Octavia
“Psycho,” I start, glancing around the vast, empty space. “Why is the Louvre empty on a random day in March?”
“I had it closed to the public for the day.”
“How?” I ask, sceptical.
He smirks. “Money.”
I arch a brow, and his smirk deepens. “And a little persuasion,” he adds. “I tried to buy the damn thing, but apparently even with an outrageous amount of money and a few death threats, it’s not that simple. Something about it not being for sale because it belongs to the country.”
I roll my eyes, but I smile as I wander into yet another room.
We are in Paris.
My sister just got engaged. Arlo chose this place to propose, because it meant something to them, and my job was to get her here without her suspecting a thing.
What I didn’t expect was for the psycho to appear out of nowhere and insist that we spend a few days in Paris as well.
Classes are still running at the academy, but we both know he is wasting his time, and as for me, no one really cares as long as I pass my exams.
The past few weeks, from New Year’s until now, have been nothing short of complicated and amazing which I hate and love at the same damn time.
We act like a damn couple, and it no longer feels like just sex.
Not that it ever really did, but at least before I fought it harder. Now I don’t even bother pretending.
What matters more is that the guilt, the self-hatred, and the nightmares don’t come the way they used to, because he is everywhere. In my classes, in my dorm, in my bed, in my space, and somehow the noise in my head quiets because of it.
I have been spending more time with my sister, which I am grateful for now, especially since she and Arlo plan not to return to the academy and only come back in May to sit their exams. So I will not see her as much.
Arlo is technically doing some sort of master’s degree, though I doubt he needs it. I know well that he was never really at the academy for studying, he was there for my sister.
A hand suddenly grips the back of my neck, and I am pulled into his chest without warning. He bends down close to my ear.
“Stop,” he whispers.
It should frighten me how well he knows me.
After a few more hours wandering through the galleries, surrounded by amazing art, I finally huff.
“I could eat an entire pizza,” I say. “Oh, and those pizza dough balls with Nutella on the side for dipping, plus a lemonade with the food and an espresso with dessert. Maybe even a gelato.”
His eyes narrow, darkening as he looks at me. “You’re fucking hungry.”
He takes my hand and starts walking without waiting for a response.
By the time we finish eating, my stomach is so full it actually hurts. I press a hand to it.
“I think I might burst,” I mutter. “I’m not even joking.”
Without a word, he pulls out his phone.
“What are you doing?” I ask, already suspicious.
He lifts it to his ear. “Can a stomach rupture from overeating?” he asks immediately, without so much as a greeting.
I stare at him in disbelief as he listens for a few seconds, nodding once.
“Oh,” he says. “I see.”
I lunge for the phone and snatch it from his hand. “I’m so sorry,” I tell the poor person on the other end, then hang up and turn back to him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you actually fucking insane?”
He looks between me and the phone, genuinely confused.
“You are hurt,” he says finally.
“Oh my God,” I reply, exasperated. “I’m saying my stomach feels like it might burst. It’s not actually going to.”
“But how can you be sure?” he presses. “If you feel it, it could happen.”
“Stop,” I say, cutting him off.
He studies me again. “Are you in pain?” he asks, already reaching for his wallet and tossing a few bills onto the table as he stands. “I think it would be better if a doctor checked you, just to be sure.”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the smile that creeps in anyway. “I’m fine. Let’s just walk back to the penthouse. It will help.”
He watches me for a long beat, still assessing, before finally nodding. “Alright.”
As we walk back towards the penthouse, the silence stretches between us until he breaks it.
“Let me tattoo you.”
I arch a brow. “No. I already have my artist—”
I don’t get to finish.
“Name.” The word comes out rough.
“You’re not going to kill him.”
His mouth curves. “So it’s a him. Definitely will.”
“I know you actually might,” I snap. “That’s exactly why you’ll never get his name.”
He stops walking and lifts my chin, bringing my eyes to his.
“Make sure it stays that way,” he says. “Because I will kill every man who has touched you. So make sure no one ever does again.”
“You,” I say, poking his chest. “Are.” Another poke. “Ridiculous.”
He only takes my hand, brings it to his mouth, and presses a kiss to my knuckles before we start walking again.
Once we’re inside, we make our way to the bedroom, and he disappears without a word. When he returns, he is carrying a compact kit that I assume contains everything he needs for the tattoo.
“I never agreed to this,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
His eyes drop there immediately.
“Lie down,” he says, gesturing towards the bed. After a brief pause he adds, “But first, take off your clothes. I want you bare.”
I smirk as I start peeling my clothes away, slowly. His art is on an entirely different level, and despite myself, I trust him.
My underwear is the last thing I slip off. I take my time with it before straightening and meeting his gaze.
He devours me with his eyes.
“Lie on your stomach,” he grunts.
I do.
I feel him setting everything he needs on the bed around me and on the bedside table while I keep my eyes closed, finally relaxing after an entire day spent walking the city. I shift restlessly, playing with my legs, lifting and crossing them.
“Why you needed me fully naked for a back tattoo, I’ll never know,” I tease him.
The mattress dips as he sits behind me. I feel his body heat first, then his teeth sink into my arse cheek, biting hard, and I feel wetness pulsing between my thighs.
The machine starts humming, and my body goes still. The sound lulls me toward sleep, and with the number of tattoos already covering my back, this is familiar territory by now. Pain is not something I shy away from, so it doesn’t take long before my eyes finally close.
When I wake again, Markev is gathering his things.
“I want to see,” I say, my voice thick with sleep.
He smiles darkly and lifts a mirror.
I stare at it, my mouth falling open, my jaw might as well have hit the bed.
The art is unreal.
Otherworldly.
It flows seamlessly into the pieces I already have, as if it was always meant to be there.
And I don’t know how to feel about that.
Because it is a phoenix.
Rising from the ashes.
But it is the detail that stops me, the beauty of it.
The phoenix wears a crown.
And that… is not me.
Because I am broken.
Killed.
But I will not rise, I will stay dead.
Nothing can bring me back.
I am pulled out of the spiral by a sensation at my finger. My eyes drop, and my mouth falls open all over again.
“You did not,” I snap.
I grab the first thing within reach on the bedside table, a lamp, and hurl it at his head. It doesn’t hit him. The cord snaps it short, sending it crashing to the floor at his feet instead, still plugged in.
I might actually kill this man.
“You did not tattoo your name on my fucking ring finger,” I yell.
He only smirks, pleased with himself, his arms crossed as he leans back against the wall.
Shirtless.
A pair of grey trousers hanging low on his hips.
Those abs…
Fuck.
I need to get a grip, because this fucker just tattooed his name on my finger.
“It was inevitable,” he says calmly. “Bound to happen.”
I rise on the bed and jump for him.
He catches me easily, my legs wrap around his middle. It is ridiculous, really, considering I am completely naked. I try to hit him, but he stops me by taking my mouth in a kiss.
“Stop this,” he murmurs against my lips. “You can resume your attempts at killing me later. Right now, I need to fuck you.”
I melt into the kiss despite myself, because with him I am apparently insatiable.
He throws me back onto the bed and, in the next instant, strips off his trousers. His cock springs free, and he is on top of me immediately, kissing me again as I moan into his mouth when he thrusts into me.
He fucks me like he has lost his mind, and I love every second of it, right up until we come together, completely spent.