists his wrist and curls his fingers against my G-spot. “But that won’t stop us from enjoying each attempt.”
I need him to stop touching me so I can think clearly. I need him to never stop touching me, to keep fucking me until I’m wrung out and empty. “This will never work.”
“Baby, it’s already working.” He tugs off his towel, and then his cock is there, splitting me in half, one agonizing inch at a time. He brackets my hips with his hands, holding me down as he fucks me in shallow strokes, each one a little deeper than the last. “You loved me once as Luke. You’ll love me better as I really am.”
“No.” But I don’t know what I’m protesting anymore. My heart is all twisted, and I don’t know which way is down anymore. Did I think I was in a free fall before? What a joke.
In desperation, I arch up and hook the back of his neck. He allows me to tug him down so I can take his mouth, and the moment our tongues slide against each other, it’s as if I’ve snapped a leash that I wasn’t even aware held him back.
He bears me back to the bed, his mouth harsh and demanding on me. Casimir isn’t going slow now. He’s pulling me to him, his hands on my neck, my spine, my ass, as he drives into me, as if he’s tattooing his ownership under my skin.
I meet him halfway. I drag my nails down his back and dig them into his ass, urging him to go deeper, to go harder. It’s a frenzy. There’s no other way to put it. As if all the pent-up rage and confusion and hurt is distilled into this moment of fucking. And yet it’s not as simple as that. This is a moment of knowing . Of understanding.
Of recognition.
One monster acknowledging another.
He switches up his strokes, grinds against me in exactly the way I need. I bite his bottom lip. He squeezes my ass hard enough to bruise, his fingers finding the scrapes from last night and sparking new pinpricks of pain. The contrast with the agonizing pleasure of his cock sends me hurtling over the edge.
Casimir keeps my orgasm going, wave after wave crashing over me until my muscles give out. Only then does he retreat. I make a sound of protest, but he doesn’t go far. He flips me onto my stomach, and there’s a faint rustle as he grabs a bottle of lube. “It’s time, baby.”
We’ve never done anal before. I’d had a bad experience with a previous partner and wasn’t interested in trying it again with Luke and his giant cock—and doing it right now feels like a promise I’m not sure I can keep. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Liar.” He cups my ass, squeezing my cheeks the same way he did before. There’s no plug this time, but my body clenches. “You didn’t answer my question before.”
I’m having a hard time thinking straight. “What question?”
“Have I ever hurt you, Ruby?” He presses a lubed-up finger to my ass and eases it inside. Testing me.
“You’re about to.” I don’t really believe that, though. If I did, I wouldn’t be quivering with pure anticipation for what comes next. Fucking Casimir has been a life-changing experience, even though I’d die before I’d admit that aloud. We’ve trampled over boundaries I thought I had, and there’s been more pleasure than I could have ever dreamed.
“Ruby.” He stops the delicious, careful stroking. “Answer.”
I curse, but he’s not moving, and I want this too badly to use a safe word to end it. “Fine. No. You haven’t hurt me. You bruised my pride. I hate that you lied to me for so long. But you’ve never hurt my body.”
He resumes his careful finger fucking. “I won’t hurt you this time either.”
“Prove it.”
He eases his finger from my ass, and then his cock is there. It feels obscenely large compared to anything he’s inserted to date, and I tense.
“Relax, baby.” He strokes me with his hands, soothing me even as he presses forward. His cock stretches me. Even with the lube and prep, it burns. It’s not bad , though. Just strange.
Casimir curses softly and stops the forward motion. I don’t expect him to lean forward, press his body to mine. He wraps me up in him and slides one hand down to my pussy. “Relax.”
“Can’t,” I pant. It feels like I’m being impaled. But also not. It hurts, and yet there’s a pressure building around that fullness that is pure pleasure. My brain can’t process the conflicting feelings. Then he starts circling my clit, and it all gets so much more confusing. I moan and shake, which only makes it more achingly obvious that his cock is in my ass. But not even close to his whole length. “Casimir.”
“I’ve got you.” He’s not moving anything except his fingers, the intoxicating circles causing pleasure to override my nerves. He kisses my throat, the back of my neck. “It was only ever going to be you, baby.”
“What?”
He keeps up that slow circling even as his hips shift, pressing his cock a little more into me. This time, I don’t tense in response. The penetration is extreme, but the more I relax into it, the better it feels. I tilt my head to give him better access to my throat.
Casimir sets his teeth there. “First time I saw you properly was at the Tower. You were on the dance floor wearing a bikini and dancing as if it was your last night on earth.”
I arch a little, taking him deeper. I know the night he means. “Foam party.”
“Yeah.” His fingers are soaked with me, and he dips to press them inside before bringing them back to my clit. “You were drunk off your ass. There was a guy fingering you right there in front of everyone.”
I had just moved out and was determined to make the most of my freedom. Up until that point, I’d only hooked up with truly safe people, and I was out-of-my-mind jealous of Michelle, who’d been going through bedroom partners the same way she goes through lipstick colors. I wanted to be wild and free, but I needed alcohol to get me there.
He strokes deeper into me, and I’m startled to feel his hips against my ass. He’s seated fully inside me. I tense, but he doesn’t immediately start fucking me. He allows me to adjust to the stretch of him, still fingering my pussy and kissing my neck. Still spilling low words into my ear. “You were so beautiful when you came, baby. I wanted to be the one to cause it.”
I can barely concentrate past what he’s doing to me. “I intended to go home with him.”
“I know.”
I go still. “He disappeared after that. Went to get a drink and never came back.”
“Yeah.”
Suspicion takes root. “Did you kill him?”
“No.” He chuckles in my ear. “I just... dissuaded... him from going to find you again.”
That could mean literally anything. “I don’t even remember how I got home that night.” I kept drinking and blacked out. Michelle was furious at me because apparently she’d turned around and I was gone. I squirm, relishing the feel of his cock inside me. “Was it you?”
“Yes. Eto bylo” He nips my earlobe. “You called me an angel and told me you loved me as I tucked you into bed.”
Humiliation threatens to drown me. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s okay, baby. I remember for both of us.” He keeps circling my clit as he starts to move, easing out of me and then thrusting slowly back into my ass. “That’s the night I knew you were mine. It was never going to be anyone else.”
I don’t know if that’s really creepy or romantic, but I’ll figure it out later. My body tightens with an impending orgasm even more intense than the last one. “Casimir,” I moan.
“Breathe, baby. Just breathe.” He doesn’t pick up his pace, doesn’t rush, doesn’t do anything but stalk my orgasm as carefully as he’s apparently been stalking me for years. “I always take care of what’s mine.”
I come. I don’t stand a chance of holding out, and I wasn’t even trying. Not this time.
Through it all, he keeps fucking me, murmuring how good I feel, how he loves to feel me come on his cock, how perfect my ass, my cunt, my body is. When I finally collapse onto the bed, too wrung out to move, he shifts back and grips my hips. Only then does he carefully pick up his pace until he’s driving into my ass in short, controlled thrusts. Even after coming so hard, I can’t help arching my back again, offering my ass to him, urging him to keep going. It feels so fucking good.
Everything he does to me feels good.
He pulls out abruptly and growls something in Russian as he comes all over my ass.
Then he scoops me up and hauls me to the shower. My legs are still wonky, so he sets me on the bench there as he gets the water going. I watch him dazedly. It feels like we left the real world behind, but that’s probably the endorphins lying to me. “This doesn’t solve anything.”
He sighs. “Baby, it’s simple. You love me. You’re too pissed to admit it right now, but it’s the truth.” He continues right over my shrill protest. “And I love you too. I don’t know how many fucking ways to say it: you’re mine. You were from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Casimir.” I suddenly feel like crying. “Even if that were true, it will never work. I don’t even know what you’re trying to accomplish. Carver City will never accept Romanov rule.”
He tugs me to my feet and beneath the spray. “Don’t give a fuck about Romanov rule. But I’m going to marry you, baby. You’re the heir. You rule. I’ll be your bloody right hand. Satisfies all parties.”
“Just like that.”
“No reason to complicate shit.” He catches my chin, his pale eyes somehow both chilled and heated at the same time. “You might not be ready to admit it, but you already made your decision. The other day. When you kept fucking me after you knew who I was. When you played primal games to taunt me. It’s just your pride holding you up right now.”
At this point, I don’t know if he’s right or not. I don’t know anything at all. Instead of answering or protesting or lying , I kiss him.