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 wantdetails, 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 timelikeevery 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’dgladlytake 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?”
