12. Sasha
SASHA
T he sound of the howling wind reverberates around me, but it doesn’t feel cold.
In fact, it’s warm.
So warm that I bury my face in the pillow and moan softly at the welcoming embrace. In an instant, it feels as if I’m back to happier times in my life.
Times when Mama would hug me to sleep, Papa would kiss my forehead, and Anton would tease me about being a baby.
Times I took for granted, oblivious to the bleak reality fate had prepared for me.
So I burrow further into the warmness of the pillow, inhaling deeply and engraving every detail to memory.
Then I pause when I notice something hard against my head. In fact, the firm surface is glued to my whole body. A pillow isn’t supposed to feel like steel.
Slowly, I open my eyes. The moment I understand the situation, a wordless gasp spills from my lips.
Turns out, the pillow isn’t a pillow, after all, and I am, in fact, cocooned in Kirill’s arms.
I tilt my chin up to catch a glimpse of his sleeping face. The hard lines of his jaw are shadowed by the early morning light slipping through the window.
The storm is still blazing outside, but it’s not dark, or maybe not as dark as anyone would expect.
His lashes are quite thick, and so are his brows. I have an undeniable compulsion pushing me to touch them, just to see how they feel.
As I lift my hand, he tightens his arm on my middle. It’s the same arm he threw over me last night, and he hasn’t changed his position, not even an inch. I’m the one who turned in his direction and practically hugged him back.
My hand pauses near his face.
What am I doing?
Kirill is my captain and benefactor. He saved my life because, as he said, he’s not the type who’d leave any of his men behind. Not only that, but he also agreed to keep my identity a secret and didn’t probe for the actual reason I assumed another gender.
Am I in awe of him due to gratefulness? I can’t even look away from his face or attempt to pull away from him.
No. It’s not really gratefulness, but more like an intense version of that feeling of uneasiness I have whenever he’s around. Only, now, it’s accompanied by a dangerous impulse. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay in this position for a bit longer.
Without touching him, my hand hovers in the air as I trace my fingers over his brows, the straight line of his nose, the contour of his cheekbones, and the dark shadow forming on his hard jawline.
My forefinger pauses when I reach his mouth. These lips were so close to mine that I couldn’t breathe properly.
That feeling has come back again, and I find myself constricted, hot, and abnormally bothered. Even the dull pain in my shoulder throbs and stings.
I shift and accidentally, or not really, inch closer to him, but then I come to a jolting halt.
Something hard and massive stabs the bottom of my belly. At first, I think there’s an object between us, so I move my stomach up and down, but the ‘object’ grows in size.
Holy shit.
It’s his…dick.
And it’s erect and huge .
My ears heat, and my fingers that are hovering in the air tremble. Tracing his face is the last thing on my mind now that I’m being poked by his boner.
This is highly inappropriate and has the potential to screw over any professional relationship we might have had. No, it wasn’t the best, and we had our differences, but it was always ‘proper.’ Strained but right.
It didn’t help that I was more often than not uncomfortable and wary around him.
But this…this…is an entirely different beast.
The right thing to do would be to leave the bed before he wakes up and save us each from the awkwardness.
That’s what my brain tells me, anyway. But do I listen? Not really.
I’m more fascinated and interested in the current display of the male anatomy. I know it’s natural and by no means due to my presence, but it did get harder when I moved, so maybe I had some effect, after all?
Just to make sure, I lean closer, subtly rubbing my stomach up and down. Once again, his cock thickens against me.
I don’t stop.
I can’t .
I keep wondering how big it can get, and I’m rewarded by the twitchiness against my skin.
Yes, we’re clothed, but it doesn’t feel that way right now.
My belly flutters, and a sudden zap of pleasure shoots between my legs. I have to place a hand on my mouth to stop whatever sound from coming out.
“You better be aware of what you’re doing or I swear to fuck…”
I come to a halt, my breath catching, and a cold sweat breaks out all over my skin.
Icy blue eyes clash with mine, and I have nowhere to go or hide. All I can do is remain here, motionless and feeling every beat of my heart thundering against my rib cage.
The scenario I dreaded earlier comes crashing down with more of an impact than I anticipated.
I can’t breathe or think as he fixates me with those eyes that could be mistaken for weapons of mass destruction.
“So you are awake.” The husky timbre of his sleepy voice carries in the air and gets stuck between us.
His large hand flexes on my hip, and I can almost feel his skin sinking so deeply into me that I couldn’t shake it off even if I wanted to.
“And here I thought you were moving in your sleep.” There’s a slight amusement in his voice, and if I weren’t so mortified, I’d swear it sounds sadistic in nature.
“I…I was.” I lie through my teeth and don’t sound convincing in the least.
“Is that so? I’m almost sure you were doing it on purpose.”
My cheeks heat, and I start to lower my head. In a flash, he lifts my chin with his index and middle fingers.
This time, I have no escape from the cold depths of his punishing gaze. It strikes me then that the reason behind my unease has always been these eyes.
They hide more than they show. They’re secretive, cruel, and hold not an ounce of empathy or mercy.
It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking about or plotting, let alone try to evade him.
“ Were you doing it on purpose, Sasha?” The edge beneath his words leaves me breathless. It’s almost as if he knows the exact corner he’s driven me to and is now coming for the knockout.
It doesn’t help that a jolt travels through me whenever he calls me Sasha. It’s new and sounds intimate whenever he says it.
“No.” My voice is barely a whisper, but it’s calm and collected—nothing of the nervousness from earlier, as if I actually believe my words.
“Are you sure?”
My heart lunges, reacting to the insistence in his voice. I’m so close to divulging my intention for no other reason than to see the reaction he’ll have. I stop at the knowledge that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I demolished the wall between us.
I can’t afford to be stuck in Kirill’s web with everything that’s resting on my shoulders.
I simply can’t afford to be distracted.
So I nod.
The moment I do, it’s like I’ve removed a spell.
Kirill releases my jaw and lifts his hand off my waist. I can see the closing off of his face as he says, “Very well.”
He rolls to the other side of the bed and gets up in one swift movement. I try to catch a glimpse of his face, but he’s completely sealed himself off as the strict, unapproachable captain.
A knock on the door startles me, then Nadia’s voice follows, “Are you up?”
“Yes, one moment.” I start to stumble out of bed.
“No need to hurry. Just come out for breakfast and your shot whenever you’re ready.”
“Will do, thanks!”
As Nadia’s voice and presence disappear, so has Kirill. He vanished into the en-suite bathroom while I was talking to her.
My feet itch to follow after and try to clear the air, but what’s the point? It’s better this way.
I did the right thing.
At least, I hope so.
After I put on the dress and tights Nadia left on the chair for me, I wash my face in the guest bathroom down the hall. It takes me more time than necessary since I have to stop every now and then due to the pain in my shoulder.
Once I deem myself presentable enough, I go to meet the old couple.
Like last night, Nadia doesn’t allow me to help and, instead, gives me some medication. The shot, too, of course. I nearly cry waiting for the ordeal to be over.
“You’ve improved so fast,” Nicholas comments as he begrudgingly lets me help him in setting the table.
“She’s young and strong,” Nadia replies while bringing some toast.
“I think the will is everything.” He smiles at me as my uncle would. “You definitely have a strong will, young lady. Protect it with everything you have.”
“My father told me to stay alive. Everything else can be fixed as long as I’m alive,” I say and resist the tears that well in my eyes.
“Those are wise words,” Nicholas says.
I wish he’d been wise enough to stay alive.
“Oh, you’re here. Let’s sit down for breakfast.” Nadia ushers Kirill to the seat beside me, and for some reason, I hold my breath for a moment too long.
He’s in black pants and a light blue button-down that molds against his pecs and biceps. And he’s wearing those glasses again that make him look tamer than he actually is.
He thanks Nadia for the food and compliments Nicholas on a chair he made himself.
But he doesn’t look at me or address me. Not even once. He’s subtle about it, too. It’s not that he’s glaring at me or treating me differently.
Maybe I’m imagining things. After all, this is just him being himself. He’s the same Kirill I’ve come to know during the past couple of months.
I may have gotten a glimpse of a change in him during this ordeal, but that might simply be me trying to see a human side of him.
And failing.
* * *
“Do you even know how to use that?”
I lift my head at Nadia’s voice. I’ve been kind of acting like her inexperienced apprentice in the kitchen, and she’s been letting me.
Despite her stern appearance and her merciless needles, Nadia is a kind woman with a natural talent as a caregiver, which makes her the best type of nurse.
I put the knife down and smile awkwardly. I do know how to use it, but only in combat, not in the kitchen.
Nadia, who’s dressed in a lively green apron, shakes her head and takes over the task.