16. Katya
16
KATYA
“ S top it!” I hiss, yanking my wrist out of his grip. “You’re hurting me.”
Igor’s hand drops immediately, but the frustration in his icy blue eyes burns hotter. His jaw tightens, and he exhales sharply, as if trying to keep his temper in check.
“Get in the room,” he growls, his voice low and clipped.
We’ve been butting heads since we reached the second floor, and he’s been on edge the entire time. What went on downstairs doesn’t warrant this level of hostility. I’ve been on his side, whether he’s willing to admit it or not. But why should I be surprised? He’s proven himself to be an unbearable prick at every opportunity.
I fold my arms and stand firm, glaring at him. “Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap, rubbing the red mark blooming on my wrist. “And don’t ever touch me without my permission again, or you’ll regret it.”
His head tilts slightly, his lips curling into a smirk that makes my pulse spike with irritation. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice laced with mockery.
“Want to test that theory?” I fire back, my jaw clenching.
For a moment, neither of us moves. The tension between us crackles, thick and suffocating. Igor’s hands flex at his sides, his fingers curling into fists as if he’s fighting the urge to grab me again.
He takes a step closer. “Get. In. The. Room. Now.”
With a huff, I shove past him and step inside the room. “Satisfied?” I snap over my shoulder, refusing to look at him.
He follows me in, shutting the door firmly behind him.
I’ve never felt so inexplicably vulnerable in all my life. To hate him and want him with the same intensity is messing with my head. Because when he fucks me, our connection runs deep, deeper than I’ve experienced with anyone else before. My very sanity comes undone underneath him.
It’s no wonder that I crave for him to take control again. He’ll give me exactly what I need. And yet I won’t ask for what I want. My only other option is to dare him to do the opposite, hoping he’ll want to prove me wrong.
“Touch me again, and see what happens,” I repeat my threat defiantly.
My heart jumps in my chest. The corner of his mouth curls in a slow smile, and before I know it, his hand moves behind my neck, yanking me toward him. His body is an iron wall, cold and unforgiving.
His dark energy breaks my resolve in a few short seconds.
Instead of pulling back, my own hand brushes along his hard shaft, palming him through his pants. Feeling my fingers on his the length has his breath quickening.
“Is that how you want to be touched, you sick fuck?” I snarl. “By someone who’ll never be yours no matter how much you might try to tell yourself otherwise?”
“Don’t kid yourself, volchitsa ,” he spits. “No matter how much you roar, you’re mine.”
“Oh, yeah?” I challenge. “Prove it.”
Igor’s eyes burn with rage. His other hand cups my chin and pulls me close, like we’re lovers about to kiss. His touch leaves behind a strange sensation. I’m cold but hot at the same time.
Laughing quietly, he regards me with a triumphant grin.
“As you command,” he purrs.
A moment passes in which I’m trying to figure out his next move. He catches me by surprise. A heavy spank on my behind forces a pained moan out of me.
I shouldn’t be into it. This should make me even madder at him, but instead, it excites me, making my skin buzz.
I stop dead in my tracks and lunge my hand toward his balls, stopping short of touching them. He’s so close that his cock is less than an inch away from me. If he shuffles closer, my fingers could press against his full length, wrap around it and jerk it painfully hard. The thought of making him writhe in pain makes heat spread between my thighs.
He stands his ground, unflinching at my obvious intent. I reach further forward and watch in disappointment when he effortlessly grabs my wrist with a loud chuckle, stopping me from hurting him.
I step back and try to lift my hands again, but this time, he’s prepared and pushes me against the wall.
“First things first,” he hisses. “While I like my woman to have sass and personality, you must show me respect when in company. For failing to do that, I’ll punish you.”
“And then?” I dare him.
He smirks. “And then I’ll rail you so hard you won’t remember your own name.” He grabs my arm and pulls me toward his bed. “On your knees.”
“No.”
“I think it’s about time you get a proper lesson,” Igor declares casually, opening the top two buttons of his dress shirt. His voice lacks the steel and ice I’ve gotten used to, and his whole demeanor has changed, but he doesn’t inspire fear. More like curiosity. Anticipation of his next move. Unbridled excitement.
“What?”
His eyes glimmer mischievously as if there were several secrets hidden inside them. Each one of them a dirty one.
“It’s time for you to face the consequences.” He smirks.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.” Igor snorts. “I’ll teach you how to submit and who you belong to.”
I laugh and cock my head. “If you actually think of me as a possession, we have a problem.”
I feel his hot breath on my lips and know I’ll be lost if I don’t stop him. Suddenly scared of him taking a piece of me, I do the first thing that comes to mind.
I bite.
Even without knowing what I’m doing, my teeth sink into his flesh. He doesn’t pull back, letting me bite down until a metallic taste fills my mouth. His body hums against me, and I realize this did nothing to deter him. It only turned him on more.
It’s unsettling how much I enjoy it.
Before I lose myself completely, I shove him with all my strength, breaking free and dashing for the door. It slams against the frame behind me as I sprint down the corridor, his blood still on my lips.
But just as I round the corner, another door swings open, and a hand grabs my arm, yanking me to a stop.
No.
Not again.
“Relax, it’s me,” Aleks says, his deep voice breaking through the whirlwind in my head. He presses his finger gently against my lips, wiping away the blood I hadn’t realized was still there. “What happened?”
My chest heaves as I try to slow my breaths, his calm blue eyes pulling me back from the edge. For a moment, I consider telling him, spilling everything—the anger, the tension, the chaos Igor stirs in me. But before I can speak, Aleks shakes his head and runs a hand down his face.
“Never mind,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t get involved.”
His gaze flicks behind me, his expression hardening briefly before softening again as he looks at me. “Sofiya’s been asking for you. She wants a bedtime story.”
Relief washes over me at the mention of my daughter. I nod quickly. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Aleks gives me a small, reassuring smile before placing a hand on the small of my back. The gesture is brief, gentle, and guiding, and it anchors me as he leads me toward Damien’s room. When we reach the door, he stops at the threshold and opens it for me.
“She’s waiting,” he says softly, stepping aside.
I walk in, and the sound of Aleks’s footsteps echoing down the hall fades behind me.
I pause inside the room, forcing myself to push away the turmoil swirling in my mind. Igor, his touch, his words, his presence —all of it gets shoved into the corners of my thoughts. Right now, I have one priority: my daughter.
Sofiya lies on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She doesn’t say a word when she sees me, but the way her eyes sweep over my face tells me enough. She knows something’s wrong.
I’m a mess.
I plaster on a smile, but the weight of her gaze chips at my fragile mask. The man I despise—no, the man I should despise—is tearing me apart, turning me into someone I barely recognize. Should I just give in and let him have me, body and soul? Would that quiet the chaos inside me, or would it shatter me completely?
I shake the thoughts away and silently thank Aleks for wiping away the evidence of my madness. The last thing Sofiya or Damien need is to see me like that—bloodied, unraveled, a shell of the woman and mother I’m trying to be.
With what little composure I have left, I move toward the bed. Sofiya watches me silently as I squeeze between them, pulling the covers up to her chin before turning to Damien and doing the same.
“A little birdie told me you want a story,” I whisper for Damien, while my hands move in soft, fluid motions to sign the words for Sofiya.
Damien grins and nods. I settle in, reaching for the book on the bedside table. It’s an old, familiar fairy tale—the same one my grandmother used to read to me when I was their age.
I open the cover, scanning the worn pages as warmth spreads through me. For a moment, the storm outside this room doesn’t matter. Only Sofiya and Damien do.
I lean over and press a soft kiss to Sofiya’s forehead, then another to Damien’s.Then I take a deep breath, settling my nerves as I begin. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess?—”
The sound of the door creaking open stops me mid-sentence. My head snaps up, startled, and my pulse quickens as Igor steps into the room.
He’s cleaned up, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his hair smoothed back. The blood is gone, replaced by a disarming softness I don’t trust. His presence still fills the room, swallowing the space like a shadow.
He moves toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze locking onto mine. For a moment, all my thoughts scatter.
“I hope you didn’t start without me,” he says, his voice low but warm, his lips curling into a small, almost tender smile. “We should do this as a family.”
The word family lingers in the air, wrapping itself around me like a noose. My throat tightens, but I force myself to hold his gaze, even as my chest tightens with anger—and something else I can’t name.
Sofiya shifts beside me, her curious eyes darting between Igor and me. Damien smiles brightly, clearly thrilled to see his father join us.
I swallow hard, pushing the lump in my throat down. “We’re just starting,” I say, my voice steady, though every nerve in my body is on alert.
Igor sits next to Damien, his weight shifting the mattress. His hand brushes against mine for a fleeting moment, and I flinch before I can stop myself. His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t comment.
“Go on,” he says, leaning back and gesturing to the book in my hands. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
My jaw tightens as I force myself to return my attention to the book. The words blur as my focus wavers, but I take a deep breath and continue.
“Once upon a time,” I start again, my voice softer now, “there was a beautiful princess who lived in a castle by the sea…”
As I read and sign, my mind works overtime. I can feel Igor’s presence beside me, his steady gaze occasionally shifting to Sofiya and Damien. It’s unsettling, this moment of quiet domesticity, because I know it’s not real. It’s an illusion.
Because Igor doesn’t belong in this picture.