Chapter 7
An hour passedsince the kiss and still the man won’t speak to me. I feel his lips all the way to my bones. It doesn’t matter how much he fights it, his mouth on mine, devouring me, it only bolsters my resolve. Even if he can’t let himself consider a future with me, there’s only one person I can imagine losing my virginity to, and it’s him.
He is the one who bought me. Oh, the irony.
The candles flicker, straining to stay lit in the pool of melted wax flooding them. He’s sitting by the door, his back to the wall, his gaze on me from as far away as he can get. When I look him in the eye, he looks away.
He’s full of shame and for once, I have none.
He pushes to his feet and blows out the one nearest him. It’s okay. It’s just one. There’s still more lit. I bite back the whimper when he blows out the second. Holding my breath, I pray that he’ll stop, so I don’t have to tell him the truth of my fear, but then he blows out the third and I wheeze out a lungful of air.
“Fuck,” he mutters. I hear the sound of a lighter as I grip the edge of the mattress and focus on moving air in and out.
“Why are you so paralyzed by the dark?”
“Vlad.”
Four letters. One name. And really, is there much more to say?
My oldest brother—half brother—has a taste for torture. Evil through and through, his only competition to be the most sinister of monsters is against himself.
“Your father indulged the little shit for far too long.” Frustration laces his voice as he struggles to dig through a bin of supplies, then pulls out a couple fresh candles.
“My father covets him. He’s exactly the kind of evil my father wishes he could have been.”
“Nikoletta—”
“Don’t. You know it’s true. Besides, you have no idea the things he’s done to me. No one knows.”
“Tell me.” He lights the first candle and sets it on a makeshift nightstand next to me.
“What part do you want to hear about? How he used to lock me in rooms in the dark and leave me for hours on end? Or maybe how he started locking me in smaller places when rooms no longer held a thrill for him.” A humorless laugh scrapes from my throat and dies.
He crouches next to me and lights the next candle. Despite his proximity, the chill of panic reaches into the deepest parts of me and I shiver, wishing I could curl into him again.
“The best was the false wall in Father’s wine cellar. A space no more than three feet tall and full of bugs. He shoved me in and locked me there for hours while he taunted me through the wall.”
A slew of Russian curses cuts through the air. I’m stupid to take solace in them, but I do.
“As horrible as it was, none of it could match what came next. When locking me in small spaces no longer held a thrill, he locked me in the dark with him. And nothing is more terrifying than being trapped with Vlad in the dark.”
He reaches for me then, smoothing the hair from my temple. His hands shake with barely restrained rage for which he has no target right now. “What did he do to you?”
“Whatever he wanted.” I can feel him willing me to look at him, but now it’s my turn to hide.
“Did he…” His words trail off and he swallows thickly. A giant of a man, my own warrior, and he can’t bring himself to say the words.
But I know what he’s asking. Every woman knows exactly what he’s asking.
“Yes. He touched me.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. A growl of anger and agony tears from his throat. He grabs my chin, his grip almost punishing, and turns my face up to his. “He’ll pay for this, Pcholka. I promise you. He. Will. Pay.”
“When, Kostya?” My voice breaks and I hate it. I hate the weakness in the emotion. Anger is better. I cling to my dreams of revenge and when I speak, my voice is stronger. “When will he pay? How much more of me will he take before he does?”
Violence ripples through him, anger blooming in red slashes over his sharp cheekbones. “He won’t take one more piece of you, Pcholka. He’ll never get near you again.”
I reach out while he’s distracted by his need for vengeance and trace my fingers over his full bottom lip. His taste is a part of me now; nothing will ever wash him away. “He takes now, even when he’s not here. He made sure of it. Made sure I can never really escape him.”
He kisses my fingertip, all the reasons he clings to as to why he shouldn’t seemingly forgotten for this brief moment in time. “Nikolaj will win. I have no doubt he”ll win.”
“Why do you have so much faith in him?”
He lifts his face, jutting out his chin with a hint of pride. “Because he”s smart, cunning, and maddeningly patient. But also, he has a level of compassion for his family that is unmatched. He didn’t get it from your father.”
“Mama,” I whisper. Nothing has been the same since I lost her. Since this life took her from us by whittling away who she was until all that was left was a shell of a woman plagued with paranoia. It happened so fast. In less than a year, she went from being full of life with endless energy and the best hugs to a hollowed-out version of herself with no life in her eyes. And just when I thought I couldn’t take one more day seeing her that way, she ended it by throwing herself from a cliff into the sea at our vacation villa.
Women in the Bratva break. They always break.
I’ve never been able to look at the ocean since.
“Yes. Your mother.” He lets go of my hand and settles against the wall next to me with a wince on the cold, mercilessly hard stone beneath him. The stubborn ass should just get in the bed. It’s big enough for both of us, but nope. That fucking honor slides right back into place.
“But Nikolaj is still a man. Even if he wins and rises to power. I’m still the princess of the Romanoff empire—just a bargaining chip. If you don’t think he”ll default to those old fucking moves and reduce me to something that is passed between families, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
His gaze snaps to mine, his eyes full of challenge. “You think so little of me.”
“You’re one man against a centuries-old force, Kostya. One man.” A smile teases my lips at the look of sheer disgust on his face. God, how he hates being reminded he’s human. “And from where you’ve all kept me perched, I’ve had nothing but time to see what no one else can.”
His body stills. He almost looks relaxed, but looks are deceiving. He’s spent years softening his hard edges around me, protecting me from the brutalness of our world. But I’ve seen it despite the ways he tries to hide it. And sometimes, it’s he who’s hidden from me under the stifling darkness engulfing me.
“What did you see, Pcholka?”
“Tradition demands Nikolaj use me to attain power. He’s formed from this same poison I am. And while we may be better than our brother, purer of heart, more honorable when it comes down to it, we will do what needs to be done. That’s why I put my own price tag on my virginity. Because I know, if it came down to saving the empire, he would fucking trade me or sell me for what’s mine. And I’m terrified I will fall in line just like the women before me.”
I’m gasping now, the agonizingly slow death of my spirit over the course of the years looming before me. But this one thing… this one experience. It can be mine. I need it to be mine.
“To the rest of you, I’m a means to an end. Nothing more.”
“You’ve never been a means to an end to me. Never.”
“But is it enough to stop you from doing your duty?” When he grimaces, I shake my head. “Don’t answer that. I already know. But hearing it from your lips would cut too deep, Kostya.” I blink away the moisture in my eyes and meet his eyes. “My virginity was the one thing I had that I wanted to be mine and mine alone.”
Exhaustion engulfs me and in the looming silence, my heavy eyelids sink closed, but it’s okay. He’s here. He’s protecting me. Today I’m mine. Tomorrow, I just don’t know. I sink under the covers deeper, stealing every bit of warmth I can for a chill that never quite escapes me. I have no money, no friends, nothing to help me in my escape, but none of that matters. I have to go. I just need one opportunity, whether it comes from their complacency or utter chaos, it doesn’t matter. The unknown is a dark swath, but for now, I have the oblivion of sleep, where the dreams of him come.
The only place I can have him as I truly want him.
It’s in this place without time, without space, where he sheds duty and touches me. Every glide of his fingers over my skin awakening my nerve endings before setting me on fire. I’m drowning in a sea of lightheadedness as his lips trail over me, tracing the path of his fingers.
Darting out his tongue, he drags along the valley between my breasts, his gaze dark, seductive, and never leaving mine.
The ache for him runs so deep it takes my breath away. Unable to bear another minute of his torture, I reach for the one place he’s avoided touching. Wet and throbbing, the minute I find my clit, I’m grinding against my fingers, a cry tearing?—
“Damn you, wake up!”
My eyes flutter open and he’s there. Looming over me, his fingers digging into my arms with a rough shake. But he’s not hungry for me; he’s seething, his every breath tearing through gritted teeth.
“What’s wrong?”
“You. You’re killing me. Jesus, Pcholka.” He lets me go then, spinning away from me, and I fall back on the bed. Sweat dots my temples, my hair clinging to my damp skin. The ache from the dream, it’s still here, and when I glance down, my hand is buried between my thighs behind my white panties.
Embarrassment is but a flash as I watch him seethe, realizing how something so natural had such a powerful hold on him.
“I can’t control what I do in my sleep, Kostya. If you would just go to sleep, you won’t have to see it.”
He’s pacing now with his hands balled in fists at his sides. His dress shirt hangs open, giving me a peek at his wide, hard chest. “I need darkness to sleep, Pcholka. Light means I’m exposed.”
But it’s not the physical exposure plaguing him now. It’s the inescapable truth in his heart provoking him, pummeling him with a truth that won’t hide one more second.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, the t-shirt I put on to sleep grazing the tops of my thighs. I bite back a whimper at the feel of cotton gliding over my skin. Stepping into his path, I force him to stop. “I’m vulnerable in the darkness and you’re vulnerable in the light.”
“It seems so, yes,” he growls, a sound of pure frustration breaking free.
“What if there’s a solution?” I run my fingers along the buttons of his shirt and peel the fabric over his shoulders, careful of the wound he must have bandaged while I was in the tub.
Violent fingers grip my wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Making different memories of the dark.”
His fingers clutch the back of my hair and he yanks my head back. “Bite your tongue.”
“I’d rather you bite it.”
Lungs heaving with a battle of wills inside him, he lowers his forehead to mine. “Damn you. You must stop this. This road doesn’t end well for either of us. Blood and death. No happy ending. Is that what you want?”
Leaning up on my tiptoes, my mouth hovering over his, I cup his face. “I hate this life I’m cursed with, Kostya. Is it so wrong to want something for just me?”
“No, Pcholka, it’s not. But I can’t give you this.”
“Fuck my virginity?—”
His tortured groan takes me in a choke hold where all I want to do is soothe him.
“Sleep with me.”
“Pcho—”
I press my fingertip to his mouth. “Just sleep. I can face the dark if I’m in your arms, Konstantin. Please.”
He doesn’t speak. His eyelids sink shut and his shoulders relax. With his nod of surrender, I take a step back and climb back under the covers while he blows out all but one candle. At the edge of the bed, the flicker of light illuminates the doubts raging through him and every second of looming darkness without him touching me plunges me into all-consuming fear.
“I’m exhausted, Kostya. Please.”
He blows out the last candle and the swift rise of panic grips me by the throat. The complete darkness unlike anything I’ve known being in this crypt squeezes around me.
But then the mattress dips and he’s there, lining his body up with mine. His bare chest a broad warm force keeping me anchored to safety. I lay my palm over his heart, reassured by the rhythmic pounding behind his ribs.
I focus on each one, counting them in my head until the bands tightening around me loosen, and my breathing grows deeper, my breaths longer. Unable to see, my other senses take over. The musky scent of his cologne, faint but still clinging to his skin. His forearms brushing over my shoulder as he threads his fingers through my hair tentatively, like he doesn’t know what to do next or how to treat me.
Growing bolder, I trace my fingertips along his chest, the curls covering hard muscles and hiding a roadmap of scars he’s picked up along the way. Some jagged and raised, others no more than a barely perceptible line.
“So many scars. How did you get them?”
He stills under my palm. “Protecting you.”
The air stutters out of my lungs. “What?”
He takes my hand and runs it over the first scar. “When you were five, the Povlovs tried to kidnap you. I intercepted their men making their way up the stairs to your room while you slept.”
Ignoring my gasp, he moves my hand to the next, a raised scar, more of an oval between his heart and shoulder. “When Vlad was attacked in the schoolyard, your father ordered another child’s death, despite my protests. The family, in turn, went after you. This was the bullet they aimed at your head the next day at the park.”
A soundless tear breaks free and streams down my face, tumbling into the hair at my temple. “How many scars are from protecting me, Kostya?”
“All of them.” Tipping my face up to his, he brushes at the damp skin beneath my eyes. He can’t see one single bit of me, but it doesn’t matter. He’s so attuned to my proximity, he doesn’t need light.
He knows every square inch of me, without ever having memorized my body with his own hands.
Our history goes so much deeper than even I know.
“This is your love for me,” I whisper as I finally understand everything… and perhaps nothing at all.
“Yes, Pcholka. You were born to your mother and father, but make no mistake, you’ve always been mine.” His voice deepens, turning gruff and jagged with the words that follow. “What you’re asking of me—it’s not so easy for me to accept whatever this is between us.”
“You know what it is, Kostya.” His admission, even as he evades the stark truth, gives me a kernel of hope and for right now, it’s enough.
With a snarl of pure aggravation rumbling from his throat, he snatches my hand from his chest.
“What—”
“I smell you, dammit!” Grasping the fingers I had buried between my thighs, he brings them to his lips.
When his hot, wet mouth closes over my fingers, my eyes roll back in my head. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh with every hum that vibrates over my skin. Each sweep of his tongue around each digit leaves me gasping and frantically clutching him with my free hand.
“What have we done, Pcholka?” His anguished murmur over my fingers sends me in a spiral of longing. I can’t stay still, every part of me seeking, struggling to get closer to him.
Heat swallows me whole. When I cry out in sheer frustration, he’s there, his mouth on mine, devouring all my sounds like he can collect them deep inside and keep me to himself.
I reach for him. With one brush of my hand, I find him hard and heavy between us.
“No. Not that. Not here.”
“I swear to God, if you don’t?—”
At his deep anguished laugh, the words die in my throat. “You need relief,” he murmurs, raining kisses along my throat.
“Please… I can’t—” He bites the tendon in my neck, plunging me into desire so fast and hard I’m grinding helplessly against him, the sound of my whimpers mixing with our heaving, ragged breaths.
Curling his large, strong hand along the back of my thigh, he opens me, dragging my bent knee over his hip. So freaking close, but not close at all.
But then his thigh is lodged against the heart of me and his hand slides to my ass where he guides me into rocking against him to alleviate the ache.
“That’s it,” he whispers over the shell of my ear, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine and goosebumps over my skin. “Ride me, Pcholka. I can’t give you what you want, but I can let you take what you need.”
I hate his words, because they mean only right now, in this moment cloaked in darkness. I’m only to ride his thigh until I come when what I really need is to control my destiny. To not let something like my innocence be the pawn between superpowers.
And as angry as it makes me, every flex of his thigh grinding along my clit swipes at my ultimate goal. The torture of wanting him for so long is so great, I can’t help but take this—take the little he’s offering me.
My belly jumps as my need coils impossibly tight. In my eagerness to ride him hard, I’m bowed off the bed, but he’s holding me, always keeping me from falling.
Even now, he’s torturing himself, giving me just enough, but keeping us both from tumbling, and the truth of that burns through me as the first waves of my orgasm take hold.
I love and hate him for it.
As I break, as the sharp pleasure slices through me, I’m beating at his chest, thrashing in his arms, loathing how he’s the last lock to my freedom. An immovable force sacrificing himself to keep me caged in a reality I detest with everything I am.
In the aftermath, unable to speak, unable to move, he smooths a hand over my leg and pulls me against him, tucking me right along his heart.
The heart that won’t lie, and with every frantic beat tells the truth of just how much he wants me too.