Iskra
My entrance was rubbed raw from my position, but as my faculties returned I listened for any sign that Runa had woken. Silence. I relaxed and lay my cheek against the pillow that smelled of his body wash.
After a few moments his weight shifted. A wooden drawer opened.
I closed my eyes as cold metal slipped onto my finger.
Then another.
“These never come off again,” he said, his tone cold and hard. The warning beneath it went unheard by no one.
I nodded. I couldn’t speak.
It was stupid of me to presume that a man could change simply because he had adapted for Runa’s sake. I was back to being property. The rings on my finger confirming what the trial run had always meant.
There were no tears. I had none left, or perhaps I had simply run out of the kind that this particular moment deserved. I closed my eyes as his body settled over my back, his weight familiar and immovable.
“Welcome back,” he taunted.
I was a damn fool.
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My eyes were drooping as I fed Runa. Too early to be fully awake, too late to fall back asleep. The dawn feed was easier being in the same room as her rather than trudging down the corridor when he called my phone so my breasts could make an arrival.
His eyes were hooded as he watched us. He lay closer than usual, his fingers stroking Runa’s hair and cheek while she fed—those long thick fingers gentle as ever when he handled our daughter.
I discreetly rubbed my thumb across the underside of the rings.
It felt odd having them there again. Yet somehow not as claustrophobic as before.
“Runa Valeria Dragunova,” he murmured, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “Our daughter is stunning.”
Not a Kozlova anymore.
His hair brushed against my bare chest and I was reminded immediately of why I ached—the same sore spots from how he had held me in position, the chafing from his over-exuberance, the same smug satisfaction still radiating off him this morning as though he had filed it under victories and moved on.
Mother Nature set us all up to ensure we continued to procreate. No one asked our opinion on the matter.
I looked down at my sleeping child as his fat head moved away and felt the rush of warmth in my chest—immediate and absolute, the soft glow of love for my Runa that existed entirely outside of everything else in this room.
The bastard.
Runa would make a brilliant big sister. I had already calculated roughly how old she would be if I conceived in the next month or two. All I had to do was keep Vadim from going on a power trip—or remind myself that he had a faulty male brain whenever he did.
My eyes wandered until they landed on his.
The heated gleam in them told me he wasn’t done with me yet.
He slipped his hands beneath Runa and slowly began to slide her toward him.
Runa’s lips clamped down on my nipple, making me glare at him—but then she sighed and released me, curling into her father’s bare chest with the complete contentment of someone who had no idea what was happening around her and didn’t need to.
With a silent groan I fell back onto the pillows and stared at the ceiling. No gold left in the rebuild. It must have cost considerably to repair all the damage I caused. I waited for the guilt.
It didn’t arrive.
I’d do it all over again if he brought another woman into this room.
The bed dipped as he returned, completely oblivious to the hostile thoughts lurking in his immediate vicinity. He picked up from where Runa left off as I stared at his thick head of hair. I combed my fingers through it before tightening my grip, feeling the roots pull.
His eyes flicked up. Silently promising retribution.
What could this man do that he hadn’t already done?
And did I truly want to know?
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Laughter and light intruded on my sleep.
I tugged the covers over my face until I heard his whispering and Runa’s giggle.
The man had kept me for most of the night.
I rubbed my thumb against the rings and lowered the covers to find my angel dressed in a knitted onesie—warm enough for autumn, breathable natural yarn, someone had been shopping.
I sat up, ignoring my aching muscles, and raised my hands for her.
“Come here, lapochka,” I murmured with a bright smile.
He strode across the room, leaving the curtains open, and held her out to me.
I had heard them leave earlier but I couldn’t have moved even if I’d tried.
“Mama is finally awake,” he said, kissing the top of her head before he passed her over.
She clung to me for a few moments before she began to babble—probably telling me about her morning, or lodging a formal complaint about the lack of breasts during it. She nuzzled her face into my shoulder before swinging her head and considerable body weight toward her food source.
Vadim moved back. Only as far as his armchair.
He rarely missed a feed. At first I had assumed it was suspicion—keeping watch in case I tried something. Now I could see it clearly for what it was.
Obsession.
I glanced away, musing on the intensity of the eyes watching us, and decided his attention was split equally between the pair of us. In mere weeks Runa would begin sampling solid food and her need for me would lessen.
My grip around her back tightened. I kissed her little head and whispered to her—the sweet words I saved only for her, the ones that belonged to no one else in this room.
I wanted her to grow up independent. But the greedy mother in me wanted her to stay like this forever—small and warm and entirely mine to coddle.
He had honed in on my weakness.
But my time would come.
It always did.