Chapter 12 Anika
ANIKA
Icy terror floods my veins as soon as the knives come out. Memories of the fight between Pyotr and Miko flash through my mind, and I freeze, unable to react, even though I know I’m too close to the violence.
I’m in harm’s way, but I can’t seem to make my limbs move.
All I can think about is the hot crimson liquid that feels like acid splattered across my throat and chest.
Then a firm, powerful arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back. Miko’s distinct, masculine scent floods my nose as he draws me close before turning to tuck me safely behind him.
Even then, he keeps one hand on my hip, as if to track my exact location at all times.
I can’t even see the conflict past his towering wall of muscles, and a wave of gratitude washes through me as my deer-in-the-headlights terror eases.
Miko stepped in to protect me without a second thought, using his own body to shield mine.
Pyotr never would have shown that kind of concern for my well-being.
In truth, if I got caught in the crosshairs of a conflict, I doubt my former husband would have noticed—let alone cared.
My heart hammers as I watch Miko rein in the chaos with astonishing ease.
The sound of a gun cocking echoes through the dead silence. “Go ahead, make one more move,” he warns, his deep baritone vibrating into the very marrow of my bones, and I shiver with his calm intensity.
His men haven’t even reached the commotion, but both of Pyotr’s squabbling ex-captains stand frozen in place, as if they don’t dare move a muscle and anger Miko.
It’s the strangest sense of relief, to witness the iron hold he has on the world around us.
Suddenly, I understand why he said marrying him would keep me safe.
No one, not even Pyotr’s men, would risk openly defying Miko.
He is a man without fear. Or mercy.
And now, he’s my husband.
Chiaroscuro men converge on the two brawling Russians, restraining them before the fight can get any more bloody. And just like that, the conflict is over.
“Get them out of my sight,” Miko commands.
The ex-captains protest as they’re dragged from the room, and the tense silence that follows hangs heavily in the air.
My heart continues to flutter, my pulse erratic despite the danger being over.
“Miko?” Gio murmurs, stepping up beside his brother.
Miko bristles, his grip on my waist tightening, and he tucks me further behind him as if triggered by the instinct to protect me even from his brother.
Gio raises his palms in a show of surrender, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as his gaze flicks curiously in my direction.
“Party’s over,” Miko growls darkly.
As if on cue, the guests start to filter from the ballroom, an eerie hush settling arounds us as they go. Miko’s brothers escort them out, thanking several of the guests for coming as the Chiaroscuro men ensure they find the exit.
As soon as the room is clear, Miko turns to face me, and the thunderous look on his face steals the breath from my lungs.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his deep voice vibrating through my core as genuine concern flashes across his face.
It’s only then that I realize I’m shaking. A high-pitched ringing floods my ears, and as I suck in the first lungful of oxygen in I don’t know how long, I suddenly feel lightheaded.
The dizziness only intensifies as I try to nod.
Miko’s brow buckles into a look of distress. Slowly, tenderly, he reaches out to take my hand.
And with his other arm snaking firmly around my waist, he holds me up as if he can tell how close I am to collapse.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says softly, steering me gently toward the hall.
I let him lead me, still overwhelmed by the shock of what just happened and the unrelenting flashbacks that invade my mind.
I’ve spent so long pushing down my emotions, building up a dam to hold back the memories I can’t handle.
But it feels like, with Pyotr’s death, all my coping mechanisms have been blown wide open, and now I can’t stop the onslaught of fear and pain that crashes down on me like waves along a rocky shore.
I’m so lost in the vivid recollections of cruelty and violence, I don’t even notice where Miko’s taking me until the doors to the master suite close behind us.
My old bedroom.
The bed I shared with Pyotr still occupies the center of the spacious room, and a cold trickle of dread settles in my stomach.
It’s the first time I’ve been in here since Miko killed my husband—former husband.
Miko holds that title now.
No doubt tonight, my new husband will expect me to sleep with him. To consummate the marriage.
The tremors come hard and fast now, a shaking so uncontrollable, it rattles my teeth and vibrates in my bones.
I know Miko must hear the chattering because he glances down at me like I’m a bomb that could detonate at any moment.
“I think you’re in shock. Let’s draw you a hot bath,” he suggests, guiding me toward the bathroom.
Again, I nod, unsure of how else to respond with the fear that’s formed a block of ice around my heart.
In the bathroom, Miko stations me beside the counter, placing my hand on its cool stone surface so I can grip it for support.
Then he goes to turn on the tub’s hot water, leaving me unattended for only a fraction of a moment.
Raking in a shuddering breath, I reach up to remove the comb of my veil from my hair.
I set it carefully on the countertop, then reach behind me to start undoing my dress.
But my fingers are trembling so badly, I can’t seem to separate the silk buttons from their loops.
As Miko turns to watch me, his eyes soften. “Let me help you,” he suggests, straightening to step behind me.
A jolt of electricity crackles up my arms, warming my skin as his fingers brush past mine.
I gasp, snatching my hands away as if removing them from a hot stove.
I don’t quite know what to make of my body’s reaction to Miko’s touch.
At this point, though, it’s happened enough times that I know it’s not a coincidence.
And as his thick fingers slide inside the back of my dress, a shiver races down my spine.
My pulse flutters, making me sway dizzily as he undresses me one button at a time.
I can’t believe I’m letting him.
But I don’t know what else to do right now.
The only way I’m going to stay on my feet is if I brace my palms against the counter. I’m so cold, I’m desperate for anything that will thaw my bones, and I can’t get into the water still wearing my wedding dress.
Miko finishes loosening my buttons, and his warm palms find my shoulders as he guides the thin straps down my arms.
Despite the simplicity of the dress, it’s quite heavy, and it drops to the floor, pooling around me in a dense heap.
My arms go automatically to shield my bare breasts, my heart breaking into a sprint as my eyes meet Miko’s in the mirror’s reflection.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe as his thumbs hook inside the elastic waist of my white lace panties, and I watch with detached fear as he slowly guides the flimsy fabric down my hips, stripping me completely.
I can feel his eyes on my body as he bends to help me out of my heels.
Then fire ignites across my skin as his hands return to my waist.
They’re careful, gentle even, but firm as his fingers press into my flesh, his skin warming mine and releasing goosebumps along my spine.
“Easy,” he murmurs, stabilizing me as he walks me to the tub.
His arm is like a safety belt as I step over the lip of the tub, my feet finding the gloriously hot water in the clawfoot basin a moment later. I can see the heat in Miko’s eyes as he lowers me into the tub—he wants me.
But he doesn’t act on it.
Instead, he releases me as soon as I’m settled. Then he turns to collect my wedding dress from the floor.
“Thank you,” I murmur as the steaming bathwater laps around my body, seeping into my skin and calming the bone-deep shivers racking me.
The corners of his lips twitch, his startling blue eyes warming as he hangs my dress on a hook. “You’re welcome.”
My eyes slide closed at the deep rumble of his voice, a sound that could almost be soothing.
But his momentary act of kindness does nothing to ease my nerves. Not when I’m naked and alone in a bedroom with my new husband for the first time.
When I get down to it, I’m just as scared about what’s to come as I was about what happened in the ballroom.
And I can feel the sand slipping through the hourglass, slowly counting down to our wedding night.
Trying not to think about it, I pick up a sponge and focus on scrubbing the gore from my chest. I can still feel it burning my skin despite the fact that it’s already started to crust. When I look back up, I don’t expect the sight I find.
Miko has started to undress, and for the first time, I notice the blood staining his suit and hands.
I don’t even know if it’s his from stepping in to defend me or if the blood from my dress got smeared on him somehow.
Either way, he doesn’t seem to mind as he drops the clothes in a neat pile on the floor, starting with his tie and jacket, followed by his white silk shirt.
My mouth goes dry as I get my first glimpse of the muscles hidden beneath his expensive clothing.
I’ve never seen shoulders so broad and muscular, or a back that ripples with strength every time he moves.
His skin is a canvas of tattoos, the motifs of death and destruction artistically captured in black and white over his smooth, surprisingly pale flesh.
Then he reaches for his belt as he steps out of his shoes.
My stomach knots as I realize he intends to strip down completely.
He might be ready to consummate our marriage here and now, and anxiety tightens around my throat like an iron fist.
But as he sheds his pants and boxers all at once, then steps toward the shower, I realize he’s cleaning off the evidence of the bloody fight as well. In the mirror, his eyes find mine, and I can feel the amusement in his gaze as his lips curve into a smirk.
Heat floods my cheeks as I realize he caught me staring openly at his perfect body.
Flustered, I drop my eyes, bending forward to wash my face in the hot bathwater.
But I can’t forget the fact that Miko is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Pyotr was strong and muscular, sure, but he also liked to drink, so he remained soft around his belly.
Even when we first got married, he didn’t have the figure of a Greek god like Miko does.
And the thought of being close to a man who exudes such masculine strength makes my heart race.
It takes all my self-discipline not to watch as he steps beneath the stream of water, and as he scrubs suds over his body, I can’t help but peek at his glistening form when I know he’s not looking.
It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about a man being sexy.
But there’s just no better word to describe Miko.
He doesn’t say a word as he rinses off the soap, turns off the water, then steps out onto the bathmat to wrap a towel around his tapered waist.
My pulse flutters at the brief glimpse I catch of his cock. It’s already semi-erect and massive.
Larger in both length and thickness than Pyotr was. The thought of it inside me sends a spike of fear lancing through my chest. There’s no way tonight won’t hurt.
I honestly don’t know how he’s going to fit inside me. Just thinking about it makes my stomach squirm.
Finger combing his wet curls back from his face, Miko disappears into the bedroom, leaving me to finish my bath in peace. But all I can think about is what comes next.
So I stay put until my fingers are pruny and the water’s lukewarm.
Finally, when goosebumps start to rise along my skin again, I know I can’t hide any longer.
If I keep soaking in the tub, I’ll catch a cold.
Fighting down the wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me, I rise shakily to my feet and grab the terry cloth robe Miko left for me. It’s plush and warm against my skin as I wrap it firmly around me.
Taking my time, I pad over to the counter to remove the last of my makeup and brush my teeth.
I pull the hairpins and hair ties from my blond locks and loosen the tightly trained curls Chastity fashioned into a beautiful updo this morning.
Massaging my scalp as I finger comb the platinum tresses, I let them fall softly around my face.
Then I study my reflection for any other bedtime routine that will help me delay. But I can’t avoid Miko forever.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I square my shoulders and remind myself that it can’t be the worst thing I’ve ever endured.
At least Miko is physically attractive.
And up until now, he’s shown me a consideration Pyotr never did. But I know just how quickly that can change.
Compacting my growing anxiety into a tight little ball, I shove it deep down inside to ignore.
I might be terrified, but I refuse to let myself be a victim to my circumstances. Tonight is just one more step toward a freedom I will find one day. I’ll survive it.
With my silent pep talk fresh in my brain, I turn away from the mirror and exit the bathroom.
Miko’s already in bed when I step into the room.
Sitting up with his back against the headboard, he’s wearing nothing but boxers, and my stomach flip-flops at the sight of his bare chest, the rippling muscles of his tight abs, and the ink that decorates him. Even when he’s casually relaxed, he looks dangerous, his body like a lethal weapon.
My nerve threatens to abandon me.
It takes ever ounce of self-control to lift my gaze to meet his, and when I do, I find him watching me.
His icy-blue eyes molten with desire.
My pulse breaks into a sprint, my hands starting to shake as his appraisal triggers my flight response.
But beneath the ravenous hunger in his gaze is an emotion that steals my breath away.
It takes me a moment to understand his expression, and when I do, it sends a shiver down my spine.
He’s looking at me—dressed in a robe and without makeup—like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Ready to come to bed?” he asks, his voice gruff but almost… playful.
It has a strange and not entirely unpleasant effect on my nervous system.
My skin starts to tingle, suddenly feeling too hot and too tight for my body.
Riding the unexpected wave of numbness, I boldly open my robe, letting it slide down my arms as I step toward him.
The sooner we get on with it, the sooner this will be over, and I’ve been dreading tonight long enough.
I can’t take it any longer.
“As your wife, I’m yours to do with as you please,” I state, striding toward the bed.