Page 40 of Lord of the Underworld

"He… used to corner me whenever he could. Accompany me when I was being taken somewhere and tell me that I was a whore," I say bitterly, trying to breathe shallowly, not wanting to vomit and shame myself further. "I tried to tell my father, but…"

Vadim's face is set in stone.

Then, the realization breaks through my sleep-addled brain and I slump back against the pillow. "You did that to him," I gasp. "It was you."

"Yes." He nods.

I don't know what he expected me to do, but it wasn't this. I surge forward, flinging my arms around his shoulders, hugging him to me tightly.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." I say it into his neck, my forehead buried there, smelling the chill, soothing scent of this man, wanting to cry. Feeling so much gratitude that it sweeps away my outrage at him for making himself at home in my bedroom. "It wasn't just me," I stumble over the words. "There were…"

My new husband sighs, one arm sliding gently around my shoulders, his hand immobile, not patting me, a little stiff. I'm not sure if he knows how to hug, but he keeps his arm there.

"I know," he says flatly.

My body is boneless with relief. I am probably making him uncomfortable, but he lets me stay wrapped around him as long as I want before I look up at him.

"I'm glad you killed him," I say. "He deserved everything you did."

Oddly, he looks approving. "You're not afraid?"

"What- of you?" I ask incredulously. "No. Yefim was a human stain. He was an embarrassment, a violation of nature. I will never forgive my father for putting him in a position of power where it just made everything worse."

"Your father knew?"

Reluctantly, I slide my hands over his shoulders, and back into my lap. "I suspect he didn't bother to think about it," I say slowly. "If he had, he would have weighed risk-benefit ratios." I laugh bitterly. "Father's very fond of those. Very business-like, you see."

"Your brothers knew?" There's a steely glint in his eye now, and I know it's directed at Nikolai and Maks.

"You have to understand that Father hates sharing power. He enjoyed keeping my brothers as subservient as possible, until he had no choice but to give them some responsibility. They would not have been able to remove Yefim from his position on their own."

Vadim's big hands smooth the covers up over my lap, one hand resting on my thigh. "Do you think Nikolai will make a good Pakhan?"

I feel like I'm in the middle of a minefield. Like if I step wrong, it's going to set something off. "Yes," I say honestly. "He's smarter than Father thinks. I know he's been building relationships separately from Father's circle, other allies. Though he would never be disloyal."

He nods, as if the discussion is finished. I don't want it to stop. I don't want to end the conversation because this moment is miraculous somehow. If it stops and I wake up, it will be just another day of Vadim, silent and remote with me constantly wondering what he's thinking.

"So, you cut up Yefim?" I ask. He nods. "I'm so happy he suffered first. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Did you do it because... He was hurting me, or did you do it because I was your bride to be, and it was for your honor?"

There's a long moment as he studies my expression. "I would have killed him for anyone. But this was for you."

His tux shirt is unbuttoned now, and I can see the macabre dance of the tattoos across his sculpted chest. Wraiths and capering fiends. A battlefield of the dead. Sliding my hands up his forearms, I feel his thick muscles, the thick veins snaking toward his hands. My husband is warm, and solid and present. He is here with me. One hundred percent. Not thinking of business. Or the next person he needs to impress. What he has to do that day. He's looking at me as if I am the most important thing he has.

"Thank you,” I say, meaning it with everything in me, meaning it with all my heart. "May I kiss you?"

He arches that damnable brow, but leans closer. I take it as an invitation, putting one hand very lightly on his cheek, uncertain of what he's willing to accept.

The neck and face are the most vulnerable parts of a person, places touched only by those close to them. Or those who mean them harm. I want him to know I'm in the first camp. I try to recreate the kiss he gave me when we shared the bitter wine at the reception, so good that the cheers of everyone around us faded.

His tongue runs along the seam of my lips and twirls with mine. I suck on his full, juicy lower lip and he pulls away with me with a groan.

"I'm sorry!" I say automatically.

"Not tonight." It is said with some effort, which I find deeply flattering. Vadim rises from the bed, and I think he's leaving me. He goes into the bathroom, coming back with a wet cloth. To my abject mortification, he slides it between my legs with a dark little glint in his frosty eyes , tidying me before disposing of it.