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“BlackHoney”—Thrice
“Nice to see you’ve cleaned up and made yourself presentable for your husband-to-be.” My father’s voice registered in my mind as I blinked and started to wake myself. Groggy, I raised my head in confusion.
“Ogun?” I called, though I knew he wasn’t there and there would be no one to save me.
My head was jerked up by the hair, and I yelped in pain. “You thought you were too good for Ivan, yet you want to spread your legs for some biker trash? You’re a fucking whore just like I always knew you’d be. Fuckingshlyukha.”Whore.
“I’m not a whore, but if I am—you made me one.” My disdain for him dripped from every word.
Smack!
My head whipped to the side as he hit me. Warm wetness trickled down my chin, and I was pretty sure he’d split my lip.
“You act like you’re too good for the man I chose for you, yet you fuck trash? You’re a fucking slut just like your mother!” My astonishment knew no bounds that he could speak of my mother like that.
“She’s been a good wife to you!” I argued with angry tears in my eyes.
“A good wife? You call a fucking whore a good wife?” He scoffed in indignation. Then he dragged me off the bed by my hair. My hands grabbed at the base of my skull in an attempt to alleviate the pain.
“She is no whore!” I screamed. My mother had been the rock I’d leaned on. She’d encouraged me to chase my dreams and not to settle for less than the best. When I was a child, she’d often tried to protect me the best she could from my father’s wrath, even at the expense of her own safety. After my father had sold my virginity, she held me as I cried for weeks. She’d blamed herself for not being there. Then she’d covertly arranged counseling for me that earned her two black eyes when my father had found out months later.
“Isn’t she? She fucked my own man behind my back. You call that a good wife? She thought I would never know! Then nine months later, she spits out a fucking child that looks nothing like me. She thought I wouldn’t know you were Aleksandr’s child!” He screamed in my ear as he hit me again. My mind whirred as shock froze me on the spot.
“What?” I whispered as my heart shattered. Not at finding out the horrid man I’d thought was my father wasn’t but wondering if this Aleksandr was still alive. Did he know about me? Did he care? Had my mother loved him or was it just sex? The questions spinning in my head were endless.
“Yes, you heard correctly, which is why you’ve never been anything but a pawn to me. If you won’t marry Ivan, then you are of no use to me. In that case, I’ll at least recoup some of what you’ve cost me over the years.”
From the floor, I looked up at him and snarled. “Oh, because the million dollars you sold my virginity for wasn’t enough? What more can you do to me?”
He jerked my robe from my body so hard, I heard it rip. Trying my best to shield my nudity from him, I clutched the torn pieces in front of me. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
He crouched down in front of me and trailed a finger along my cheek. I recoiled and pulled my face back, but he grabbed it in a bruising grip. In an evil whisper, he said the words that made my blood run ice-cold. “You’ll go to the highest bidder, where your new owner will fuck you whenever, wherever, and however he wishes, my dear Kira.”
I gasped in disgust.
“Get dressed. You have a fiancé to impress. Unless you’d like to choose option B. Oh, and if you do? Your pretty little friend you were living with will go with you. You have half an hour. If you’re not dressed, I’ll drag you out like you are.” He gave me a cruel smile, then stood and walked away. Curling in on myself, I lay on the floor staring out the window and pleading in my mind for Ogun to find a way to save me.
No surprise that my prayers didn’t get answered. Desolation unfurled in my chest, and I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t give my father—no, Grishka—the satisfaction. Numbly, I got up and splashed cold water over my face. The cut on my lip stung and started to bleed again, so I held a washcloth against it until it stopped.
Forgoing any makeup, I brushed my hair and twisted it up.
A shaky inhale did nothing to fortify my resolve.
The thought of finding a way to break the glass to the balcony and jumping held more merit than willingly succumbing to becoming Ivan’s wife. The thought of the alternative option made me want to vomit.
Dressing in the red dress my “father” had brought with him when he barged in, I curled my lip in revulsion. The low dip in the front damn near reached my belly button. The back was nothing more than a maze of strings that ended nearly at my ass crack. While I’d have happily slipped into the slinky thing for Ogun, the thought of putting it on to essentially be sold made me retch.
Diamond chandelier earrings that likely cost more than my car were my only jewelry. I wanted to shove them down Grishka’s and Ivan’s throats. If they choked on them, I’d dance on their graves.
“Ogun, I love you,” I whispered into the still air of the room. Tears welled, and I blinked them away.
The red-bottomed shoes I slid on were like gloves on my feet, but I hated them. Each step was like one closer to my executioner. The click of the heels on the tile floors was a death knell.
The two men I despised were sipping on what would only be the finest Russian vodka when I stepped into the room. They both turned in my direction, and I shuddered at the hunger I saw in Ivan’s eyes.
“Kraseevaia zhenshchina.”Beautiful woman, Ivan murmured, and my nostrils flared angrily.
“Kira, come,” the man who’d called himself my father ordered. As if I was a dog. Then again, I pretty much was now.
