Chapter 18 #2
Semyon's lips twitch, and his eyes burn into mine. "I know. Of course you can," he whispers back, his breath warm on my ear. "But I enjoy watching you get all worked up. Keeps things… interesting, doesn't it?"
I find I can't quite suppress a small smile. He knows how to push my buttons. All of them.
"We’ll skip dessert. I’ve had enough of the family dinner thing.
I want to take you home,” Semyon whispers.
"I bought your brother a tablet loaded with every streaming service I could find.
He can watch anything he wants. He's had a full day, hasn't he?
Food. Exercise. Hard work. I think he needs a little downtime.
" His long, thick fingers brush over my hand.
I'm fixated on the tattoos on them. Why is that so hot? "Don't you think?" he asks quietly.
I want to push him, test him, play along. "I think I’d like dessert."
His gaze darkens on me. "I'll get you anything you want."
"But I want the double chocolate pie Yana made."
"Right," Semyon says, but I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves, that barely-leashed energy that makes my thighs clench, that makes me want to push him until he snaps. Yum. “Here’s the deal, baby,” he says, his voice low and rough. “You can sit your ass here and eat that dessert. And when I get you home, I’ll strip you, lay you over my knee, and paint your pretty ass red so you’ll feel me every time you sit for the next fucking week. How does that sound, little Anya?"
My pulse pounds so loudly I barely hear my own voice when I whisper, “You said I had options. What’s behind door number two?”
His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile. Filthy promises shimmer in them, the kind of things polite girls pretend they don’t want. I like when his eyes heat like this instead of that piercing coldness I can't control. Who am I kidding? I like all of them.
"Door number two," he says in a low whisper, his voice husky, "we skip dessert. Bring it with us. You say goodnight. I take you home, feed you dessert and then spread your thighs and let me eat mine.”
My pulse kicks into overdrive, heat pooling in my belly. It's so wrong that he's talking about this stuff right here in front of his family, in front of my brother. Not that any of them can hear him, but it's still not right that he’s painted a vivid picture of him between my thighs.
His hand moves from the back of my chair, sliding just under the table, his fingertips grazing across my thigh.
Oh my god. I breathe heavier, and when Rafail goes to refill wine glasses, I lift mine to him naturally, hoping he doesn't notice how flustered I am.
I shift in my seat as Semyon's hand moves up to an obscene place on my thigh.
Heat pools, and my pussy throbs. I'm torn between embarrassment and need.
"You're so pretty when you’re aroused," Semyon whispers in my ear. "That pretty pink flush to your cheeks…"
I glance around. Everyone is still caught up in their own conversations, apparently unaware of the tension between the two of us.
"All right, but I like dessert," I whisper. "Can we still have some back at the house?"
His eyes gleam. "Anything you want."
My mouth opens to retort, but I'm interrupted by Stefan. "I want pie," he says. "Can I have pie?"
I smile at him and slowly push Semyon's hand away from me. “I would love a slice of pie.”
Semyon’s lips thin. "You've made your decision," he says, his voice just soft enough to stay between the two of us. "Enjoy that pie while you can still sit.”
I smile at him, my heart racing. I think back to when I was eighteen—young and naive.
Semyon was older, powerful. I could never explain it, but the way he’d get stern with me always sent inexplicable heat through my body.
Now the thought of him like that again—commanding, unrelenting, in charge—makes anticipation and nerves coil inside me.
My cheeks flush as I focus on serving Stefan a slice of pie, though I’m acutely aware of Semyon’s eyes on me.
His gaze feels like the ghost of a touch.
Tonight will be… memorable.
"How long do you need with the computer?" Semyon asks Matvei.
He shakes his head. "At least a week. There are major firewalls to break through. I've made some progress, but it's like the first crack of an egg. Nothing’s really happened yet. The more I can crack through the surface, the further we get.
"I’ve found some interesting information so far," he adds. "But I'll leave that for you to see later. I don’t want to say anything until I have more."
"Anya," Yana says curiously, pulling my attention away from Semyon. "We have a pretty big event coming up in a week.”
I remember when I was younger how it seemed Semyon was always going from one event to the next. He lived larger than life, and I was so jealous. His world seemed so much bigger than mine.
“Everyone’s expected to be dressed up for it. Zoya and I are going shopping for dresses. Maybe you can join us?"
As if she knows exactly how things work here, her eyes meet her brother's. Semyon sits back, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses.
"That's fine," he says. "But each of you will have two guards on you."
Yana opens her mouth to protest, but Zoya just stares him down.
"Six guards?" Yana says incredulously. "Are you serious right now?"
"Serious."
"Semyon's right," Rafail adds, his voice firm. "We're on the verge of a war. We don’t know where alliances stand. We’ll take no chances."
Then, shaking his head, he mutters, "You're lucky he’s even letting you go out at all."
A war… we're on the verge of a war, and my family is at the epicenter of it. I look at Stefan, gleefully eating his pie with gusto. He has no clue what's at stake, that Eli could be in danger.
But we have to keep things safe. For him. For all the children here. For all the future generations.
Semyon’s hand flexes on my thigh.
I don’t have to do this alone.