But he’s my monster.
Maybe this is why he loves Edgar Allan Poe—the macabre, the dance with death, the horrible longing for peace that never comes.
Desperation.
Because sometimes, staring into darkness with your own two eyes makes the one you dwell in that much easier to handle.
I manage to speak. "Yeah, I’m making progress. I’ll have it done by the end of the day."
"All right," he says. "Take a break."
He winks at me, and my heart turns over in my chest.
"I don’t want Rafail to think you’ll do exactly what he says the moment he asks."
A smirk.
"I’m the only one who gets that privilege."
I scoff. "That’s what you think."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Matvei
Anissa is almost better.
She’s managed to pull herself out of bed, and I’ve allowed it.
She did such an impressive job with the task Rafail gave her that he wants to assign her another. But I tell him she needs a break because she’s been sick.
The truth is—I don’t want her working.
I miss her.
I’ve done everything I can to baby her. And while she protests and insists she can handle herself, she likes it.
I know she does.
And goddamn, I love having someone to take care of.
She praises my cooking and sighs contentedly when I rub her back. We take every bath or shower together now. I love the way she lets me massage her skin and wash her hair.
I even painted her nails.It was harder than it looked.
But it hasn’t been easy not fucking her through all of this.
I’ve banged a few off in the shower, but it does nothing to satisfy my appetite.
I want her hot, tight cunt wrapped around my cock.
Her nails clawing at my back.
Her over my knee because she’s earned a good fucking spanking with her sass.
I wanther.
But I don’t want to hurt her.
