Chapter 9 Shame Never Felt So Good
Shame Never Felt So Good
—Kira—
Ipushed myself to my feet, my limbs trembling and my throat raw. The cuffs had left angry red marks on my wrists. I rubbed at them absently, not sure whether the sting in my skin or the heat between my legs burned more.
He didn’t look at me again.
I left his room and entered the guest room. Valeria lay curled under the sheet, her breathing shallow but steady. I leaned over her, heart still pounding, and touched her shoulder. “Lera?” I whispered. “You okay?”
No response.
Her lips were dry. Her skin clammy. But she was breathing. Alive.
I dropped down next to her, my heart thundering. The taste of Maksym was still thick in my mouth. I wiped my lips. Shame crawled up my spine.
I’d gotten what I wanted. I’d fantasized about it. Dreamed of it. Of him.
But I hadn’t imagined it like that—choking on him, wrists bruised, slapped into submission, mouth fucked like some cheap whore.
I didn’t think I’d ever beg to be touched, to be used like a thing instead of a person.
And yet… the orgasm ripped through me like nothing else ever had.
It eclipsed every quiet, lonely night I’d spent with my own fingers.
And now, long after, my body still pulsed with the aftershock.
I should’ve been ashamed. I should’ve hated it.
But some traitorous part of me had made peace with it. And that terrified me.
And then there was her.
Mila.
Why did her name make him snap like that?
Why did he care so much?
My stomach twisted. I didn’t even know her and I fucking hated her. She was a ghost I couldn’t compete with. A shadow I didn’t understand.
He was mine. And yet, in his head, he still belonged to someone else.
Sleep stole me with his name on my lips, my body humming with the memory of him. Morning came like punishment—sharp, unwelcome, and far too fast.
Valeria stirred beside me, groaning as she sat up and blinked into the low light filtering through the curtains.
“Ugh… Where the fuck…?” she mumbled, holding her head with both hands like it might fall apart.
She looked around the room, then down at herself. “Did we… did we go home with someone? Why the hell does my mouth taste like cat piss?”
She swung her legs off the bed and then suddenly bolted upright, one hand clamped over her mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.”
I followed her to the bathroom door, watching as she dropped to her knees and puked into the toilet. The retching sounds turned my stomach so hard I nearly joined her. After a minute, she flushed, rinsed her mouth, and staggered back toward the hallway.
She paused.
Maksym’s door was slightly open. She peered inside and saw him lying on his stomach across the mattress, shirtless, his back a broad canvas of dark tattoos.
One arm was tucked under the pillow, the other stretched loosely along the sheet.
His hair was a mess, crushed on one side from sleep, and the muscles of his back shifted faintly with each slow breath.
The sight of him like that—made something stir in her expression.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, looking into the room like it held answers. “Please tell me I didn’t screw him. Because I have no memory of anything, and if I fucked that hot bastard and can’t remember it—that’s the cruelest joke the universe has ever played on me.”
Only Valeria could be this thirsty while still half-poisoned. My insides twisted. “No,” I said, voice cold as glass.
She turned to me, blinking.
“No,” I repeated. “This is his place.”
“Wait… this is him?“ she asked. “The Reaper guy you told me about?”
I nodded. “He found us. Got us out. You don’t remember any of it?”
She rubbed her temples. “It’s all… foggy.”
I swallowed hard. “You were drugged. And they were going to—” I stopped, breath hitching. “It was almost really fucking bad.”
Her expression changed—shame, fear, then disbelief.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
She leaned against the wall, processing. “So, he just… brought us here? And didn’t…?”
“He didn’t touch you,” I said. “Not like that.”
She frowned at me, studying my face too closely. She knew me too well.
“Not like that?” she repeated. “Kira… did he touch you?”
I hesitated.
Her eyes widened. She leaned closer, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “Oh my God, Kira. Did you—did you lose your virginity?”
“Yes and no,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
She blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”
I scrubbed a hand down my face, exhausted. “I’ll tell you later. Just not now.”
She nodded, even though curiosity burned in her eyes.
Then something shifted in her expression. She looked down at herself. The wrinkled dress from last night. Her stockings ripped to shreds, and a dark bruise blooming on her thigh.
Her breath hitched.
“Wait,” she whispered. “I remember...”
She suddenly covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes widening as something clicked in her memory. “The club owner. He came to me with something new—I didn’t even think twice. I thought it would just be a buzz, a high—not this. Not something that would knock me out.”
She swallowed hard.
“I remember voices. Hands. Someone dragging me.”
My chest tightened.
“And then—” she flinched, eyes darting to the hallway. “Gunshots. I heard gunshots.”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “That was him.”
She looked at me, horror dawning as the fragments clicked together. “They did this to me?” She gestured at her clothes, her body. “The stockings… the bruises…?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Lera.”
She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, shaking. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God, Kira…”
I crouched in front of her, my hands firm on her knees. “It’s over. He killed them. The rest won’t dare come near us.”
Valeria looked at me, worry written all over her face. “You watched it all happen—are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “I’m fine.” The lie came easier than it should have. “I’ve survived worse.”
She blinked, still trying to process everything, then let out a breath. “Fuck. You weren’t kidding about him being a psycho killer.”
“No,” I said softly. “I wasn’t. But he saved our lives.”
“Next time you want to whisper about me, try not doing it outside my door,” Maksym called out, voice rough from sleep.
We both flinched.
He appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his presence magnetic and quietly dangerous. He paused there for a moment, studying us with that unreadable expression of his. Then, without saying a word, he turned and disappeared back into his room. A second later I heard a cabinet door open.
When he returned, he had two pairs of sweatpants in his hand—one gray, one black—which he tossed toward us in a careless, dismissive motion.
“Put these on,” he said. “This psycho is driving you home.”
Valeria blinked. I blinked harder, heart stuttering in my chest.
Lera was still gawking at him, slack-jawed and stunned.
He raised a brow, eyes flicking between us. “Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
Somehow, even with the bruises, the wreckage, and the aftermath hanging heavy in the air, I felt a thread of something strange curl in my stomach.
Maksym was many things. Terrifying. Violent. Beautiful.
And thinking about what he did to me last night—I suddenly couldn’t breathe right. Shame licked at my cheeks, made it impossible to meet his eyes. But at the same time, I couldn’t stop looking at him.
He moved without emotion, untouched by anything happening around him. And yet I’d felt him tremble when I sucked him in. I’d made him lose control. That meant something. Right?
God, I was pathetic. A mess. I’d given him power over me, and now I was chasing the high like an addict.
Still… he looked too good in that morning light.
And part of me wanted him to drag me back to that bedroom and ruin me all over again.
We went back into the guest bedroom and changed quickly.
The sweatpants were huge, obviously. Thankfully, they had drawstrings we could tie up, though even then they sagged low on our hips.
Valeria looked especially ridiculous with her mini dress still on over them, but it wasn’t like we had options.
We had to go back to hers—my father’s men were scheduled to pick me up, and if I wasn’t there, I’d be in deep shit. The kind of trouble that echoed louder than any hangover or bruised pride.
I was still wearing Maksym’s oversized t-shirt. It hung low over the borrowed sweatpants, practically swallowing me. In the mirror, I caught sight of faint stains—cum, maybe spit—smeared across the fabric.
Ugh. Was I walking around like this?
I grimaced, turned the shirt inside out, and tugged it back on. Still better than walking around with evidence of last night written all over me.
The ride was silent. Valeria leaned her head against the window, pale and clammy, looking like she was fighting nausea the entire time. Her pupils were still a little blown, her hands twitchy. Withdrawal. After everything she took, this was expected.
Maksym didn’t say a word. Neither did I.
When we pulled up in front of Valeria’s apartment, he stepped out first, walked around, and opened the passenger door like a chauffeur.
Valeria mumbled a quiet thank you and stumbled toward the building, heels clicking awkwardly beneath the baggy sweats.
Mine did the same as I followed her up the stairs, trailing just behind as she unlocked the door to her apartment and disappeared inside.
I was just about to step into the apartment when his voice rang out behind me.
“I think you forgot something,” Maksym said, tone unreadable.
I turned halfway, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re wearing something that belongs to me.”
I looked down at the baggy shirt and sweatpants. “Seriously? You want your clothes back? Now?”
He nodded once.
I scoffed. “You’re joking. You want me to strip here? In the hallway?”
I stared at him, my pulse starting to race. It had nothing to do with the clothes. It was the way he looked at me, like this was just another one of his games and humiliating me was the point.
He crossed his arms, leaned against the wall. “Tick-tock, Malaya.”
My throat tightened. I hated how much I wanted to defy him—and how much more I wanted to obey. Just to prove I could do it without flinching.
I slipped off my heels first, letting them drop to the floor. I bit my lip and tugged the shirt over my head. My skin prickled with cold air. My nipples peaked. Then I shoved down the sweatpants. No panties. Just skin.
I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “Enjoy the view, asshole.”
He did. Silently. Thoroughly. An infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his eyes traveled down my body—slow, searing—before lifting back up again.
I grabbed the clothes and hurled them straight at his chest before he could say a word. Then I slammed the door in his face.
“Fucking lunatic,” I muttered, leaning my forehead against the door. “Arrogant... smug... ridiculously gorgeous idiot.”
Valeria emerged from the living room just in time to see me standing naked by the door.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Why are you naked?”
I groaned, covering my chest with my arms and stomping toward her. “Don’t ask. Just give me some clothes.”
Valeria shook her head, then disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later with some cozy clothes—ones that actually fit me.
I took them from her and pulled them on while she dropped onto the couch like her bones had given up on holding her together. Her head fell back against the cushions.
“God,” she muttered, voice rough. “I feel like shit.”
I glanced at her, taking in the pallor, the glassy eyes, the way her hands trembled slightly. “Let me make you something. Food, tea—”
“Wait.”
Her voice stopped me.
“Just… sit with me.”
I hesitated for a second, then moved toward her and sat down.
She just moved—slowly, like it took effort—and curled into me, pressing her face into my chest, arms wrapping around me like she needed to anchor herself. Her head tucked under my chin, fitting there too easily.
My arms came around her without thinking.
I could feel how tense she was, how something inside her was barely holding together.
So I didn’t speak.
We just sat there in silence.
“You know what’s funny?” she murmured after a while.
I hummed softly.
“They didn’t need to drug me,” she said with a hollow laugh. “I probably would’ve let them fuck me anyway.”
My grip tightened around her.
What the hell is she saying?
“You don’t mean that,” I said quietly.
“This is just a body, Kira,” she said, almost absently. “A useless, pathetic shell.”
Something in my chest twisted painfully.
I pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
She didn’t react—just stayed there, heavy in my arms, and I knew.
She was broken too. Maybe that was why we had clicked so fast. She never talked about it, never tried to explain, but it lived in the spaces between her words, in the way she said things like that, as if she were already a step removed from herself.
Carefully, I shifted, tilting her face up just enough to look at her.
“Lera… you want to talk?”
Her eyes met mine—vulnerable for a split second before something shut behind them again.
She shook her head slightly.
A pause.
Then, with a faint attempt at something lighter:
“Do you want to tell me how you somehow lost and didn’t lose your virginity all in one night? I could really use the distraction.”
I exhaled.
“Fine.”
I leaned back slightly, still holding her.
“It started with my mouth,” I said dryly. “I should’ve kept it shut.”