Chapter 13 #2
“‘Seva’? Can I call you that?” He’s insatiable, already kissing up my neck.
Victor is voracious. He’ll take anything I’m willing to give him, so why not a nickname he can use for me?
He deserves to feel special after the way he’s opened up to me today.
Sure, the sex was hot and filthy, but it wasn’t just about pleasure and relief.
He’s the first person I can talk to in years, and his presence makes me so tender inside.
It was his first time, and I sensed his nerves.
Still, he wanted me bad enough to ask for it.
“No one’s called me that in ages,” I tell him, brushing hair out of his face as we watch steam float above my bowl. “The last time... when I was still a kid, playing cops and robbers on the block where I lived. But I like it. You can call me that.”
“You don’t really have guests here, do you, Seva?” Victor tenderly brushes some hair behind my ear, and I lean in, gasping at the tinge of pleasure his touch offers.
“Not since my mother died. Just you and the assassins.” I shrug.
He smirks and runs his finger from my forehead to my nose. “Ah, the mysterious assassins. Are you sure you didn’t make them up?”
I wish.
“Do you think I made it all up and terrorized you for no reason? That would make me crazy,” I mumble, remembering that time I strapped Victor to my torture chair, and he broke instantly.
I hug him tighter, because he’s fragile underneath the bravado that brought him here.
Nothing like the men who visit me for a chance at the bounty on my head.
“I’d believe you if you told me it’s daytime and the sky is green.”
Adorable, but not what I want. “Then you’d be believing the ravings of a maniac. The assassins are real, although I hope my enemies ran out of people stupid or reckless enough to go after me,” I say and fish out the last two dumplings out of the soup. “Open wide.”
He does so without question, and with the happiest little smile when he closes his mouth to chew.
I’d be blind if I didn’t see how infatuated he is, so it makes me especially glad that even in such a state, art is still important enough for him to question me about it.
He’s never harsh or cruel in his critiques, but very thoughtful.
It makes me want to teach him even more, so yes, maybe I am ready to allow someone else to paint me .
It’s way past midnight though, and the new day will await us with fresh energy after a good sleep.
Once we’re done with our soup, he insists on washing the dishes, so I let him, but not without cuddling him as he does it and distracting him endlessly.
I lead Victor downstairs, to the large bedroom where he sleeps.
It’s bigger than the one he occupied initially, and it even has a window (shatterproof and barred) to let in some natural light, but as I get ready to leave, he lingers at my side.
“Seva…” he says, holding my wrist.
I ruffle his hair. “Hm?”
“Stay with me? After today, I just… I’d love to just cuddle. We can lock the door, that’s okay.”
I should have expected that question, yet it strikes me out of left field, and I find myself staring at him in silence.
If he really is as innocent as it seems, then my insistence on staying away might sound crazy, but I’ve only known him for two weeks, and he could be playing the long game.
I didn’t survive until now by accident. Still, I feel awful when I shake my head, dimming some of the glow in his eyes.
“I prefer to sleep alone.”
Because what am I supposed to say? That I’m afraid he’ll bite into my throat as I sleep?
“Oh…” Victor plays with my fingers, unwilling to let go. The truth is that if I was able to relax enough to sleep next to him, even for a little nap, I would have loved to hold him close.
At first, I chose to keep him as a convenient, pretty toy, but he’s already crawled under my skin with his playfulness, his inquisitive nature, and how intense he is about art.
It also doesn’t hurt how insatiably horny he is despite an underlying shyness.
I still haven’t managed to capture that in any drawing of him.
So maybe.. .
“Would you be able to sleep if I taped you in place?”
Victor frowns and steps back, letting go of my hand. “Probably. But that’s not the point. It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I shouldn’t care about his hunched shoulders. He’s my captive, and I do what I want. And yet suspicions rise inside me instantly. “Then what is it about?”
“The point is, I want to cuddle. I want to touch you. I want to wrap myself around you. Why are you making me spell it out?” Victor spreads his arms, backing toward the bed.
“And how would I even run away if—” He stills, watching me with a sharp gaze.
“No. You’re afraid I would hurt you? In your sleep? Me ?”
I exhale, trying not to roll my eyes. “I’ve once had a young girl stab me while I tried to help her carry a baby stroller up a flight of stairs. You’re not incapable of violence either.”
As we both know, since he broke in with a gun and a backpack full of rope.
“Sure! But I… I trusted you with my body today.” He crosses his arms on his chest and pouts.
He actually believes what he’s saying makes sense. He is delusional.
“One of the reasons I was recruited as a spy and killer? I was good-looking. You think being a honey pot makes one any less deadly?” I ask, spreading my arms in frustration, because I do know how easy it is to kill a man sleeping off a sex marathon.
Victor shrugs and shakes his head, hiding his eyes behind his hair. “Fine. Goodnight, Seva.”
That stings, but I need to keep up my boundaries if this budding thing between us is to survive. “How about apple fritters for breakfast?” I ask, trying to give him something nice to look forward to .
Victor nods. “I would love that.” His voice is sour, but he’s giving me something.
This is fine. Just growing pains as we establish how our relationship will work.
I kiss his forehead, then close the door between us, and I slot all four bolts in place. And for the first time, I don’t leave immediately, instead staring at the steel surface in front of me. It doesn’t make sense to forego the rules that have kept me alive so far.
In the end, I shake my head and walk off to do my nightly rounds. I’ve already been neglectful in checking the regular alerts on my phone because of my moody little distraction.
Ratimir chirps at the sight of me, but it’s late, so I only pet him a little bit, then add more food to his bowl, and proceed with the ritual of checking all traps, windows, doors, and other safety measures I keep in place.
I’m all the way down in the basement when it occurs to me that I should check my phone again. I looked at the alerts so quickly before, when I was defrosting the chicken soup, and now I swear I’m having some brain glitch.
But no. Something’s not right.
A lock in one of the back doors to the house isn’t closed.
That could, of course, be an oversight on my part, but I always check thrice, and I’ve not even been at that door today, far too busy with Victor.
In a frenzy, I flip through live feeds of every single hidden camera in the house, and I almost miss the man in black stalking one of the corridors, but I go back to the video, and a sense of peace replaces the initial dread.
It’s just one man, and I’m in control here.
Then I realize I’m not the only person living in this house now, and that the man has approached the door of the decoy bedroom.
Victor’s bedroom.