Chapter 12
For three days, Ulayna has been avoiding him. Or maybe he’s been avoiding her. Both, probably. Fuck!
Alexi sighs. Either way, it has to end. He has to apologize to her. Again. And he has to resolve this unrelenting tension.
Like a bear waking up in early spring, he’s been distracted and cranky since he saw her last.
And he hasn’t been able to stop playing that scene from her bedroom in his dreams. Whether she means to or not, she haunts him.
So either he and Ruger make it a regular practice to beat each other bloody every day, which neither of them would survive, or he forces himself to finally have that dreaded conversation with her.
Agitated and struggling not to show it, Alexi politely knocks on her bedroom door.
After a few seconds, he tries again. When she still doesn’t answer, he turns on his heel and leaves.
He’s learned his lesson about entering her room uninvited.
The first time resulted in an electrical shock that brought him to his knees.
The second time resulted in his current predicament, which figuratively still has him on his knees.
Hoping she’s somewhere else and not just ignoring him, he heads downstairs to search for her.
A glance in the kitchen reveals only Cook, who’s kneading a loaf of bread.
“Have you seen Ulayna?” Alexi asks the older woman.
She sends him a withering glare, but otherwise ignores him.
Alexi shakes his head. His staff seems to be mutinying and making their preference for Ulayna over him very clear. He knows it’s his own fault because he’s been such a cantankerous bastard for the past three days.
“Madeline,” he says, using her real name.
Everyone just calls her Cook. But she’s been with his family since he was a kid, and he’s one of the few people who know and would dare use her real name.
There’s a hint of warning in his voice. His staff may prefer Ulayna right now, but he’s still the Pakhan.
Cook huffs, but relents. “She was in here a few minutes ago to grab a plate of fruit. She was wearing a swimsuit. Try out by the pool.”
“Thank you,” Alexi says sincerely.
—
The second Alexi steps out onto the veranda, Ulayna becomes aware of him. She’s not sure if it’s because of her training and she’s just that much more aware of her surroundings at all times, or if it’s because her senses seem to be attuned to him, specifically.
She remains still, sprawled out across a lounger by the pool. It’s too cold for swimming, but the sun feels glorious on her skin, and she couldn’t resist an opportunity to sunbathe.
With her eyes closed, she tracks Alexi’s movements as he gets closer. She waits until his shadow falls across her, blocking her sun.
“Hello, Pakhan,” she says, finally looking up to see him.
He looks terrible. His split lip is still healing, and the faint purple and green smudges of a bruise mar his cheek.
She heard about his fight with Ruger. The Bratva are worse than teenage girls when it comes to gossip, and it’s all anyone in the compound has been able to talk about for three days.
From the way they’re all discussing it, you’d think two titans had fought to conquer the world.
Not for the first time, she wonders if she had anything to do with it. It’s no coincidence that she pushed Alexi to finally see her as something other than a child, then he stormed out of her room and picked a fight.
She smiles, secretly pleased by the idea. And just to tease him a little more, and hopefully push him over the edge, she reaches her arms over her head and arches her back in a lazy, full-body stretch.
She doesn’t miss the way his eyes track the movement, licking like fire across her exposed skin and stalling on the tiny red triangles that make up her bikini.
She’d worn it for him, hoping he’d see. Channeling her inner femme fatale, she lets her knees drop open just a little.
Not enough to look obvious, but just enough for him to notice.
His breath stutters in his chest, and his hands clench at his side.
Oh, this is fun. She’s spent most of her life trying to ward off men’s advances; she never knew how much fun it could be to tease them instead.
“Do you need something, Pakhan?” she asks, her voice a soft, sensuous purr.
“Alexi,” he grinds out. “To you, my name is Alexi.”
She meets his eyes unflinchingly. “Given names are for use by family and lovers. We are neither. Calling you Alexi would send the wrong signal to your men.”
“I don’t fucking care what my men think. From now on, you use my name,” he orders, his voice low and harsh. “I’m not your pakhan.”
“No? Then what are you? If you’re not my pakhan, then what?”
Alexi spins around and paces a few feet away. He pinches the bridge of his nose in agitation, then paces back to her.
Loving that she’s able to rile him up this much, Ulayna props herself up on her elbows, all too aware that the position pushes her breasts out and that he can clearly see the outline of her nipples pebbled in the chilled air.
Alexi glares down at her, but forces himself to relax. Slowly, never taking his eyes off her, he unclenches his fists, rolls his shoulders, and cracks his neck. Watching him rein himself in sends a thrill of power through her.
He heaves out a huge sigh as if giving up on their argument. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he demands. “We need to talk.”
“Is that an order… Pakhan?” she teases in a sultry voice.
He closes his eyes briefly, as if searching for inner strength. “A request, Ptichka,” he says with a soft voice that seems to caress her body. “It’s your choice. Everything will always be your choice.”
He sends her a final pleading look before walking back the way he came.
Ulayna releases a breath, unaware she’d been holding it. If she were keeping score, she’s not really sure if she’d be able to say who won that round.
—
Alexi stifles a groan when Ulayna saunters into the dining room and sits at the table across from him.
She’s wearing a pair of skintight black jeans with an equally tight V-neck sweater that looks butter soft and hugs every one of her curves.
He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the subtle display of cleavage.
Ulayna clears her throat, and he jerks his eyes up to meet hers. There’s a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.
He opens his mouth, not sure what to say, but is saved by Cook, who comes in carrying two plates of food.
The older woman sets Ulayna’s plate down in front of her with care, then drops his down with a passive-aggressive thud.
Gravy splatters across his sleeve, and he glares at Cook.
But she’s already retreating to the kitchen.
“It seems you’ve pissed off sweet, old Cook,” Ulayna comments as she folds her napkin in her lap.
Alexi growls, unable to articulate a single word in his aggravation.
Ulayna chuckles, obviously enjoying his frustration.
Hoping to give himself some time to put his thoughts in order, Alexi dives into his food. As always, it’s delicious.
Minutes pass in silence, and as Alexi takes another sip of his wine, he realizes that despite his expectations, he’s enjoying himself. Something is so calm and centering about Ulayna’s presence. Even with all the unresolved tension between them, he’s able to relax around her.
“I’ve missed this,” he says honestly. “It’s been weeks since we’ve had dinner with just the two of us, and I’d forgotten just how much I enjoy it.”
Ulayna arches her brow at him. “We’re not even talking.”
“Apparently, that doesn’t matter.” He watches as the pulse at her neck flutters, wondering if she’s as nervous and anxious as he is.
“Tell me what you want,” he begs softly.
When she meets his eyes, he repeats his plea.
“Tell me what you want. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you—as long as it’s what you want for yourself. ”
“You want me to be selfish and tell you what I truly want?”
“Yes,” he says, voice firm. No matter what, he’s determined to give it to her.
“What I want,” Ulayna says, “is you.”
Alexi shakes his head, unconvinced. But before he can try to change her mind, she continues.
“I’ve thought about it a lot. The Program took everything from me. My identity, my joy…” She gulps as if swallowing down the bad memories. “My innocence… And I want it back. I want to reclaim what they stole from me. And part of that means having sex on my terms with someone I choose.”
Alexi suddenly feels like he’s drowning.
He shouldn’t want her. He’s too old and too dark for her.
He wants better for her. But at the same time, he can’t stand the idea of her being with anyone else.
The thought of someone else touching her, of her reclaiming that part of herself with some other man—it makes him want to burn the world down.
“Please don’t ask me for that,” he says in a thick voice, struggling for control. “For your safety and for my sanity, please don’t ask me that again.”
“Why?” Ulayna asks, frustration leaking through her otherwise calm demeanor. “I don’t understand. The other day, in my bedroom, I could see how much you wanted me.”
Alexi huffs out a self-depricating laugh. He’d been as hard as stone, his erection tenting his pants for an hour after their little encounter. He’s sure his attraction for her was blatantly obvious.
Needing her to understand, he tries to explain. “Because, Ptichka, in this, I am no better than the men who used you in the past.” His eyes burn with an untamed fire. “I would take more than you’re willing to give. I would be unable to hold myself back from you.”
“You’re worried you’d hurt me?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “There’s nothing you could do to me that hasn’t already been done.”