Chapter 23 #2
I hear the music build to a crescendo, but it only spurs us on higher. Spurs us to get closer, to orbit further into the other's embrace.
I see no one else.
In this moment, I am suspended in time. All that exists here are lightning storms set behind gray eyes. Tattooed fingers clutching at my waist. Soft strands of silky black hair twisting around my fingers.
Just when it feels like we can't get closer, like the next step is only to fold into each other forever, a rough hand grasps Alexei's shoulder. He jerks hastily. Our movements stop as we both jar at the intrusion.
Alexei drops me like I burn.
Victor uses the grip he has on his brother's shoulder to pull him farther away.
"Thanks for holding down the fort, brother, but I'll take it from here," Victor says, dark menace evident in a tone I've never heard him use before.
I struggle to catch my breath, panting heavily, and Alexei fares no better. Though he does give in first, giving his brother a nod before storming off into the crowd.
Victor regards me with a raised brow and then offers me his own hand. Through my stuttered breathing I nod politely and take his hand.
He pulls me into a dance that is much simpler than his brother's, but with an intention of intimacy that is no less lacking.
He holds me together as we sway back and forth in a basic hold.
He pulls me in until my head rests on his shoulder.
It's literally the closest we've ever gotten.
If Anton felt the need to forewarn me, then I suspect this is a show of power from Victor.
To remind everyone who I am meant to belong to.
"That was quite the dance," Victor says.
"Was it?" I say.
"My brother is an excellent dancer. So are you, I see."
"I try," I shrug. Pulling back from Victor, I do my best to give him a smile and redirect the conversation to lighter topics.
"You enjoying the party as much as I am?" I ask.
"I do hate a good party," Victor smiles, though I doubt that is true. "Too much posturing."
I can't help but laugh. "Why do I feel like you're in your element?"
He sways us a bit more. "I suppose I am," he says, smiling out into the crowd. "I'm good at networking."
"No better than a politician," I joke, shaking my head.
He gives me a laugh and we settle into a comfortable silence as we go through our movements. I relax, assuaging myself that Victor wasn't bothered by what he saw.
As we move around the dance floor, I find that we're being watched. Intently.
At the far corner of the room, Alexei stands leaning against a pillar with his arms folded tight and one leg propped over the other. He's nearly hidden in the shadows, but he's just visible enough that I can see his angry glare.
Next to him, Isla looks stunning in a floor length red dress. She follows his line of sight to us and sighs, saying something passionate to him that he ignores. They continue to argue until something she says has Alexei glaring at her instead.
And then he charges across the room. Coming right for me. Again.
She grabs his hand back, stopping him. His eyes are still locked fiercely on where Victor and I dance. Even as Isla desperately tugs at him still. Even as she pulls him forcefully until he stumbles.
When she lets him go, he charges for us again and my breath hitches.
Isla folds her arms, looking annoyed as she says one word that I can't make out. But that's all it takes. Just one word. Alexei stops. He turns over his shoulder to her, then looks back at me with pained eyes.
I watch it as he hardens, curses and then levels me with a dark look before he storms off completely, shoulder checking Isla on the way.
My gut plummets.
Did I want him to come to me?
Oh no. No. No. No. This won't do.
I fucking hate it when my uncle is right.
The music stops and I pull away from Victor as fast as I can. "Thank you for the dance," I say.
"Save me another before the end of the night," Victor says but I barely hear the reply as, against all rational thought and better judgment, I rush off the dance floor in search of Alexei.
I narrowly miss shoulder checking Isla on my way through. I brush past her as I stomp after Alexei, swerving through the party until eventually I find him alone, pacing in the darkened kitchen.
"What the fuck is your problem?" I sneer.
He startles, shocked to see I've followed him. "I've got no problem." He looks like he wants to be calm, but his teeth are clenched and he's nearly shaking with anger. "I've got nothing for you, actually."
"Stop looking at me then," I whisper-shout, arms-flailing to make my point. "Just, whatever it is you're doing. Stop it. All of it."
"Me?" He launches forward. "Me? You're the one giving me 'fuck me eyes' in front of the whole room."
"Are you insane?" My eyes nearly bug out of my head.
"Possibly. But you're giving me a run for my money." He scoffs, turning away as he puts exasperated hands on his hips.
"I was not giving you 'fuck me eyes'. You wish," I scoff and roll my eyes as I fold my arms.
Angry eyes snap to me. "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last woman left on this planet," he says, spewing vitriol as he steps right into my space, backing me up against the counter as he does.
Though I don't think he means to do that.
"I'd rather chafe my own fist tugging my cock for eternity than put it anywhere near you. "
Dick!
I slap him and his head reels from the contact, his jaw contracting.
He slams his palms on the counter either side of me, boxing me in, and looking like rage embodied. Like he could kill me by ripping apart my gut with his bared teeth. He leans down further into my space.
"You. Dare. Touch. Me."
I try to slap him again.
Harder. He deserves it. But his hand snaps up to grip my wrist instead. He growls, dropping my wrist like it burns and instead grabbing my hips like he's going to move me out of his way and out of his mind.
Instead of pushing me away, like I'm sure he intended, he lifts me. He parks my butt on the countertop and my dress rides up as he smoothly steps between my open legs.
His eyes bulge and I'm sure mine do too.
What the fuck am I doing? I've lost my mind.
In my mind, I beg for this to stop all the while begging for more.
He looks down to where his hands fist on my hips in the dress. Silk curling around his tattooed fingers. We both stare down at his hands until his thumb starts to draw strokes and - fucking kill me for this one - I arch into the contact.
My breasts brush his chest and his hands come slamming around me to grasp my waist in full and drag me against him.
We are so. Fucking. Close.
It feels like I'm suffocating.
I clasp at his shoulders and moan as his hips press into mine. I can feel a very sizable bulge pressing where he stands between my legs.
"Shit," he whispers. He holds me close and strokes down my spine. In response I begin embarrassingly massaging his muscles. Not for his pleasure, but for mine.
Alexei is ripped and dangerous and fucking sin embodied.
He isn't sweet and gentle like Nicholas... or even Victor, rather everything he does hurts. Even the things that feel good.
I throw my head back and he takes the invitation, leaning his head into the crook of my neck, his breath fanning along my collarbone.
Something in my chest starts to break.
"You feel..." he breathes along my neck like he's drinking me in, and I moan.
We're still only touching. And yet, it's like we both hold back because we know any more friction than this and we will both die. We both know, before we have even tested it, that we are nuclear.
He pulls back and looks at me with a pained, horrified expression. Like he can't fucking believe what he is doing and to be honest, I can't either. I'm sure that confused, horrified expression is mirrored in my own gaze.
A flash of blonde hair catches my eye and over Alexei's shoulder I find Isla standing in the doorway, arms folded and smirking. Alexei's head snaps up and he follows my gaze, stumbling back to drop his hands away from me like I'm diseased.
Alarmingly, my first thought is that the absence of his hands hurts.
"You," Alexei says, wistfully like he is just remembering where he is. He steps back another few paces, practically tripping over himself. His gaze locks on mine and turns venomous. "Stay the fuck away from me, princess."
Then he storms from the room, pushing past Isla as he does.
"Well," Isla says, laughing as she approaches me. "That was interesting."
"I-" ... have no fucking idea what to say to her. Sorry for dry humping your boyfriend? I'm not sure why I liked it when he repulses me? I sheepishly close my legs, step down from the counter, and go with the truth. "I - I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. That was-"
Isla smiles knowingly, leaning against the bench as she sing-songs happily. "Well, I'd say if you had half as much chemistry with Victor as you do with his brother, this marriage wouldn't be such a problem."
"What?"
"Watching you with Victor is like watching someone who hates kids hug a baby." At my obviously stunned expression, she chuckles. "You know? They want to like it, think they should like holding the baby, but really they're just disgusted."
I can't help turn up a small smile at that. "Victor is...fine. Alexei is repulsive," I say. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't - ugh, that was rude. I know he's your boyfriend."
She frowns.
"Alexei isn't my boyfriend." As if she's just worked something out she gives me an incredulous look, followed by a smirk as she shakes her head in the direction Alexei just went. "Did he tell you that?"
I ignore her. "Fuck buddy then?"
"Why do you care?" She raises a single brow at me. Touché. "It's actually neither. That's fucking disgusting. He's like my brother."
"What? He... made it seem?"
She smiles again. "Oh, he's such a devious little fool." With that, she comes toward me and links our arms together. "Come. Let's walk back together."