Chapter 25
Konstantin’s handlocks on mine in a viselike grip as he all but drags me to the stairs. “You can’t just go around hauling me off to God knows where. What will people think?”
He skids to a stop and whirls on me. “Now you’re worried about what they think? You didn’t worry about what they’d think when you dressed in a fucking handkerchief, but this…” He holds up our joined hands and shakes them in my face. “This is what you have a problem with.”
I tear my hand from his, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is watching. Using every bit of patience I can muster, I school my features and keep my voice level. “I have a father. He sucks. I don’t need another one, so back off.”
We stare each other down, neither willing to give in, which always seems to be the way with us now. A server heading in our direction takes one look at Konstantin’s face and shifts course.
“Wait! I want one of those.” With a wary glance at Konstantin, he stops and offers me a nervous smile and my choice of champagne flutes.
I pick the fullest one and wish I could actually grab one for each hand—actually, I snag a second and smile. “Thank you.”
Take my hand now, fucker.
“You’re welcome—uh, m-miss,” he sputters before scurrying away.
Konstantin snatches one of the glasses from my fingertips and tugs me along with him, with less force but no less determination.
I may have gotten my hand free from him once, but the man made sure I wouldn’t again with the way he interlaced our fingers this time.
Damn him!
He marches straight up to where Grigori monitors the party from the bottom of the stairs, only coming to a stop when he’s looming over him.
Grigori’s eyes widen for the briefest moment before he settles into the deceptive look of indifference he’s so good at.
“No one goes upstairs. Got it?” Konstantin snaps out, dropping my hand to lean menacingly over Grigori.
Hands folded in front of him, Grigori glances about and leans in. “Boss, this is a bad id?—”
“I know what you’re going to say. Save it,” Konstantin snaps. “No one goes up. Get someone to cover the other staircase.”
“Christ.” Grigori shoves a hand through his hair in a rare show of frustration and slides his phone from his pocket. “Fine.”
With one last quick look around, Grigori uses his body to conceal the fact he’s unhooking the velvet rope blocking off the stairs and steps back for us to pass.
“And what the hell do I tell Nikolaj if he comes looking for you guys, boss?”
“Tell him we’ve stepped away to discuss wedding plans.”
“Here,” Grigori says, shoving what looks to be an untouched drink into Konstantin’s one empty hand. “Keep your hands full… of anything but her,” he says, sliding a worried look my way before taking in the determined expression, carving hard lines into Konstantin’s face.
Konstantin glances back and forth between my extra glass of champagne and the highball glass in his other hand, then downs the champagne in one greedy swallow before shoving the glass back at Grigori and taking my hand once again.
“Jesus. At least try to look like you’re just checking out the festivities and not—whatever the hell you’re going to do up there.”
I can’t help but glance at the crowd, constantly checking to see if anyone sees us as he drags me along behind him. The music grows louder with every step. The foyer and curving staircase almost create a funnel effect where the noise rises and collects in the shadows.
The minute we clear the top stair, he circles me, slamming down the drink Grigori gave him on a marble table tucked along the wall. Long fingers wind around my neck, squeezing a gasp from my lips.
Taking this chance here, of all places, is absolute insanity. Being on the Grand Serpent’s estate all but guarantees we have cameras on us at all times, in every single corner of this house.
Backing me into the shadows along the wall, pinning me there, he dives his other hand under the slit of my dress, his palm cupping my pussy with a rough squeeze.
Out of control, unpolished, he’s at the mercy of his every emotion.
This could easily get us killed. If anyone catches us, Nikolaj will lose precious standing within the Order he’s counting on to help him wage a war—and to protect me.
It’s the logical thought coursing through my brain because it’s what I’m trained to believe, not because it’s how I actually feel.
Because when it comes down to it, I don’t care.
Everything I’ve done to break free from the cage led me right here, to dependency. On Konstantin, on my brother, now on the Order, and eventually—some powerful, polished man I’ll struggle to remember the name of long after I’ve married him because I feel nothing. Nothing for him—nothing for the marriage and life trapping me.
But right now, in this moment, I get to feel it all.
My yearning to live in this moment overshadows my deep-seated need to make him pay for hurting me in the worst possible way. His betrayal cost me two people when he stained my mother’s memory and turned my hero into a heartless villain.
A delicious hum travels up my throat. The more he believes he’s possessing me, the more I’m actually possessing him. Ruling his every emotion. Prompting his every reckless action.
Konstantin’s fingers flex, his hot, furious gaze going to my mouth. He bites his bottom lip, one long, thick finger sliding past the scrap of fabric covering the heart of me, plunging impossibly deep.
Biting back the hiss trying to break free, I slump under the onslaught, or maybe my greedy body is trying to impale on him further, chasing pleasure I know only he can give me.
“Tell me, Pcholka. Who did this to you? Who is my greedy little pussy soaking for? Rhodes or me?”
He thinks he’s so clever. That he has me. But it’s going to take more than a finger inside me, more than his demanding palm grinding against my clit to make me submit.
Victory appears in a myriad of ways. Trophies and awards amassed on a shelf. Framed photos of achievements displayed in a shrine to a life smashing goals.
But tonight… in this moment, victory is a man on the edge of reason—fiery, impulsive, reckless, and absolutely out of his mind with jealousy and possessiveness.
It’s a man who will burn every rule, every bit of propriety to the ground to take what’s his.
Tipping the champagne glass to my lips, I take a long, slow sip, never tearing my eyes from his. Dragging his finger out of me partially, he adds another. Searching for a sign he’s gained the upper hand in my expression, his fingers tighten around my neck right before I swallow. A strange fascination crosses over his face as he turns his focus to my throat while the bubbling liquid slides down.
“Rhodes.” Logan’s last name becomes the only blade within reach in this place of pomp and circumstance.
Konstantin rears back a thunderous glare in his eyes.
Victory is knowing with one word, I can take absolute control.
“That’s right, Kostya. My pussy is soaking wet for Rhodes.” His hand slackens just a fraction and I wrench free from his grip and dart past him. I seek solace leaning against the edge of the balcony, illuminated by the warm glow of hundreds of tiny lights.
My heart thunders in my chest as I stare at his back. Fingers shaking, I grip my champagne flute like a lifeline until I fear I’ll snap the crystal with the force.
His wide shoulders rise and fall with deliberate breaths. He lifts his head, his silver-streaked hair brushing the top of his jacket.
Seconds tick by as I wait for his next move, my breathing growing more erratic until I’m lightheaded in my anticipation of what he’ll do.
Smooth and purposeful, he carefully turns to face me, his features now blank. Like he’s found a new tactic, and he’s keeping it all to himself until he’s ready to strike. “Did you really think you’d get away with it? That I wouldn’t find out what you’re up to?”
“I wasn’t getting away with anything. Getting away with it means I’m not allowed to do it. I do what I want.”
He takes a step toward me, and another, each one prominent, stalking his prey. “So you think you can marry someone else?”
I raise an eyebrow and smirk, wanting nothing more than to prod him into saying it. Just once confessing what he really wants. “Someone else? As opposed to who exactly?”
He touches me as though I’m his. Calls me his. But when it really comes down to it, when it comes to laying it all on the line, including our very lives, can he confess out loud what he ultimately wants?
And can I live with why he really wants it?
Toe to toe, he stares me down. The confession is there in the swell of his chest as he drags in a rough lungful of air. The truth in his greedy eyes as they roam over me. The admission in the pinched, flat line of his mouth, with his jaw clenched, trapping the words behind his teeth.
“Turn around.”
My mind goes blank at his change of direction. My body responds to his gruff words filled with raw emotion by doing exactly what he says.
“What do you see?”
Resting my forearms on the wrought-iron railing, I take in the party below. The potent scent of gardenias fills my nose from the flower garlands looped through the iron scrolls of the balcony walls.
Dozens of couples glide along the dance floor, their cheeks rosy from the free-flowing alcohol. Surrounding them, people mingle and move, their heads thrown back in laughter. Women lean into one another, hiding conspiratory whispers behind perfectly manicured hands, while their men clap each other on the shoulder and shake hands before moving along to the next conversation, the next connection.
They’re a kaleidoscope of colorfully repeating patterns.
Distinct.
And I’m hovering on the fringes of the ever-changing, chaotic image they make.
Distant.
“Them.”
The tip of his finger lands on the nape of my neck and my senses blur and refocus, all attuned to the one point. He lazily traces the valley of my spine, setting my skin on fire in his wake.
“And if they look up here, what will they see?”
“Us.” I choke out the word as I struggle to fill my lungs with much-needed air.
His hand dips under the edge of my dress, his finger hooking my thong, peeling the thin silk away from where it’s nestled between my cheeks. Right where he put it a couple hours before. Just when I think he’ll slide his hand between my legs again, he changes direction, leisurely gliding back and forth, toying with the string.
Stepping up next to me, he leans in, his heat and scent curling around me, drugging me until I’m strung-out with wanting. “There’s us and there’s them, Pcholka.” His deep voice rumbles along my neck as we take in the picture the guests make below. His fingers continuously tease me until desire takes on a life of its own, pooling heavily in my belly, my nipples become painful points, and my pussy is slick, swollen, and aching.
My skin grows impossibly hot and damp as my breathing quickens. Elusive pleasure whispers from the distance where Konstantin keeps it under lock and key until he’s ready to grace me with the relief it promises.
“There are people who conform to the dangerous worlds they live in. They surrender their moral compass for another. A compass twisted and corrupt with a revised set of rules, keeping them obedient in their new construct.”
He crouches down next to me and reaches his hand under my dress. His fingers wrap around the wet silk between my thighs. Knuckles brush over me, leaving me whimpering in their wake.
“And there are people who refuse to submit to worlds predetermined or otherwise. They relentlessly attack their confines until they find a defect in the cage. They get a taste of life beyond their prison and they’re instantly addicted.”
With a sharp yank, the panties rip, leaving torn fabric draping over his hand. He brings the scrap of silk to his nose and inhales deep. His eyelids sweep shut as he hums in pleasure before slowly opening again as he tucks the underwear in his pocket.
“But it’s not just the world beyond the cage they hunger for, it’s freeing themselves from the cage itself. They crave the battle and its bloody ends as much as they crave their next hit of freedom beyond.”
Turning me to him, his hands curl around my thighs, holding my gown open and exposing me to his ravenous gaze. Countless emotions play over his face. Among them, pure lust that has him sucking in his bottom lip, the tender flesh scraping past his teeth as he lets it go with a gulp and the way he smacks his lips like a man who’s slogged through the desert for hours with no water.
He tips his head back then, a hint of surrender in the gesture. “You’re the freedom beyond the confines I’m addicted to,” he says quietly, his penetrating, dark eyes holding me captive. “And you’re my cage.”
I sway on my feet, blinking down at him, the sting of tears burning in my eyes while heartache sweeps through me, filling my chest with a deep anguish. We’ll never escape each other or this battle we’ve waged between us. Not while we’re alive on this earth, and even in death, I know in my heart he’d hunt endlessly for me in whatever lies beyond.
He keeps me on a delicious roller coaster of long climbing hills to searing pleasure and lust, followed by plummets into pure rage, endless loops of fear, happiness, sorrow, and hope, and under it all, an endless current of love.
Pushing to his feet, he lets my dress fall closed, breaking the spell, leaving behind profound loss, wondering if we’d ever have another honest moment like the one that had just slipped away.
He steps up behind me then, his hard chest against my back where he draws a lazy finger along my arm, making me shiver. “If they looked up here right now, do you think they could see me touching you?”
“Yes.” I push the word past my tight throat.
“Would it be enough to figure out that I’m a heathen who fucked my spirited little goddaughter in the most profane way possible, condemning me to hell?”
The raw ecstasy on his face as he plunged into me on that altar flashes in my mind. The war raging behind his endless dark eyes as his honor yielded to something far more powerful. Something bigger than both of us… destiny. “No.”
“Do you think I can bury my cock in you again right here without them knowing?”
A tight ball of need bursts to life in my stomach. “No,” I croak out.
“No?”
I gulp down another mouthful of champagne. “Konstantin—no. They’ll see.”
“You underestimate me, Pcholka.”
A shock of cool air hits my ass when he jerks the back of my dress up to my waist. “Oh. My. God.”
“There’s an art to fucking in public.” The words slither along the back of my shoulder as he nudges my thighs apart. “First, choose your goal.” He smooths his knuckle along my cheek and takes a wisp of hair between his fingers, rubbing the strands together before tucking them behind my ear.
My heart skips, then sets to racing out of control behind my ribs.
“Do you want them to see you get utterly destroyed by my cock? Or do you want to get away with it?”
His fingers brush over my clit and I cry out. My vision blurs as the threads of panic take hold in my racing heart and I slam my hand over my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut as pleasure pulses deep with every sweep of his devilish finger.
Champagne rocks in my glass as I bring it hastily to my lips, as though I can wash away my whimpers. “And if I want both?”
His fingers disappear. But I’m right there chasing after them, sticking my ass out shamelessly.
“My fearless little goddaughter is greedy.” His zipper sounds impossibly loud behind me. I can’t help but search the crowd below, even though I know it would have been impossible for them to hear. “If we want to live to fuck again—tonight, we get away with it.”
Across the way, I spot Roddick standing stoically at the bottom of the opposite staircase, his gaze sweeping the room and then—Jesus. My breath lodges in my throat and I reach for Konstantin’s hand where it’s holding my gown.
I plan to shove him away, but an exquisite warmth burns through me with Roddick’s narrowed gaze. The crackle of nerves zing just under my skin, as shocked understanding lights his face. My senses heighten. The music, the laughter, the thundering echo of my heart all grow louder, the lights brighter with flashes of color. A vibrant onslaught advancing from every direction.
He knows. I know he knows. And I don’t care. I want him to watch. I ache to be seen. I need to relieve myself of the bone-deep exhaustion I carry every second of every day, hiding my feelings for Konstantin.
The vision of Konstantin’s legs widening enters my peripheral vision. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he’s gripping my thighs, lifting my ass up, making my back arch as I clutch the railing.
“Wet for Rhodes, my ass… your pussy is terrible at hiding your secrets, Pcholka. You’re positively dripping.” With one thrust, he buries his cock to the hilt.
My eyes lock with Roddick’s. My breath lodges in my lungs. His cock stretches me mercilessly until I’m filled with pain. Sweet, forbidden, and addictive, it’s a special agony getting everything you want savagely delivered.
I smile and sink my teeth into my lip, my eyelids growing heavy as my walls strain against his invasion.
Roddick’s lips part in surprise, his eyes narrow, and the red stain of embarrassment blooms on his cheeks.
But he doesn’t look away.
I clench the railing, my knuckles turning white with the force.
A scathing growl tears from his chest as his forehead falls forward into the valley between my shoulder blades. Hot, ragged exhales fan over my spine and his fingertips dig into my thighs as he anchors himself to me. The combination of our labored breaths drowns out the cacophony of sounds from the party below.
“Burying my cock in this weeping, hot cunt is the single most religious experience of my life.” His lips linger along the skin between my shoulder blades, his cock slowly sliding out of me. “You are my religion now. And I’m your most devout worshipper.”
He punctuates the words by sinking his teeth into my flesh where my neck meets my shoulder as he plunges deep once again. The stem of the champagne glass snaps in my hand, leaving a sharp sting behind as the glass slips from my slack fingers and crashes to the floor at our feet. What’s left of the champagne splattering my ankle.
Warmth trails down my finger. I stare blankly at the blood rolling along my finger where the fractured stem sliced me open as threads of bliss flare to life inside me.
“Mmmm, give me that,” he says as he curls his hand around my wrist. He brings my finger to his mouth and drags his tongue along the path of blood streaking along my skin.
My lips part in a sharp hiss when he sucks my finger into his mouth. Warm and wet, he gently sucks, lapping over the wound over and over as he rocks his hips in time with the soothing swipes of his tongue.
Abandoning his grip on my thigh, he strokes over my swollen clit. Every sensation combines into one demanding tempo. His hard and heavy cock rocking into me, his hot, wet tongue laving my skin, and the incessant circles he sweeps relentlessly over my clit, until my legs tremble uncontrollably.
Droplets of sweat bead along my hairline until they break free and trail along my skin. No longer able to draw in enough air to fill my starving lungs, I’m clinging to consciousness by a series of sharp pants leaving me dizzy and off-balance.
Just when I think I’ll crumble into a heap on the floor, he rams inside me, pinches my clit, and bites down on my finger. My eyes shoot open as a blindingly white explosion tears through me. I’m spasming from head to toe, my pussy greedily squeezing Konstantin’s cock.
“Fuck, yes. Choke my cock, Pcholka. Just like that.” My finger pops free from between his lips, my arm falling limply to my side as he yanks me onto his cock with a hard grip on my hip.
Grasping the back of my neck with his other hand, he delivers one last thrust, anchors deep, his cock spasming and filling me with his hot release.
Suppressing my every emotion, every reaction, finally takes its toll as hot tears spill over my eyelids, blazing hot trails down my cheeks.
Clinging to the railing, I struggle to calm my racing heart. When Konstantin slides out of me, loneliness rushes in with the stark realization I can’t have this. That in my head, I’ve made it into something it’s not. I’ve pretended he’s in love with me and not just obsessed with replacing what he can never truly have.
He doesn’t even need to lie to me anymore because I’m all too eager to lie to myself.
In record time he’s righted his tux like he didn’t just fuck my spirit out of my body while drinking my blood before hundreds of people.
“Now that I’ve tasted you, I’m hooked,” he whispers along the shell of my ear. “I will come for you, Pcholka. Remember that. Marry another, and I’ll come. And when I find you, I will fuck you in a pool of his blood right next to his mutilated corpse.”
Because if he can’t have me, no one else can either.