Once I have the dismantled surveillance cameras in my hand, all seven of them, I request for Justine to follow me into the bathroom. The air turns roasting when she immediately jumps to my command. Her steps are shaky, but a gleam in her eyes has me skeptical fear isn’t solely responsibly for her wobbly knees.
The strong don’t cower when fear comes knocking. They welcome it with a smile.
When I dump the cameras into the bottom of the bathtub before twisting on the faucet full pelt, Justine gasps in a sharp breath. She watches me with her mouth hanging open when I climb into the tub to crush the small black devices with my boots, preferring to be cautious than be played for a fool for the second time today.
Just because the devices were hardwired, doesn’t mean they don’t have backup batteries. My men were caught out by a rival once before. They learned from their mistake.
Once the recording apparatuses are as shattered as the expression on Justine’s face when I offered her to Vladimir as a gift, I stray my eyes to Justine’s. “Happy?”
She’s lost as to where I’m going with this, but since she’s more trusting than scared, she nods her head. Slanting mine to the side to hide my smile, I climb out of the bathtub and make my way to her. As I did the last time we tussled in this very room, I drastically reduce the length of my stride, giving Little Red Riding Hood plenty of time to escape the Big Bad Wolf.
Unlike our last soiree, Justine doesn’t seek the closest exit. She holds my gaze as I bridge the gap between us, her breathing as unhinged as my desire to show her she’s perfect.
A floral scent stirs my cock when I grip the hem of her dress to pull it over her head. The thin cotton material falls to the floor with a whoosh, concealing the whistle of my lungs from the hurried breath I suck in. I’m not gasping in horror. I’m struggling to maintain a rational head.
Her body… Fuck. Me.
I’m a goner.
I want her now more than ever.
Her perfect tits, her milky white hips, and the scant little pair of panties she’s wearing has me wanting to forget why I’m stripping her bare. I want to sample the scent growing stronger with each second ticking by. I want to fuck her until the embarrassment in her eyes disappears, but since I know that will tiptoe her closer to the madness I’m endeavoring to save her from, I listen to the head on my shoulders instead of the one headbutting the zipper in my jeans.
It’s a fucking hard feat.
A vibrant pink hue creeps across the thrusting globes I’m struggling to ignore when I press my lips to a bite mark on Justine’s right shoulder. “Perfect.” I drop my lips to the tear that forced her onto her knees during her mauling. It’s as silky as the skin on her stomach, but glittered with strength. “Perfect.”
When I fall to my knees, a smirk curls my lips. I’ve always believed it is better to die than show weakness by kneeling. Clearly, I had no clue the power associated with kneeling before a woman whose only weakness is you. I may be on my knees, but I am the most lethal I’ve ever been, because nothing will stop me from protecting this woman. Not a million bullets or the Almighty himself.Nothing.
“Perfect,” I mumble against two smaller bites on the back of Justine’s knee.
I kiss every bite I know of, and a few she kept well-hidden, before standing to my feet and locking my eyes with ones that aren’t as pained as they were minutes ago. “I previously said you’d be worth three nights in lockup. I was wrong. You're worth so much more than that. You're perfect, Justine. Don’t ever let a monster like Vladimir lead you to believe any different.”
I anticipate for the lust depriving the air of oxygen to thicken from my confession. All I get is more torment. She wants to believe what I’m saying, but her exchange with Vladimir didn’t just dint her ego, it stole her trust as well.
Justine stiffens like a board when I spin her around to face the vanity mirror. It’s one of those old school Hollywood ones with over a dozen lightbulbs covering a rectangular wooden frame. The bright lights illuminate her pale skin, making her glow as if she truly is an angel.
“Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.” When Justine shakes her head, I tighten my grip around her waist before repeating my demand in a manner she won’t be able to refuse. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see, or I’ll bend you over the tub and fuck you so mindless, you’ll submit to my every command without stopping to think.”
I understand this is hard for her to do, but I need her to see the woman I do before she’s swallowed by a blackness so thick, no amount of purity will clear.
When Justine’s eyes remain arrested on the floor, my dominance gets the better of me. “Five. Four. Three...”
My words trail off when her eyes slowly lift to our reflections beaming from the retro mirror. At the start, she stares directly at me, her focus only shifting when the contrast between our bodies becomes too great for her to ignore. Her eyes shoot in all directions as they take in the way my large frame swaps her tiny one. Her skin looks super pale against the darkness of the ink covering a majority of my body, and although both our eyes have shades of blue, her are too angelic to ever appear evil.
“We look like night and day. Darkness and light—”
“Angel and devil,” I interrupt.
As confirmation flares through Justine’s impressive eyes, I pull her molten-red hair away from her shoulders. My hold around her waist allows me to feel the surge of her pulse when the bright lights emphasizes the slithers of silver in her scars, but she remains as quiet as a church mouse.
After locking my eyes with the mirror, I ask, “What do you see now?”
Justine’s pupils swamp her corneas when she mumbles, “I’m not who I used to be, Nikolai...” Her words are replaced with a squeak when our eyes collide for the quickest second. The thirst I saw in her heavy-hooded gaze the day we met is unmissable in mine. Scars or not, I want her. She’s beautiful. A true gift from heaven.
“Nothing changed,Ahren…Nothing.”
When disbelief remains in her eyes, I set her back onto her feet before taking three steps backward. Her lips twitch like she wants to question my retreat, but before a word can spill from her pouty mouth, I yank my shirt over my head by the tag at the back before popping open the button on my jeans and sliding down the zipper.
