Chapter Fifteen, Danika #2
I went down hard, coughing and gasping for air. My vision blurred, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. Before I could move, she was on me, her blade pressed to my throat. Her eyes burned into mine, fierce and unyielding, and for a moment, I thought this was it.
I wanted it to be it. To be over. For all the pain to stop.
“Kill me,” I rasped in Russian, my voice barely audible over the blaring noise. “Please, Dani.”
Her hand twitched, the blade pressing a fraction deeper. Then she froze. Something flickered across her face—an emotion I couldn’t name. Her jaw tightened, her gaze hardening, and for a moment, I thought she would finish it.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she let out a sharp breath, her shoulders sagging as she pulled the knife away. Her grip on the blade loosened, and it fell to the floor with a dull clatter.
“You win,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she carried on our conversation in both our native tongues.
“What?” I stared at her, disbelief coursing through me.
“You win,” she repeated, louder this time.
She rolled onto her back, spreading her arms out to either side as if in surrender.
Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths, and for the first time, I saw the exhaustion etched into her features.
“Now get up and finish it before they figure out what happened.”
I hesitated, my body trembling, my mind screaming at me to move, to do something. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
“Dani—”
“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting me off. Her voice was sharp, but there was no malice in it. “Just do what you have to do, Atlas. Survive.”
Her words hit me like a blow to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move. To pick up the knife and stumble to my feet. To stand over her, my shadow falling across her motionless form when I pinned her to the ground.
The timer ticked down behind me, the numbers a blur in my peripheral vision.
My grip on the knife tightened, my knuckles white with the effort. This wasn’t survival. It wasn’t winning. It was something else entirely. Something hollow and bitter and wrong.
The blade came down, missing her by a fraction of an inch as I drove it into the floor beside her. And when the timer hit zero, I stood over her, my chest heaving, my vision swimming, and blood dripping onto the cold concrete floor.
We’d survived. But it didn’t feel like winning. I knew we would both lose.
I came to gasping for air, with a soft set of hands gently stroking along my face, eager to calm me. To whisper promises that I was not fourteen. I was not trapped.
I was free, and I was okay.
My brain just didn’t know it yet.
“You’re okay, Atlas.” A delicate voice murmured, even as I automatically reached out, hands wrapping around the throat of whoever was touching me. Aching to snap them in two.
Desperate to kill the danger. To end the monster coming to tear me alive once more.
“Watch yourself, fantasma.” A deep voice grumbled, thick with sleep. “You won’t like it if you hurt her, even if it’s not on purpose.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Hands still, not choking, even if they were tight around my target.
I blinked again. The main room of the cabin coming into focus. My heartbeat lessening in my ears.
Silence. Silence and then the best sound in the world suddenly broke through the haze in my mind.
“It was just a nightmare, baby.” Heaven smiled at me, her face barely a few inches away. No care in the world for the danger she faced. “You’re safe here. The monsters aren’t real.”
My fingers tightened around something soft and warm—something fragile that I would have died before ever hurting. My breath hitched as the realization sank in.
Heaven.
The thought slammed into me, pulling me from the jagged edges of the nightmare. I froze, my pulse roaring in my ears as I stared at my hands, where they curled around her neck. I could feel the soft thrum of her pulse beneath my palms.
Her voice came, soft but steady, cutting through the chaos in my mind. “Atlas.”
I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t acknowledge her or the soft, cold nose of Mali that nudged against my bare thigh, below my shorts.
“You’re really okay,” my girl murmured, her voice like a distant echo. Her hands rose slowly, resting over mine. “You’re awake now. It’s just me and Gio and Mali. No Bigfoot.”
Slow as anything, I methodically peeled my fingers away from her throat, one by one, my hands trembling as though they belonged to someone else. The warmth of her skin lingered on my palms, a reminder of how close I’d come to…
No, I couldn’t finish the thought.
Heaven didn’t flinch or pull back. Instead, she stayed close, her blue hair a messy halo around her face. Her big brown eyes were steady, focused entirely on me.
“It was just a nightmare,” she said gently. “You didn’t hurt me.”
The weight on the couch shifted as Gio sat up beside us. His dark hair was mussed from sleep, his jaw shadowed with the beginnings of stubble. He didn’t say anything right away, but his gaze was calm, assessing.
He would have killed me if Heaven was truly in danger. I knew that, even with the fact we liked each other too.
She was the most important one, and he would have stopped me from doing anything too bad.
It was fine.
It had to be fine.
“She’s right,” Gio said after a moment, his voice low and soothing. “You’re here, Atlas. You’re safe. With us.”
My chest tightened, the ache radiating through my ribs, making it hard to breathe. Heaven’s hands moved to my shoulders, her touch light but firm, kneading gently as if to press the tension out of me.
“I’ll grab you something to drink away the shadows in your eyes,” Gio offered, getting to his feet. He disappeared into the kitchen, the soft pad of his bare feet barely audible over my panting breaths.
Heaven didn’t move from her spot beside me. Instead, she shifted closer, climbing carefully into my lap like I was something fragile, something that might break at the slightest pressure. Her arms slid around my neck, her forehead resting lightly against mine.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No.” The word came out sharp, almost a snap, and I winced. Forcing myself to soften, I added, “Not… not really.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, malyshka. I didn’t mean to grab you. You know I would never hurt you, right? I’d rather kill myself than hurt you.”
She hummed quietly, a sound of understanding. “It’s okay, I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” she said simply. Honestly. “And I’m here if you change your mind. You can tell me anything.”
Her fingers threaded gently through my hair, brushing away the sweat plastered to my forehead. Her touch was grounding, pulling me further from the edge of the nightmare. But the ache in my chest persisted, a gnawing pain I couldn’t shake.
“It hurts,” I admitted, the words slipping out unbidden.
She pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing as she met my gaze. “Where?”
I swallowed hard, the answer sticking in my throat before I finally managed to get it out. “Everywhere.”
Her expression softened, and she leaned in to press a featherlight kiss to my temple. “We’ll make it better,” she promised, her voice steady.
The couch dipped as Gio returned, a glass of something faintly orange in his hand. He handed it to me without a word, his dark eyes searching mine. I took it, the cool glass steadying my shaky grip.
The vodka and orange juice burned as it went down, warmth spreading through my chest like a balm against the cold. I exhaled slowly; the tension easing slightly as Gio set the empty glass aside.
Then he leaned in and kissed me. Roughly.
Fast. Without an ounce of hesitation or anything.
And it worked. For a single second, I didn’t think about my racing heartbeat or nightmare.
I just concentrated on how he felt. His stubble.
The mint on his tongue. The firm, rough pads of his fingers when he held me.
When he pulled back, his gaze flickered to Heaven. “Your turn,” he murmured. “Make him feel better, amore mio.”
Her lips curved into a small, wry smile, and she shifted closer, her hands framing my face as she tilted her head to kiss me. Her lips were softer than Gio’s, her touch light but steady. The kiss was sweet, grounding, pulling me further from the edge of the nightmare.
It wasn’t sweet for long. It became pure filth. The best kind.
Her tongue was in my mouth as she tasted me. Her nails dug into my skin, hard enough to make me moan, as her pretty little pussy rubbed against me, on top of my shorts.
It didn’t take long for me to want her. Need her. But she wasn’t interested in that. She was more inclined to play boss for a while.
Heaven pulled back, smirking at me. “Be a good boy and do whatever I tell you to do. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh, yeah?” I bucked my hips, making her fall closer so I could push myself into her chest, getting a face full of one of my favorite places to suffocate. “I suppose I can do that for you.”
Her first command wasn’t spoken. She just pushed her hand into my hair, grabbing a handful and using the control it gave her to pull my head up. Her lips found mine again, her hips ground harder, and she just silently yanked my shorts and her underwear out of our way.
Much to my chagrin, she didn’t sit on me. She just ground herself over my hardness, covering me with the slickness between her pretty thighs. I lost track of how many minutes passed as she teased me, refusing to give in and let me bring my dick home.
“Let me fuck you, malyshka.” I begged. “I miss your pussy whenever I’m not inside of it.”
With a dark chuckle, she climbed off me. Much to my horror, she got to her feet, moving away until she reached a dining chair Gio must have dragged over, where he had taken a seat.