CHAPTER THREE
NATALIA
The air smells of sweat, cheap perfume, and vodka. The bass from the strip club’s speakers thumps through my skull, louder than my own heartbeat. My body moves because it has to, because if I stop, he’ll hit me harder.
Nikolai’s voice cuts through the noise. Cold. Sharp. “Smile, Natalia. They don’t pay to see your miserable face. I’ve seen more life in a corpse, and I’ve seen a lot of fucking corpses.”
I tug at the tiny skirt I’ve been forced to wear, push my lips into a curve and offer a fake smile.
My skin is crawling under all the eyes that devour me.
Men I don’t know, men who pay him to touch me, to use me.
And every time I cry, every time I beg to be left alone.
Every time I tell him I can’t handle any more, not tonight, he tells me I’m lucky. That I’m nothing without him.
He’s always right here in the shadows, watching, reminding me I have an owner, that I’m his to do with as he pleases. I’m nothing more than his property.
Later, he shoves me into a back room, his hand bruises my arm. “Do it right, or you don’t eat,” he growls, pushing me toward another faceless stranger.
I don’t care if I don’t eat. I don’t even care about living anymore because this isn’t living.
I want to die as man after man uses me. But instead, I survive. My mind breaks but my body clings on.
The room turns black and I’m transported to the woods ... the cold weight of a shotgun in my hand, my palms slick with sweat. Nikolai’s sneer as he steps toward me thudding his boots into the snow.
“You’re pathetic. You’re weak,” he snarls.
And then—the recoil, the thunderclap, his eyes wide with disbelief as blood blossoms across his chest.
I’ve shot him.
Again.
I’ve killed Nikolai.
A second time.
But he doesn’t stay dead.
He never stays dead.
He rises from the snow-covered ground, blood dripping from his mouth, his voice distorted and guttural. “You’ll never be free of me, Natalia.” His shadow stretches long, swallowing me whole. “I own you. Even in death.”
His hand reaches out for me; icy fingers brush across my throat as he grips me tight. He closes them like a noose around my neck and I can’t breathe.
“Please, Nik, no,” I choke out and gasp desperately for breath.
Then I wake up screaming.
My body thrashes, drenched in sweat, and the room is spinning around me. For one horrible moment, I still see him standing in the corner, watching. His ghost has followed me straight out of the nightmare.
Then arms wrap around my trembling body. Strong, unyielding. Dmitry.
“It’s me,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with sleep but steady. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re here with me. You’re safe. I’ll always keep you safe.” His voice grounds me.
I clutch onto him desperately; my nails digging into his skin as if letting go will drag me back into that nightmare. My sobs break against his chest. He holds me tighter, his hand cradling the back of my head, nursing me like a defenseless infant.
“He’s gone,” Dmitry whispers, his breath warm against my ear, calming me.
“Nikolai can’t touch you anymore. No one will ever touch you again.
Not while there’s air in my lungs. Not while my heart still beats.
Even in death I’ll find a way to protect you, to keep you safe.
You have my word, Natalia Petrova.” He places my hand against his chest, and I feel the rhythm of his heart.
I bury my face into him, trembling. “He was here ... he was—”
“Shush.” He presses his lips to my temple. “Just a dream. Just a ghost. I’m real. This is real.”
“But ....” I try to speak but my words falter.
“Breathe for me, my Little Sparrow. Now breathe with me.” He inhales gently and I match my breaths with his. “That’s it. You’re okay, remember everyone has trauma therapy can’t fix ....”
“And that’s okay ....” I finish his sentence.”
“You’re okay, we’re okay,” Dmitry continues, “we’ll get through this life ....”
“Together.” I sob.
“Together,” he repeats.
As his heartbeat thuds steadily beneath my cheek, I start to believe him.
Because Nikolai might haunt me forever, but Dima ... my Dima holds me here, in the present, reminding me I’m not his possession.
“You don’t belong to him.” His tone is fierce, low, and alive. “You’re mine. You’re safe with me. You’re my Little Sparrow; you always were and always will be.”
I’m his choice.
And he’s mine.
I nod, though nothing feels certain. The darkness in my mind is still present. But here, in his arms, it feels so much lighter.
“Make me forget my past, Dima,” I plead.
“My sweet Sparrow, I’ll fight the demons that haunt your nightmares, and I’ll become your daydreams. I’ll make you forget every other man.
Every fucking fear you’ve ever felt will disappear now you’re mine again.
I’ll own you the way you want to be owned and give you strength whenever I’m with you, and even when I’m not.
Just thinking of me will scare away any monsters that dare to lurk.
I’ll destroy any man who tries to bring you harm and make him regret the day his mother birthed him.
You’re safe with me, Natalia,” he tells me and gently kisses my cheek.
His hands work to remove the tiny shorts and tank top I wore to sleep in.
I’m not wearing underwear, so he moves easily between my naked legs. His tongue licks me slowly, softly. He grows rougher, more frantic, and then he pants. “Mine.”
Dmitry’s mouth is on mine before I can even breathe. He kisses like he wants to consume me—rough, wild, desperate. His weight presses me into the mattress, and he tugs off his boxers freeing his cock, he wastes no time and when he thrusts into me, I can’t stop the cry that rips out of me.
“Oh, Dima—my Dima,” I gasp, nails digging into his back.
His pace is brutal, his hips slam into me over and over. It should scare me. It should feel too much. But it doesn’t. It’s him. Its love twisted into rage, passion tangled with violence, and it sets me on fire.
“Say it,” he growls against my throat, teeth scraping hard enough to sting. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I moan, my body arching into him, desperate for more. “Always yours.”
Something flickers in his eyes—anger, protection, obsession, love, and his thrusts get harder, sharper, like each one is punishment for ghosts that no longer exist. I know who he’s thinking of.
The monster who once owned me, sold me, used me like I was nothing.
The monster we killed but who still terrifies me in my sleep.
My past flashes like lightning, illuminating old footage in my head, igniting images I wish I could forget. I grab Dmitry harder, clutching him until my nails break skin.
“Harder,” I beg, my voice shaking. “Make me forget him, make me forget everything.”
He answers with violence. I feel his frustration each time his hips slam into mine. His hand tangles in my hair and jerks my head backward, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze is savage, but it’s also full of love—terrifying, raw love.
“He can’t touch you anymore,” he snarls, each word laced with fury. “He’s fucking dead. We killed him together. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.” My voice breaks as I answer and I sob, tears spilling over, mixing with sweat, causing my hair to stick to my face.
“Tell me you want me, Little Sparrow.”
“I want you. Only you, Dima.” I pant and cling to him.
He kisses me like he’s trying to drown me, his teeth biting my lip, his tongue taking everything. My world is only him—the sound of his groans, his scent, the feel of his skin on mine, a beautiful, brutal rhythm that shatters me.
He flips me, drags me onto my knees, and thrusts into me hard, dominating me from behind, I hold onto the sheets and moan out for him. “Dima.”
His hand closes around my throat, not cruel, but firm enough to remind me who I belong to. Who owns me. Who saved me.
“Say it again,” he demands, his voice a low snarl that sends heat crashing through me.
“I’m yours,” I choke out, pushing back against him, my body desperate and undone. “You’re mine, Dima, and I’m yours.”
“My Sparrow. You’re such a good fucking girl, my good girl. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far, you deserve the world.” He spanks my ass and tugs at my hair with his other hand.
The room spins. My body convulses, shaking and sweating. I claw at the sheets and moan out, “Dima!”
I can’t take anymore and his throbbing cock sends me over the edge. He follows with a broken moan, and he spills his hotness into me like he’s claiming me from the inside out.
We collapse together trembling in a tangled mess. His chest is against my back, his arms locking me tight, his lips pressing against my shoulder as though he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
“I’ll kill anyone who ever tries to hurt you,” he whispers, raw and trembling. “I swear it.”
I turn in his arms, my lips brushing his, my voice nothing more than a breath. “I know. That’s why I’m yours.”
And even with the ghosts of my past clawing at me, I believe him. Because Dima isn’t just my love, my soulmate, my trauma bond. He’s my savior, my protector, my home.