Chapter 14
Nikolai
“ F uck. Give me your hand, Malyshka.”
To be fair, she punches like a heavyweight champion. But that doesn’t soften the blow when you’re hitting pure metal with hands as soft and delicate as hers.
Aspen cuffs her hand against herself. “Your face is made of steel,” she grunts.
I quirk an eyebrow and quickly drop it. “Give me your hand. Let me see.” I unfold her fingers. Her knuckles are already bruising. “Why would you do something like this?!” Taking a deep breath, I try to rein in my anger.
“Why would you say all that to my brother?” She groans out her pain, and I grow sick seeing her like this. “And what, you own me now? I lost all my free will in this marriage?”
I elongate my fangs and she stiffens. I slice the side of my lips and blood wells forward.
Her gorgeous brown eyes bloom. “What are you doing?” She starts to pull back but I hold her hand firmly.
With my free hand, I swipe my blood and spread it across her knuckles, rubbing it in her skin like ointment. Her shoulders slowly drop and relief spreads across her face .
“Are you feeling a little better?” I rub my thumb gently over her knuckles.
She nods.
Getting up, I walk to the fridge, grab the frozen peas and make my way over to her. “This should stop the swelling.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. He’s going to be worried sick.”
“No, that’s my job now. Like I said, he can call me or text me if he wants to talk to you.”
“Nikolai, you can’t talk for me or make decisions for me.”
Not liking how this conversation is going, I change the subject. “We need to talk about last night.”
She readjusts herself in her seat. She’s just as uncomfortable about what we both experienced last night. I’ve never felt in tune with someone without touching them physically. It was like my shadows sought her. They’ve never caressed someone like that before. Never.
Not even Helana.
“That can’t happen again. Not while we don’t know each other, while we’re not aligned.”
Aspen chews on the inside of her cheeks and I long to know what she is truly thinking.
“Agree.” Her voice is so soft, I barely heard her. “Let’s just forget about it.”
I don’t want to. However, I know relationships can’t be built on attraction and desires alone. I don’t want that for us. We need to move slow, get to know each other. Neither one of us is going anywhere.
This right here is final.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. You keep the bed.”
She scoffs in amusement. “What are we? Roommates, Nikolai? ”
“Married roommates.” I add. “We are married in every sense of the word. It’s just different.”
At least for now.
***
We’ve been cohabiting for a month, and I’ve learned many things about Aspen.
The first week, she barely said a word to me. I assume she was still pissed off about the call with Roman. She tiptoed around me whenever both of us were in the suite together. And avoiding me completely outside our suite.
The second week got better. She’d started responding to greetings and questions. Albeit one word answers but it was progress. I like her Hi’s in the morning and her goodnights before bed.
The third week, she started humming when she took showers or washed dishes.
Sometimes I would catch her writing on the back of napkins when she hummed.
When I told her to just use one of Helana’s journals, her eyes shot daggers at me.
She said it would have been too disrespectful, those were Helana’s sacred writings, she wouldn’t dare.
I bought her a case of brand new journals, just for her.
With her, I’m straight action. I see something she needs, I get it. There will never be a moment where she would find herself asking me for anything because it’ll already be handled.
Seeing her fill up the pages awakened something in my chest I forgot I even had.
My heart .
I also discovered that when she hums, it relaxes me.
Her voice feels like a warm hug that I want to fall into every time.
With her scent, along with her humming, I notice myself resting my eyes more or taking naps that plunge me into deep sleep.
It’s been ages since I’ve rested soundly and uninterrupted.
On the fourth week, my mom, Viessa, and she started meeting in the family den before dinner every night. She’s warm and open with them but when she’s with me, she’s cold and closed off.
There are times that I find that if I don’t wake her for breakfast, she’ll sleep until noon.
She is not a shy eater, and she eats everything I cook for her, though it gives her what she calls indigestion every time she eats something heavy.
The way she presses her hand to her chest and sometimes loses color in her face after eating, tells me it’s something more than just indigestion.
I’ve readjusted her meals to something light and there has been improvement. I’m watching her. There’s something wrong, she just won’t tell me. I’m a man of many talents and patience is one of them. I will find out sooner or later.
She talks with Roman every now and then. Their talks are mostly about food, her favorite lipstick my father gave back to her and their days in general. She told me that Roman is going to New Orleans to visit friends next week. She asked to go too and the answer was a long no.
When she’s not talking to Roman, her favorite past time is Russian TV dramas while wearing my pajamas. I didn’t know she even knew Russian, we’ve all been speaking English assuming she was like any other American— arrogant and clueless of the world around them.
Did she notice when I called her Malyshka that day she punched me?
Sleeping on the couch hasn’t been too terrible. My large frame does resemble that of a pretzel, but I refuse to share a bed with her until we establish a friendship.
“Why don’t we have dinner in town tonight?” I ask her as Dr. Sullivan draws her blood. It doesn’t escape my notice when there’s a look shared between the two of them.
My father is very adamant about us conceiving. Aspen and I know this test will come back negative. It’s just a formality.
Aspen looks up to me, puzzled. “You’ll let me leave the compound?”
I lift my shoulder with a half shrug. “What’s one night?”
She bites the inside of her cheeks, the corners of her lips twitch up. She’s planning again, always looking for an escape.
That won’t happen tonight or ever.
She can try though.
“There’s a five-star restaurant downtown. Its main buzz is their savory menu.”
That catches her attention, like I knew it would.
“What is this? A date?”
Dr. Sullivan stores away the blood sample tubes.
“A dinner with a friend ,” I correct.
“I’d rather jump out a window again before calling you a friend.”
“I’ll send the samples off to the lab. Mr. Volkov should have the results in a week.” Dr. Sullivan packs her things and leaves the room. Shortly after, I could hear the soft click of the suite door closing.
“You remember what happened the last time you tried to escape, right?”
She grinds her teeth. “Upscale?”
“It’s Michelin. ”
She stands and juts out her hip. “I don’t have a dress. Or heels. Nothing.”
“I’ve arranged everything. I already have those things, plus if you decide to wear makeup, all that will be here within thirty minutes.”
“If you’re saying I’m ugly, Nikolai, I swear you will wake up without your balls in the morning. Play with me if you want to.”
“You don’t need makeup. You’re beautiful but you wouldn’t believe anything I say anyway,” I say honestly because everything about this woman is beautiful. Even the scowl I’ve grown so used to is gorgeous.
“I wouldn’t.”
“I know.”
When her clothes finally get to our suite, she and I get ready.
I’m waiting on the couch when she steps out of the bedroom.
Fuck. Me.
She’s a fucking dream.
The black dress I ordered for her hugs every curve and the arch of her heels draws my eyes straight to her ass. I fight back the groan that desperately wants to leave my lips.
Aspen pulled her braids in a high, stylish bun that showcases her neckline.
Mine.
My body is screaming at me to claim her. To possess her mind, body and soul. My fangs elongate and my shadows slightly release from me.
I’m fucked.