Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Xeniya Morozova
Fifteen Years Ago
His footfalls sounded after me, but he let me get to the center of campus before he caught up, and as he did, I whipped around and slapped him in the face.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” My gaze locked on his bruised knuckles.
He’d punched my date. The one time I had decided to try out men again after Chad… Severin had intimidated him, then punched him in the face, and it wasn’t even a well-formed punch. I didn’t know what bothered me more: that he did it or that he had poor form and hurt himself.
Because Severin never had poor form.
He was muscular and dominant. It was why he was so fucking dangerous: because he wasn’t just a strategic genius; he was also the brawn.
It wasn’t fair, really.
That good-looking. That jacked. That smart. Just fuck him.
We would never be evenly matched. I was highly trained, but he’d always, always be stronger. At least I was faster and far more surprising than him, which was why I managed to slap him just now.
Severin touched his cheek, his eyes darkening, but he said nothing. His muscles coiled, and his usually jovial lips pressed into a severe line. Harsh and unyielding, and he was a wall of muscle in front of me.
My heart shuddered in my chest as the icy wind bit at the nape of my neck, and I glowered at him. He could fuck a new girl every single night, parading them in front of me like they were Rose Bowl floats, and I couldn’t even flirt with a guy? Couldn’t even go on one fucking date?
We hadn’t even kissed yet, and I might have finally, finally gotten my first true kiss. At age twenty, for fuck’s sake, and then Severin had to burst in, rip him away from me, and punch him in the face.
“You will not kill him,” I said, crossing my arms and standing my ground. “This is not a Chad situation.”
Once again, Severin said nothing. And it was infuriating. I suddenly understood how my constant silence felt to him. But why? Why did he have to switch places with me now? It was my job to be maddeningly quiet and expressionless.
“You will not kill Spencer.” I poked him in the chest, trying to get some sort of response out of him. “You will not send me his head in a box as a gift. Do you understand?”
Still fucking nothing. Just anger and darkness pooling off of him like steam.
I let out a huff, and I punched him in the chest. Again, he let me, not trying to block at all. But it was like punching a mountain. I shook out my hand. Well, this conversation was utterly useless.
I turned on my heel and continued to walk away because fuck him.
If he wasn’t going to say a word to me after punching my date in the face, then I didn’t have to give him any of my time or energy.
But as I walked away, I realized that if I didn’t get a promise from him, he would send me Spencer’s head in a gift box.
I stopped in my tracks and futilely said again, “You won’t kill him.”
His dark presence lingered behind me.
Once more, I faced him. “Say something,” I screamed, my voice caught by the icy wind.
His expression hardened as he took one menacing step forward and captured my jaw in his hands. “I won’t kill him because he hasn’t touched you yet. But I will send you the head of any man you let touch you.”
Every muscle in my body grew taut like a bowstring. My pulse jumped beneath my skin, and his fingers slid down my neck to feel the movement.
What did he mean by that? Why say it? Why do it? He refused to let me have any dates, any men, but he fucked half the cheerleading squad. He just wanted to possess me and fuck me like all his other girls, and I refused to be just another notch on his belt.
He didn’t want me. Not really. I was a fleeting goal for him, and if I let him fuck me, he’d move on to his next conquest the very next day, if not the same hour.
No, I was a game to him—a challenge. I’d watched him do this same thing to countless girls in high school.
And foolishly, I’d thought I would be immune to his sinister ways, but somehow, in the last two years, his eyes had fallen on me.
His fixation had latched onto me and hadn’t let go.
Severin Volkov didn’t desire me for me. He just didn’t want anyone else to have me.
“You don’t own me.” The words came out through gritted teeth, and my tone was poisonous. “I’m not yours.”
“No, you aren’t.”
His hands fell to his sides and slid into his pockets, but the cruelty didn’t leave his stance.
It was etched into him; he was formed from wickedness and dark cravings.
I knew the way he liked to fuck his women.
It was a lot like the way he killed. He stalked, he tormented, he chased, and he satisfied the darkness that coated his soul.
I knew because his former conquests whispered of his dominant, primal ways.
I shook my head, my nostrils flaring. “I don’t like this version of you.”
“Good.”
My face grew tight with held-in emotions. I would not let him know how deeply he affected me. I didn’t want his attention anymore. I wanted him to move on to his next victim. I took two hesitant steps back, my gaze locked on his deep blue irises. Emptiness greeted me.I shivered, and then I ran.
As fast as I could, I ran.
Which probably only fueled the sick cravings inside of him, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away. I could have fought him… actually fought him. But that would leave both of us with bruises, and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I could beat him.
Anyone else?
Maybe.
Severin Volkov.
Fuck no.
So I ran.
I ran past the Rockefeller Chapel and Ancient Cultures Museum and into the Main Quad. But I didn’t continue forward. I needed to lose him. So I dodged right, between Stuart Hall and the Department of Psychology.
I cut through tight spaces to force myself to get the upper hand. He was big, I was small. That was my main advantage.
I was usually faster than him in a sprint, but I was in fucking heels… heels. Okay, maybe I didn’t want to be like all the other girls anymore. Running in heels was neither a blessing nor useful.
I kicked them off and kept going. I took a tight turn and navigated through a narrow passage. Severin didn’t take the bait. He cut the angle instead, redirecting me and closing in on me.
I felt him on me. I didn’t have to turn to see. I knew it.
His advantage would always be up close and well, shit. We were going to fight then because I wouldn’t give in to him. But the fight would start on my terms.
I cut another corner, blocked him off, and got away.
My breaths were steady and controlled. This was barely a warm-up for me. But I still ran.
I didn’t maintain the advantage for long. Severin was closer now. His feet echoed less, and he pulled more weight into his stride. Then his fingertips brushed my arm, and he almost caught me, but just in time I slipped away and behind a tree, my feet still moving on the grass.
Still running.
But his footsteps didn’t falter. It would be only moments before I completely lost all advantage.
In an instant, I stilled completely and let him catch me, and at the last moment, I pivoted tightly and drove my elbow hard into his ribs. Quick, precise, and sharp.
The impact of my hit reverberated through my muscles and bones. I shook out my arm, having hit my funny bone.
Severin let out a rough exhale, my hit leaving him breathless.
I didn’t hesitate. I only had moments to get any advantage over him. I struck his thigh with the outside of my hand.
But he was too fast. He caught my wrist, his finger pads digging roughly into my skin.
I twisted my body, throwing my whole weight behind it to break out of his hold, and as I finished my turn, I brought my knee up into his groin.
But he blocked me with his thigh and let out a low growl. I snapped out another strike to his torso. If I were going to escape him, I needed to get him on the ground. But my blow didn’t land.
As I was about to strike, he pivoted his body and forced me off balance. I fell into him, but I was quick and able to get my feet underneath me. I ducked his hold and landed a quick, sharp hit to his lower stomach.
He let it land and crowded me, removing my ability to escape or land a harder hit—I needed momentum for that.
Damn.
I went for his throat, fast and without mercy, but he caught my wrist again. I twisted and almost got free, but his other hand was there. Containing me.
Fuck.
I shifted my weight, trying to drop low and get under his hold, but he was far, far too strong.
“Having fun?” he asked, not even winded.
“Yes.” I gritted my teeth and shifted my weight again. He mirrored my movement.
I drove my knee up, and he turned, his hip absorbing my blow again and throwing me off balance. My center of gravity shifted too far backward, and there was no time to correct the mistake.
He’d tricked me, lured me in.
My back slammed into the ground with a thud, and all the air rushed out of my lungs. His body followed me down, his hips straddling me, his weight pressing into me as he pinned my hands above my head.
My dress was pushed all the way up my thighs, exposing my blood-red underwear to the night sky.
A bead of sweat rolled down my temple. My chest heaved beneath the thin fabric.
His hard cock dug into my pelvis, and my gaze fell to it.
He smiled, digging into me harder, as if saying, You see how hard you make me?
Moisture thickened at my core. To my deepest horror, I was so turned on right now. And I hated it so much.
“I should fuck you for that.” He moved my wrists together, holding them with one hand and freeing his other one to move down to my stomach slowly, languidly traveling to the top of my panties. He played with the lace between his fingers.
I lifted my head to watch, my large boobs obscuring my view slightly. I wanted to say no, wanted to do something, but I was frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
He plunged his fingers beneath the lace and stroked two fingers along my very wet folds.
I stiffened. No one, no one had ever touched me there. I hadn’t even been kissed, for fuck’s sake. This was going all out of order.