Chapter 20
Possession Games
—Kira—
Ihadn’t brought a knife to bed in over two weeks.
That was saying something.
For the first time since Felix moved in, I didn’t fall asleep clutching something sharp under my pillow. I didn’t lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d hear footsteps outside my door. I didn’t tense at every sound, every creak in the walls.
Because Maksym came. Every night. My beautiful, terrifying Reaper.
He climbed into bed like he belonged there—cigarette smoke still clinging to his hair, heat radiating off his skin.
He pulled me close, pressed his mouth to my neck, and held me like he’d been missing me all day.
I didn’t have to ask. He just came. And somehow, with him beside me, I slept like I hadn’t in years.
But safety didn’t mean silence.
Felix came to my room a few more times.
He had perfect timing. Always when Maksym and I were mid-fuck, tangled in sheets and heat. Felix would rattle the doorknob, bang a few times, then pause—long enough to let his voice slither through the crack.
“I brought milk for my little girl,” he said, like we were playing some sick fantasy. Another time: “Still touching yourself, sweetheart? That’s for your husband, not your fingers.”
It made my skin itch like poison.
Maksym didn’t answer. He just buried himself deeper inside me, one hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the sounds spilling out, his chest pressed hard to my back.
His breath hit my ear. “I’m going to peel him apart, piece by piece, while he begs for death—and I’ll fucking enjoy every second while I do it.
” I clenched, crying out behind his hand, pussy pulsing like his threat had set something dark and unholy off inside me.
I’d never come to violence before. But Maksym made even that feel good.
Everything—sex, sleep, even fucking silence—was better with him in it.
I’d wake up sometimes before him, just lying there, staring at the man no one dared touch, the man who ripped people apart without blinking—and yet he held me as if I were something fragile.
He looked softer in sleep. The brutal edges of him blunted by dreams. Even in sleep, I could still feel the force he carried—like a weapon laid down, but never disarmed. I traced the lines of his chest with my eyes, memorizing him. Revering him.
And the tattoos. I couldn’t get over his tattoos.
Some of them looked newer, black ink clean and precise, probably done in proper tattoo shops.
But others were old, fading, clearly done with crude tools and a heavy hand.
The symbols, the patterns—they spoke of survival, of ranks, of blood. Of stories I didn’t know yet.
But I loved every line.
He was beautiful in that brutal, impossible way. And he was mine.
I knew it the second our eyes met. Not in some cute, romantic way. In the kind of way that made me feel savage. Possessive. I didn’t want to be loved by him. I wanted to be owned. And I wanted to own him right back.
University felt like another planet. One where none of this existed. No armed guards, no controlling father, no sleazy fiancé.
Just me, stupid lectures, and Valeria.
She plopped down beside me on the campus bench, oversized sunglasses hiding half her face and a half-eaten muffin in her hand.
“I didn’t go home last night,” she said casually, biting into the muffin.
I raised a brow. “Do I want to know?”
“He was big. Like, scary big,” she said, stretching her hands apart like she was measuring a damn anaconda. “And dumb. No IQ. But who needs smart when you’ve got a dick like a third arm?”
I nearly spat my coffee. “You need help.”
She leaned in, eyes glinting. “Anyway. Forget me. How’s our neighborhood hitman doing?”
My cheeks flared.
She pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead, gasping. “Oh my god. You’re blushing. He rearranged your guts, didn’t he?”
“Jesus, Lera—”
“Oh my god, don’t even try to lie. Did he rail you into the mattress? Pull your hair? Tell me he growled. I want details, slut.”
“It’s not even sex at this point,” I said, voice low, like I still couldn’t believe it myself.
“It’s resurrection. Like he’s splitting me open just to put me back together again.
” I shifted slightly, rubbing the side of my neck.
“Every time, my body gives out, my brain blanks out... and just when I think I’ve hit my limit, he wrecks me even harder. ”
Valeria’s eyes bulged. “Wait—wait. Every time like every damn time? Babe, how long has your pussy been getting holy water treatment and you kept this from me?”
“Three weeks. Every day. I was bleeding last week, so I sucked him off.”
“You didn’t give him your ass?” she said, raising an eyebrow and giving me a look like I’d seriously disappointed her. Then she smirked. “Selfish. Next time just give me a call. I’d gladly take one for the team.” She lit her cigarette with a shrug, like it was the most natural offer in the world.
“A—you’re the filthiest bitch I know,” I said, dry and unamused. “B—I will actually kill you if you go near him.” I finally looked at her, my voice steady. “I’m not joking.”
She didn’t bother replying, only rolled her eyes.
That was when Ruslan dropped into the seat beside us, his expression sour like he’d just chewed on a lemon.
“My father told me you’re engaged,” he said flatly.
I didn’t even blink. “I am. Technically.”
Ruslan stared at me. “Technically?”
“I’m not marrying him.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Kill myself, maybe. Seems faster than living with that freak.”
Ruslan looked slightly more cheerful. “Maybe I’ll ask for your hand instead. Think your father would approve?”
“Are you out of your mind?” I gave him a look. “I’m not marrying you either.”
“Oh, come on,” he smirked. “I’d be a delight.”
“I really, really doubt that,” I said. Ruslan chuckled. Even Valeria cracked a grin.
We were still sitting there, laughing and sipping coffee, when the sleek black car pulled up at the edge of the campus.
Fuck. My stomach dropped. What the hell was Felix doing here? I’d managed to dodge him for weeks—sneaking into my room early, locking the door while he talked business with my father. I guess today he decided to come get me. And I was already bracing for whatever twisted thing he had planned.
He stepped out like he owned the place, flanked by a driver and a bodyguard in full mafia fashion, eyes scanning for me like a predator in search of its prey.
He didn’t waste time. Marched straight toward us.
“School’s over. You’re coming with me,” he said, voice flat.
I blinked. “What? I still have one more class.”
“I don’t care. Get up.”
I glanced at Valeria and Ruslan, both of whom looked caught between awkwardness and alarm. Valeria even opened her mouth like she might protest, but I stood before she could say a word. I wasn’t going to make a scene in front of them or worse—put them in danger.
I walked beside him, jaw tight. “You can’t just come to my school and drag me out like that. I’m not your property.”
“Yet,” he said, smug. Then, “Get in the car.”
I did, mostly to avoid creating a spectacle.
The moment the door shut, he turned to me, eyes gleaming. “For over two weeks, you’ve been playing this little game. Lock the door. Stay quiet. But you’re not as silent as you think, sweetheart.”
I stared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leaned right in, eyes dark. “I heard you, you naughty fucking girl. Fingering yourself quiet, but not quiet enough—those little gasps gave you away.”
My skin prickled. “Even if I were, it’s none of your business.”
“I’m your future husband,” he said, smiling like it meant something sacred. “Of course it’s my business. Any sound you make should be for me.”
I swallowed hard, gripping my bag.
“I missed you,” he said, voice calm and even. “Figured I’d come grab you myself.” He rested his arm along the backseat, gaze fixed on me, unblinking. “We’ve got things to do. Together.”
“What kind of things?”
“Patience,” he said lightly, the smirk on his face suggesting he had the upper hand.
We arrived at the house not long after. He walked me to my bedroom, opened the door, and gestured to the bed. A box sat neatly in the center, wrapped in white ribbon.
I stared at it, dread blooming in my chest.
“Come on,” he said smoothly. “Open it.”
I didn’t want to. I didn’t care what was inside. As long as it came from him, it already felt poisoned. But I still walked toward it, still untied the ribbon with trembling fingers.
Inside was a deep emerald dress.
“Put it on,” he said, nodding toward the dress. “We’re going out. I want to show you off a little.”
My stomach dropped. “I’m not some trophy you get to parade around.”
He crossed the room in two long steps and grabbed my face, fingers digging into my jaw hard enough to hurt. His eyes were bright, unhinged.
“Spoiled little bitch,” he growled, his grip tightening. “You think you get a choice? Now get changed, or I’ll dress you myself.”
I swallowed down the rising panic, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “Okay. I’ll get ready. Just… leave the room.”
He laughed—short and ugly. “In front of me is fine. There’s nothing there I won’t own soon.”
I looked at him and knew better than to argue. He was already angry, already past listening.
My hands shook as I started to undress. First the skirt. Then the blouse. My clothes folded over the edge of the bed, piece by piece, while my heart thudded painfully in my chest. I sat down, tugging gently at the top of my stocking, trying to stay calm.
“Let me take care of that,” he said suddenly.
Before I could move, he was already kneeling, his fingers grazing my legs.
My whole body tensed. His knuckles brushed the inside of my thigh and I wanted to scream. My throat clenched shut around the sound.