Chapter 22
Rei Kurosaki
Dimitri Morozov was many things. Ruthless. Dangerous. Terrifyingly possessive. But I never expected him to be this picky about a flower.
We had been walking through the forest for nearly two hours. Dimitri held my hand the entire time. Every now and then, he would tug me closer when I tried to wander off.
He had already rejected at least fifteen flowers.
“This one doesn’t have enough petals,” he muttered, discarding a beautiful crimson bloom with a frown. He tossed it aside. “It looks incomplete.”
I blinked at him, trying and failing not to smile. “It’s a flower, Dimitri. They don’t have to be perfect.”
He shot me a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not wearing something incomplete in your hair. Next.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as he moved deeper into a patch of wildflowers, crouching down to inspect another one. His large frame looked almost comical hunched over the delicate blooms, like a predator trying to be delicate.
“Too dirty,” he said, brushing soil off the petals. “I’m not putting something filthy in your hair.”
“You literally chased me through this forest with a gun,” I reminded him, raising an eyebrow. “Now you’re worried about a little dirt?”
He glanced up at me, blue eyes amused. “That was different. This is for you. It has to be perfect.”
My heart did a stupid little flip at that. I looked away quickly, pretending to study a nearby tree so he would not see the way my face heated up.
We kept walking. Dimitri’s standards were absurdly high. He would crouch, inspect each flower like it was a piece of fine jewelry, murmur criticisms under his breath, then move on without mercy.
“This one is slightly wilted on one side,” he said, discarding another.
“That one’s too small,” he muttered a minute later.
“This one has a bug on it. Absolutely not.”
I finally stopped walking and crossed my arms, watching him. “Are you always this picky when you want something?”
He straightened up to his full height, towering over me. “Only when it’s for you,” he said simply. “You deserve the best.”
I could not fight the smile that spread across my face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re blushing again,” he pointed out, stepping closer until I had to tilt my head back to look at him. He reached out and poked my nose with one finger, the gesture surprisingly playful. “Cute.”
I swatted his hand away, but I was smiling wider now. “Stop that.”
We continued our search. Dimitri’s persistence was no joke. At one point, he even pulled out his phone and compared the shade of red on the screen to the petals of a flower he was holding, like he was trying to match the exact color.
It was strange seeing him like this. Focused on something so small and delicate after everything that had happened between us.
“You know,” I said softly, “you don’t have to make it perfect. I’d be happy with any red flower.”
Dimitri did not even look up from the cluster he was examining. “No. It has to be right.”
I sighed, but there was no real frustration behind it. If anything, warmth was slowly spreading through my chest. He was doing this for me.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached down and plucked a single flower from a small cluster near a sunlit clearing. It was a vibrant red with full, layered petals that caught the light beautifully. Not a single flaw.
Dimitri stared at it for a long moment, turning it carefully between his fingers like he was making sure it was worthy.
“This,” he said.
He walked back to me. From his pocket, he pulled out a small attachable clip. I blinked in surprise when I saw it.
“You… carried that with you?”
“Of course I did,” he replied.
He tucked the flower into the clip, then stepped closer. One hand tilted my chin up while the other slid the clip into my hair, just above my ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he adjusted it, making sure it sat perfectly.
“There,” he murmured, stepping back just enough to look at me. “Now it’s perfect.”
I reached up to touch the flower, feeling the soft petals against my fingertips. A genuine smile pulled at my lips.
“Thank you.”
“Red looks good on you, little fairy,” he said. “Especially when I’m the reason you’re wearing it.”
Before I could respond, he leaned down and kissed me.
***
It quickly became our routine.
Every night before bed, Dimitri would pull me close and ask, “What color tomorrow, little fairy?” I would tell him, and the next morning he would wake up before dawn, slip out into the woods while I was still sleeping, and come back with the perfect flower.
He would clip it into my hair, kiss my temple, and we would go to school.
Then we would come home.
And every single day, morning and night, he made me come.
He was so fucking horny, constantly touching me, tasting me, pulling orgasms out of me. He used his hands, getting more and more creative, whispering filthy things in my ear while he worked me apart. I was not complaining. Not even a little.
But today was different.
I was leaning back against the marble kitchen counter, scrolling through my phone while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, when Dimitri walked in. He stopped in the doorway the second he saw me. His eyes dragged over my body. I was only wearing one of his black shirts.
He crossed the kitchen, and before I could say anything, his mouth was on mine.
The kiss was deep from the start. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me slightly so I was sitting on the edge of the counter.
I wrapped my legs around him on instinct, pulling him closer as his tongue slid against mine.
We kissed for a long time. His hands roamed under the shirt, gripping my thighs, squeezing my ass, then sliding up to pinch my nipples through the fabric. I was already hard, my cock pressing against his stomach.
Then, Dimitri dropped to his knees in front of me.
My eyes widened.
“Dimitri, what are you doing?” I breathed.
I had heard the rumors at school. Dimitri Morozov did not get on his knees for anyone. Not during sex. Not ever. It was like an unspoken rule.
But here he was, on his knees on the kitchen floor, looking up.
His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the shirt higher.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he cut me off. “I’ve been dying to taste you. Properly.”
Before I could say anything else, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down in one smooth motion. My cock sprang free, already half-hard and flushed. Dimitri stared at it for a second, licking his lips like he was starving.
He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from the base of my cock all the way to the tip, collecting the bead of precum there. The wet heat of his tongue made my hips jerk.
“Oh my god…” I gasped, hands flying to his shoulders.
Dimitri groaned softly. He wrapped one hand around the base of my cock while his tongue circled the sensitive head. He licked, flicking his tongue over the slit, then flattening it and dragging it along the underside.
I was already shaking.
He looked up at me through his lashes.
“You’re so fucking sensitive,” he rasped. “I’ve barely started and you’re already trembling.”
Then he opened his mouth and took me in.
His mouth was wet and tight, and he did not hesitate. He sank down until I felt the head of my cock brush the back of his throat. He did not gag. He just moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight through my body.
“Fuck— Dimitri—” I choked out, my fingers tightening in his hair.
He pulled back slowly, letting his tongue drag along every inch, before sinking down again. This time he took me even deeper.
I was losing my mind.
My thighs were shaking. My hips kept trying to thrust forward, but he held me in place.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growled when he pulled off for air, strings of saliva connecting his lips to my cock.
One of his hands slid between my legs, gently cupping my balls and rolling them in his palm while he worked me with his mouth.
I was moaning nonstop now, completely lost in the feeling.
“Dimitri— fuck, that feels— I can’t—”
I could feel my orgasm building fast. Too fast. My stomach tightened. My balls drew up.
“I’m— I’m gonna—” I tried to warn him.
Dimitri pulled off with a wet pop, stroking me fast with his hand while he looked up at me with wild eyes.
“Come in my mouth, little fairy,” he ordered. “I want to taste every fucking drop. Don’t hold back.”
He took me back in, sucking hard.
With a choked cry, I came hard down his throat. My hips jerked as I spilled in thick pulses. Dimitri did not pull off until I was completely spent and twitching from oversensitivity.
When he finally let my cock slip from his mouth, he licked his lips slowly.
Then he stood up.
Before I could even catch my breath, he grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me deeply.
***
I was already on edge that day.
Marco had not shown up to school in three days.
That was not like him at all. Marco was the kind of person who would drag himself to class with a fever, a sprained ankle, or even a broken rib if he thought missing school would disappoint someone.
When I called him the day before, his voice had sounded wrong.
He only said, “Don’t worry about me, Rei.
I just caught a cold.” I did not believe him for a second.
I tried calling again that morning. No answer.
I was not alone at school though. Dimitri was always next to me, and if he went away, it was only for a few minutes. Like right now, for example. He had just told me he was going to the bathroom quickly. I nodded, heading toward my locker to grab my notebook for the next period.
Someone bumped into me. A tall guy in a black hoodie. He muttered a quick “Sorry” without even glancing back and kept walking. I barely registered it. My mind was still stuck on Marco and the way his voice had sounded on the phone.
I reached my locker and spun the combination.
Something exploded in my face.
A warm, wet spray hit me directly in the eyes, nose, and mouth. I gasped on instinct. A huge mistake. The metallic taste flooded my tongue and slid down my throat before I could stop it.
Blood.
It was blood.
My hands flew up to wipe at my eyes, smearing the sticky liquid across my cheeks and forehead. My vision was blurry and red-tinted, but I could still see inside the locker.
Four severed fingers.
They were lying on top of my textbooks like discarded pieces of meat. The stumps were still bleeding, dark red pooling at the bottom of the locker and dripping onto the floor. One of them still had a ring on it. The nails were torn and ragged.
A scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it.
I stumbled backward, slamming hard into the lockers behind me. My chest seized up. I could not breathe. I could not think. All I could see was red.
Suddenly I was not in the hallway of Bloodburn Academy anymore.
I was back in that mangled car in Tokyo, with my father’s body draped over mine, shielding me as glass and metal tore into him.
I could feel it again. The hot blood soaking through my clothes, dripping onto my face, my neck, my hands.
One of his fingers had been sliced clean off by a shard of the windshield.
I remembered staring at it in horror, the way it lay on my lap like a discarded piece of meat while he gasped my name with his last breaths.
I could not breathe.
My lungs refused to work. I slid down the locker, my hands clawing at my throat as if I could physically pull the oxygen in.
People were staring.
Dozens of them, but no one moved to help. They just pulled their phones and recorded. It was entertaining. The rich Japanese kid having a breakdown in the hallway.
My hands trembled as I reached up to my hair, desperately searching for the flower Dimitri had given me that morning, the bright red one that usually grounded me during panic attacks.
It was gone.
I must have lost it when that person bumped into me.
I began sobbing. Without the flower, I had nothing. No small piece of color to remind me I was not still trapped in that car, drowning in my father’s blood.
“I can’t— I can’t breathe—” I gasped, curling into myself on the cold floor. Tears mixed with the blood on my face. “Please… someone—”
But no one came.
They just kept filming.
I was suffocating.
My vision started spotting black at the edges. My heart was going to explode. I was going to die here, on the dirty hallway floor, surrounded by strangers who only cared about getting likes.
Where was Dimitri?
Where was Marco?
Why was I always alone when it mattered most?
I pressed my forehead against my knees, rocking slightly, trying to make myself smaller. “Make it stop…”
For the first time in weeks, I felt like the old Rei again.
Empty.
Broken.
Drowning in blood that would never wash off.