15. Dave
15
Dave
T he morning light filters through the half-drawn curtains, painting streaks of gold across the bed. The quiet outside makes for a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. I’m awake before the sun fully rises, lying next to Alexia, watching her sleep. For the first time in a long while, I am at peace. But it’s as fragile as a glass poised on the edge of a table—one wrong move and everything shatters.
Despite her soft and rhythmic breathing, there’s an unease to her slumber. I bet that even in her dreams, the monster chases after her.
Igor .
The name alone ignites a deadly fury in me, a fire that scorches my whole being. I glance down at Alexia, at the faint lines of her scars, and my fist clenches over the sheets.
Those marks are the consequences of that motherfucker’s cruelty. My heart skips a beat. These welts, carved into her soul, are also a reminder of my shortcomings.
I wasn’t there when she needed me most.
As I lie here, my mind drifts back to the past, to when we were young and stupid, thinking we could take on the world. I remember her laugh, the way it used to light up everything around her. We were so fucking naive. But also, we were so fucking in love, convinced that nothing could touch us. Then life pulled the rug from under us. Her marrying Igor shattered everything. It tore me apart in ways I never thought possible, and for years, I buried that pain, let it harden me into the man I am now.
Cold.
Ruthless.
Untouchable.
Yet she’s the only one who touches me, even now. Just being near her stirs up feelings I thought I’d buried for good. And it scares the hell out of me, because I’ve learned the hard way what happens when you let your guard down. All you get in return is betrayal, heartbreak, and loss. I’ve lived through it all.
A tightness squeezes my chest as I brush a stray lock of golden hair away from her face. She stirs but doesn’t wake. God, she’s still beautiful after all these years, but there’s something different about her now. The girl I fell in love with is still there, buried under layers of pain, fear, and survival. I see it every time I look at Alexia, and it fucking kills me.
A part of me wants to believe that I can fix this. That I can heal her. I want to be the man who erases the horrors she’s endured, who brings back the laughter I remember, the light in her eyes that Igor extinguished.
But I’m no fool. The damage runs deep.
And I’m not sure I can pull her from the darkness she’s been living in when my own soul turned black a long time ago. No light survives in the underworld I grew up in. I might not be the savior she needs.
But damn if I won’t try to become that.
I glance at the delicate rise and fall of her chest, and despite everything, I want her. Not just in my bed but in my life. I want a future with her. It’s crazy, fucked up even, but I do. That scares me more than anything else—wanting her means I’m vulnerable again. Not only to heartbreak if she doesn’t want me back. Caring for Alexia and Rose makes me vulnerable to my enemies. It’s the same as putting a target on their backs. In my world, enemies will attack you where it hurts more. Wanting Alexia back in my life means I’m risking everything—my heart, my sanity, my fucking life—for the chance to be with her.
I’m not sure I can survive losing her again.
But I am sure I will try to win her back, whatever it takes.
I take a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside. It’s too early for this shit. With all that’s still left unsaid between us, with the high stakes we’re facing, there’s no room for romance. Igor is coming for Alexia. For Rose.
I glance around the room, at the shadows and the sunlight playing on the floor. This house, this fortress, was meant to keep them safe. I’ve built a network around Alexia and her daughter—Fran, Nadya, my men—but now, seeing Alexia here, so fragile, I realize it’s not enough. I’ve provided physical safety, but her scars go deeper than flesh. I will find a way to break through the walls she’s built around herself. I want her to know that she can trust me, lean on me. I will make her mine again.
I run a hand over my face. I’ve got this perfect plan for keeping her safe. But her emotions? That’s a battlefield I don’t know how to navigate.
Alexia stirs, her body shifting under the sheets as she curls closer. She nuzzles her face against my chest, and for a second, it’s like nothing has changed and we’re back in that time when life was simple. But there’s a chasm between us now, filled with scars, lies, and shit we still haven’t figured out.
I tighten my arm around her shoulders, the warmth of her skin against mine pulling me out of my thoughts. She’s so fucking soft. She sighs, that little exhale that tells me she’s finally waking up. Her lashes flutter, and I watch her hazel eyes blink against the morning light. For a moment, she doesn’t move, wrapped in the quiet cage of my arms.
God, I want to keep her like this forever.
Mine!
She turns to face me, and her eyes find mine. There’s a softness in them, but also something else. We stare at each other, ignoring the rest of the world. An invisible thread pulls us tight, draws us closer. And yet, there’s distance, too. The weight of everything hangs between us, keeping us apart.
“Morning,” I murmur, my voice low and rough.
“Morning,” she whispers back, almost shy. Her lips curve into a tentative smile.
There’s a hesitation in her that wasn’t there last night.
I brush my fingers along her arm, feeling the goosebumps that rise under my touch. “You sleep okay?”
She nods. “Yeah… I think so.”
I can tell she’s lying. She didn’t sleep easy. Her body is too tense, too coiled, even now. It’s like she’s waiting for something to go wrong. Like she’s bracing for the next blow, the next nightmare. And I fucking hate that. I hate that Igor did this to her, that he’s still got his claws in her head, twisting her up even when she’s not with him.
I take a breath, forcing myself to keep my voice steady, “You don’t have to worry, you know. You’re safe here. I’ve made sure of it.”
She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine. “I know,” she says quietly, but there’s a flicker of doubt in her gaze.
I get it. She’s been through hell. The scars on her body are only the surface. Her real wounds run deeper, where I can’t reach. I grit my teeth, biting back the anger. Now’s not the time for that. Not when she’s here, in my bed, in my arms. I need to be steady for her, calm, even though all I want to do is hunt Igor down and make him fucking pay for what he’s done.
Instead, I pull her closer, my hand sliding down her back, feeling the ridges under my palm. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore, Alexia. Whatever comes next… I’ll handle it.”
Her body stiffens for a heartbeat before she relaxes against me again. “I don’t know what comes next.”
That gets to me. She’s still lost, unsure. I could tell her that I want her here, that I want to keep her, protect her, take care of her. But I don’t. Not yet. I hold back, because saying it out loud feels too risky, too soon.
“What do you want, Alexia?” I ask, my voice softer now, careful.
She hesitates, her brow furrowing as she looks away, staring at some point on the ceiling like she’s searching for an answer she doesn’t have. “I just want to be free,” she says after a long pause. “Free from Igor, free from… everything.”
Her words twist something inside me, but she’s not talking about us. Not yet. She’s talking about survival. She’s got a long way to go before she can think about anything else.
But it still stings, because there’s a wall between us, and I don’t know how to tear it down.
“I’ll make sure you get that freedom,” I say, keeping my voice firm, determined. “Whatever it takes.”
She smiles, but it’s small, distant, and I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Not fully. There’s too much fear in her eyes. And maybe it’s because she doesn’t trust me. Or maybe it’s something deeper. Something she’s not telling me.
I don’t press her. But I feel the tension building between us, a storm waiting to break. When I figure out what it is that she’s hiding, I’ll make damn sure she knows that I’m not letting her go.
“We should get up,” I say softly, breaking the quiet but not the intimacy between us.
She looks up, nodding as she sits up, the sheets slipping from her bare shoulders. My eyes follow the lines of her body and my blood zings through my veins down to my cock.
I slide out of bed and extend a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s take a shower.”
Her fingers slip into mine, and I lead her toward the en suite bathroom. Large windows filter in natural light, casting a soft glow over the pristine marble floors and the sunken tub in the center. But I ignore all that, focusing instead on the massive glass-walled shower in the corner. When I turn the water on, it cascades over the dark tile like a warm invitation.
I set the temperature to hot, letting the steam thicken the air around us. Alexia stands a few feet away, and the sight of her naked, scarred, and still so damn beautiful, strikes me hard.
We step into the shower together, the warm water rushing over us. I reach for the soap, lathering it in my hands before moving them over her body, slow and deliberate.
With her back to me, she splays her hands on the tiles as I trace the white lines of her scars with my fingertips. I bend and scatter kisses along the marks. Her body relaxes under my touch. I wash her thoroughly, my hands gliding over her skin. There’s something intimate in the simplicity of it. It’s not just about the physical. It’s about showing her that I care.
“Dave...” she rasps.
I pause with my hands on her waist. “Yeah?”
She looks over her shoulder and holds my stare. “Thank you.”
I don’t ask her what for. I know. But I don’t need her gratitude. What I need is to show her that she’s not alone. That whatever battles we have to face—whether it’s Igor or the demons inside her—I’m in this with her. I press my lips to her shoulder, then her neck, letting the kiss linger.
“You don’t have to thank me, Alexia,” I say softly. “I’m doing this because it’s you. Because you’re mine. And I’m yours.”
I keep a hand on her hip and reach around with the other to cup her sex. We moan when I press my middle finger on her clit.
“That’s hot,” she breathes, resting her head on my shoulder.
I slip two fingers inside her, pumping fast. “You’re so fucking wet, always ready for me.”
My erection throbs between her ass cheeks. She rubs herself against my cock. “Always.”
I inhale sharply. “Don’t tempt me, pet. You know I love your perfect ass.”
“It’s yours.” She parts her legs and sticks her butt up. Turning her head to lock eyes with me, she adds, “I’m yours.”
I have no self-control when Alexia does stuff like this. I don’t even try to hold back. I turn off the water, towel us dry, and we step out of the shower stall.
When we return to the bedroom, I guide her to an overstuffed armchair under a reading lamp and order. “Kneel on the cushion. Brace yourself.”
She obeys with quick movements and shallow breaths. I wrap my fingers around my cock and tease her wet sex with it. She squirms and moans as I coat myself in her pleasure. It’s not enough for her tightest hole. I grab a tube of lubricant from the top drawer of the nightstand. I squeeze a generous quantity between her cheeks before sliding the tip of my erection inside her and pause.
Alexia grunts as her body adjusts to my thick girth.
“You okay?” I ask softly against her neck. She nods, but I notice her white knuckles as her fingers grip the back of the chair. “We don’t have to do this if it’s too much for you.”
She looks back and smiles at me. “I’m fine. It’s just that it’s been a while. I’ll get comfortable. Don’t stop.”
I kiss her shoulder. “That’s my girl.”
Reaching around her, I cup her breasts and move a couple of inches further. I synchronize tweaking her nipples with penetrating her ass until I’m all in. Our breathing comes fast and ragged. I lean my forehead on her shoulder. My cock throbs deep inside her. Her flesh trembles under my fingers.
“I need to move. Are you still hurting?”
“No,” she whispers without conviction. I move a hand down to rub her clit, and she moans. “Yeah, that feels great.”
“Cover my hand with yours,” I command.
She does as I say, and I begin to pull out of her body while our hands build her orgasm. I thrust my hip forward, then back again, setting a slow rhythm to begin fucking her round ass. At the same time, our hands grow more frantic over her hard nub.
I speed up the movements of my hips as pleasure ignites every nerve. I sink my teeth into her shoulder and the first wave of pleasure makes her shudder. Our palms, now wet, slap her folds. I twist my hips to go deeper. My vision blurs and I can’t hold my own release any longer.
I guide her two fingers inside her own pussy and order, “Make yourself come for me.”
With my hands gripping her hips, I thrust my cock in and unload.
“Fuck!” I yell.
“God!” she echoes.
I wrap an arm around her chest and pull her up until our mouths fuse in an endless kiss. I keep pumping her butt and she keeps trembling in my arms as our lips suck.
When we finally come down from the pleasure high, I let go of her mouth. She leans into me, her head resting against my chest. For a moment, everything else falls away. The world outside doesn’t matter. The dangers that lurk in the shadows, the fears we haven’t faced—they’re all gone.
I hold her close, feeling her heart thunder like a frantic drum, matching mine. For the first time in a long while, I allow myself to hope. To believe that maybe, we can have something beyond the violence, the chaos. That we can find peace together, even in the middle of this war.
But I know it’s an illusion. The outside world is waiting, and it won’t stay at bay for long.