Chapter 53
Aurelia
My body is in agony.
Not the bad kind—not pain, exactly. Every nerve is wound so tight it feels scorched.
Yes, I just had the best sleep I’ve had since being taken from my home, and yes, this bed is amazing—soft, warm, swallowing me whole—but it doesn’t matter. In the last two weeks, I’ve been close, so close, to finding any kind of sensual release, and each time it’s been ripped away from me.
My eyes search the room, but I don’t see anything.
Okay. I’ll be quick.
My hand drifts down my body, the sheets sliding with it, brushing over my stomach. I find the band on the boxer briefs—no, the shorts, I’m calling them shorts for the sake of my mental stability—and pause, feeling the elastic press against my fingertips before I hook them beneath it.
The morning light pours over my skin in warm stripes, and for the first time, I let my body soften into the mattress.
If he’s gone—and he should be gone—then I can have one moment to myself.
I slide my hand lower, my fingers trembling with relief as they reach my clit. The first touch pulls a quiet, involuntary breath from my lips. I circle again, and again, the pressure spreading like a slow, melting warmth through my limbs—
And then, because the universe hates me, a door opens.
Nikolai walks out of the bathroom.
My entire body jerks. My hand flies out of my shorts, and I shoot upright, eyes wide, pulse slamming against my throat so hard it hurts.
“What are you doing?” he asks, like he didn’t just walk in on me mid-orgasm attempt.
“Just waking up,” I lie.
He smiles a knowing, infuriating smile, and sits down beside me on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, heat radiating from his body.
“I could take care of that for you,” he says softly. “You just gotta ask.”
I give him the sweetest fake smile I can muster. “I’d rather die horny than ask for that.”
He laughs, pushing off the bed and grabbing a shirt from his closet, then throwing it at me. “Here’s a new shirt. I’m sure that one smells like me.”
It does, but the scent strangely brought me comfort, and I never thought to change it.
“I’m staying with you today, so what would you like to do?”
I look at him in awe as I replace his shirt, continuing to act like he doesn’t have an effect on me.
“I have movies. I know you like them. Gilda is a classic I’m sure you’d enjoy, so I can put that on while we wait for breakfast to be delivered.”
Maybe I should stab him now.
How does he know my favourite movie?
“You’re psychotic. We aren’t hanging out, so why don’t you just tell me what you want from me, torture me, and do whatever else so it can be over?”
“I would never hurt you. And believe it or not, I’m actually trying to better myself for you.”
I laugh because that’s hilarious, but then he throws his wrist in my face.
I stare, clearly confused, trying to make sense of the tight black rubber band wrapped around his skin.
He snaps it sharply, the sting echoing in the quiet room.
I blink with utter bewilderment on my face. “What are you doing?”
“Ivan suggested I use this to control my anger with you. I will sting my arm so I won’t yell and will be able to give you some of the control I know you want.”
I tuck my lips between my teeth, barely containing my laughter, but he’s being so serious I’m trying to follow his thought process here.
Because are you telling me the same man who keeps shooting people now fights his temper with… a friendship bracelet?
“Okay… and you think that’ll change something.”
“It works,” he insists, snapping it again. “See? Calm.”
He looks the opposite of calm. He looks like a pissed-off cat who touched a bathtub.
“I want you to want me, Aurelia. You trusted me once. Why can’t you do it again?”
“You know I wouldn’t have if I knew who you were.”
“You know, Aurelia, I don’t even think you believe that.” He comes closer to me on the bed, his body overpowering mine in every way. “I think you wanted the danger, the freedom, the lack of certainty. And I think you like it now.”
I take in a breath; his closeness is too much for me. “No.”
His lips hover over mine. “You love that for once you are with someone who matches your rank, your strength, your passion, your control, and your desire to be free.”
“No,” I whisper.
“Elijah, even in the moments he cared for you, couldn’t make your heart beat this fast.” His hand lands on my chest. “If you let me, I could show you both the power of control and submission.”
“Nikolai…” I breathe, feigning admiration. “You might be as good a fuck as you think you are, and everything you’re saying might be true. But I will never love you, I will never care about you. Where your hand is”—I bring mine over top, hovering over my heart—“you will never have it.”
He leans back, frustrated.
“Sit and watch the movie, Aurelia.”
He moves to sit behind me, annoyed and just as bossy as usual.
Then snap.
The rubber band cracks against his wrist again. A sharp, clean sting that cuts through the room. He does it almost violently, like he’s punishing himself for reacting to me, for wanting me, for losing control even a little.
Another snap.
He’s trying so hard, and it’s… ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that heat swells behind my ribs, rising in my throat in a laugh I can’t let him see.
I press my lips together. Hard.
The smile still tries to force its way up, tugging uncontrollably at the corner of my mouth.
God. No. Absolutely not.
I turn my head quickly, shoulders curling forward as I bring a hand up to cover my face, pretending to adjust my hair.
Because if he sees the grin threatening to break loose, he’ll know.
He’ll know he got to me.
He’ll know I find this entire rubber-band-therapy thing stupidly endearing in a way I’m not allowed to feel.
Behind me, another soft snap fills the silence, and it takes everything in me not to laugh into my palm like a lunatic.