Chapter 6 Mikhail
MIKHAIL
The beam of my flashlight catches her face, and fury explodes in my chest like a grenade.
She’s pressed against the collapsed tunnel wall, her eyes wide with terror, mascara streaking down her cheeks.
Her breath comes in short, panicked gasps that echo off the stone.
“Going somewhere, princess?” My voice is deadly calm, but inside I’m a storm of rage and relief so intense it makes my hands shake.
She could have died down here.
Could have gotten lost in these tunnels and starved.
Could have triggered one of the old traps my grandfather installed decades ago.
The thought sends ice through my veins.
“Mikhail.” My name is barely a whisper on her lips. “I can’t…I can’t breathe.”
I close the distance between us in three strides and grab her arm. She’s trembling violently, her skin cold and clammy. “You should have thought about that before you decided to play escape artist.”
“Please.” She claws at my hand, not trying to get away but holding on like I’m her lifeline. “The walls. They’re closing in. I can’t…”
Her eyes roll back, and I catch her before she hits the ground. Damn it. This isn’t fear of me. This is something else entirely.
I scoop her into my arms, and she buries her face against my chest, her fingers fisting in my shirt.
Her whole body shakes with silent sobs.
The rage drains out of me, replaced by something I don’t want to name.
“I’ve got you,” I hear myself say. “Just breathe.”
I carry her through the tunnels, my flashlight tucked under my arm, casting erratic shadows on the walls.
She weighs almost nothing, and I’m acutely aware of every curve pressed against me, every shuddering breath she takes.
By the time we reach the wine cellar, her breathing has steadied slightly, but she hasn’t let go of my shirt.
I kick open the door to the stairwell and climb toward the main house, my men stepping aside as I pass.
Their expressions are carefully neutral, but I can see the questions in their eyes.
Let them wonder. Right now, all that matters is getting her somewhere safe.
I take her straight to our bedroom and kick the door shut behind us.
The fire still crackles in the hearth, casting warm light across the gray sheets.
I set her on the edge of the bed, and she immediately curls into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“Look at me.” I crouch in front of her, forcing my voice to soften. “Sophia. Look at me.”
Her blue eyes meet mine, and I see the raw vulnerability there. It hits me like a punch to the gut.
“Tell me what happened,” I say.
“I…” She swallows hard. “The walls. I panicked. I…my father locked me in a closet. For hours. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. I thought I was going to die in the dark.”
The confession hangs between us, and I feel something crack in my chest.
I know what it’s like to be trapped by your own father’s cruelty.
To carry that fear into adulthood.
“You’re safe now,” I tell her, and I mean it.
“Am I?” Her laugh is bitter. “You kidnapped me. Forced me to marry you. Threatened everyone I love. How is that safe?”
She’s right, of course. I’m the monster in her story. But right now, with her looking at me like that, I want to be something else. Something better.
“You tried to escape.” I stand and move to the dresser, pulling out a length of silk rope I keep for…other purposes. “That requires punishment.”
Her eyes widen as I turn back to her. “No. Please, Mikhail. I can’t be tied up. I can’t…”
“Relax.” I sit beside her on the bed, the rope dangling from my fingers. “I’m not going to chain you in the dark. But you need to understand that actions have consequences.”
I reach for her wrist, and she flinches but doesn’t pull away.
Slowly, carefully, I wrap the silk around her wrist.
It’s soft, luxurious, nothing like the zip ties from that first night. I’m careful around the old bruises and scabs.
“This is so you remember,” I murmur, tying her wrist to the bedpost. “So you remember that you belong to me now.”
“I hate you,” she whispers, but there’s no conviction in it.
“I know.” I tie her other wrist, leaving enough slack that she can move comfortably. “But your body tells a different story.”
I trail my fingers down her arm, and she shivers. Not from fear this time. From desire.
“Don’t,” she says, but her voice is breathy, wanting.
“Don’t what?” I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. “Don’t touch you? Don’t make you feel good? Don’t remind you that you’re mine?”
“All of it.” But even as she says it, she arches toward me.
I pull back to look at her.
Really look at her.
Her hair is a mess, dirt smudged on her cheek, her dress torn at the hem.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
“You scared me tonight,” I admit, the words surprising us both. “When I realized you were gone, when I thought about what could have happened to you in those tunnels…”
“Why do you care?” Her eyes search mine. “I’m just a tool for your revenge, remember?”
“You’re more than that. You’re mine.” The admission costs me, but it’s true. Somewhere between the forced wedding and now, she’s become something I can’t define. Something dangerous.
I cup her face in my hands and kiss her. Not rough and claiming like before, but slow and deep. Tasting her. Savoring her.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat and kisses me back. Her bound hands reach for me as much as they can.
I break the kiss and rest my forehead against hers. “I should punish you properly. Make you regret ever trying to leave.”
“Then why don’t you?” she challenges.
Instead of answering, I strip slowly, letting her watch. Her eyes track every movement, her breathing quickening as I reveal more skin.
When I’m finally naked, I see the hunger in her gaze, the way she bites her lower lip.
“Your turn.” I move to the bed and reach for the zipper of her dress.
She doesn’t protest as I peel the fabric away, unhooking her bra and untying and retying each arm.
I take my time removing her simply cotton panties, my fingers skimming over her skin, learning every curve and hollow.
When she’s finally bare before me, I just look at her.
Memorize her.
The way the firelight plays across her skin.
The rapid rise and fall of her chest.
The flush spreading down her neck.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, climbing onto the bed beside her.
I start at her neck, pressing soft kisses along her throat. She tilts her head back, giving me better access, and I smile against her skin.
So responsive. So perfect.
I work my way down, taking my time with her breasts. Circling each nipple with my tongue before taking it into my mouth.
She gasps and arches into me, her bound hands pulling at the silk.
“Mikhail,” she breathes. “Please.”
“Please what?” I move lower, kissing down her stomach. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want…” She hesitates, and I look up at her.
“Say it.”
“I want you to make me forget.” Her voice breaks. “Make me forget everything except this.”
Something in my chest tightens. I understand that need. The desire to lose yourself in sensation, to escape the weight of your own thoughts.
“I can do that.” I hesitate, my gaze snagging on the bonds holding her to the bed. “Do you want me to remove these?”
She tugs at them gently. “No…they’re fine.”
With a crooked smile, I settle between her thighs and taste her.
My tongue is soft as it slips through her folds, teasing, then hard as I press against her clit.
She cries out, her hips lifting off the bed. I hold her steady and work her with my tongue, finding the rhythm that makes her shake.
“Oh god,” she moans. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I have no intention of stopping. I want to hear her scream my name. Want to feel her come apart under my mouth.
It doesn’t take long. She’s already so close, so wound up from fear and adrenaline and desire. When the orgasm hits her, she sobs my name, her whole body convulsing.
I kiss my way back up her body and reach up to untie her wrists. The silk falls away, and immediately her hands are on me, pulling me closer.
“I need you inside me,” she whispers against my lips. “Now.”
I position myself at her entrance and push in slowly. She’s so wet, so ready, and the feeling of her wrapped around me steals my breath.
“Look at me,” I command, and her eyes lock with mine.
I start to move, keeping the pace slow and deep. This isn’t about punishment or possession anymore, and that terrifies me.
She wraps her legs around my waist, taking me deeper. Her nails dig into my scalp, and I welcome the pain. It grounds me. Reminds me this is real.
“Mikhail.” My name is a prayer on her lips. “I feel…”
“I know.” I kiss her deeply, swallowing whatever she was going to say. “I feel it too.”
I increase the pace, driving into her harder. She meets me thrust for thrust, our bodies moving together like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
Like we were made for this.
For each other.
The thought should scare me. Instead, it pushes me closer to the edge.
“Come for me,” I growl against her neck. “Let me feel you.”
She shatters around me, her inner walls clenching so tight I see stars. I follow her over, burying myself deep as my release tears through me.
For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled together, our hearts racing in sync.
I should pull away.
Should put distance between us.
But I can’t make myself move.
Instead, I roll to my side and pull her against me. She fits perfectly in my arms, her head on my chest, her breath warm against my skin.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she murmurs sleepily.
“No,” I agree. “It wasn’t.”
But I’m glad it did. Even though I know I shouldn’t be.
Her breathing evens out, and I think she’s fallen asleep. I press a kiss to the top of her head, allowing myself this one moment of weakness.
“What are you doing to me?” I whisper into the darkness.