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Alexei’s words reverberate through me, raising goosebumps all over my bare skin. Or maybe it’s the warmth of his breath against my neck and the knowledge that I have nowhere to run, that after all these years, I’m finally going to lose this high-stakes game we’ve been playing. Then again, maybe it’s for the best. I’m tired of running, tired of fighting.
I understand now that this man was always destined to destroy me.
It was written in the stars on the day both of us were born, precisely five years apart.
“That’s it. Stop fighting it,” he murmurs into my ear, loosening his grip on my wrists, and perversely, it’s his words that provide me with the strength to resist the insidious desire thrumming inside me, the treacherous arousal weakening my knees. I may no longer be that naïve, foolishly brave fifteen-year-old, but a part of her is still within me.
With a jerky movement, I twist out of his hold and dart around him, backing up toward the middle of the spacious room. My heart hammers frantically, and it takes everything I have not to wrap my arms around my naked body, to stand tall as his eyes scorch a path over my bare breasts and belly before returning to my face.
His own face is drawn tight with savage need, spots of color burning hot on his high cheekbones. His voice is low and rough. “Is that how you wish to play it?”
I dampen my lips. “I’m hungry.” It’s a lie—I’m actually a little seasick—but it’s the only thing I can think of to buy myself more time.
His nostrils flare, and I can sense the conflicting instincts warring inside him. In his own fucked-up way, he cares about me, about my comfort and well-being. He also wants me. He has ever since we first met, though I didn’t know it until years later. My nails dig into my palms as I wait to see which side of him wins out.
He comes toward me, his steps slow and deliberate. “You’re hungry.”
I don’t back away this time. What would be the point? I’m entirely at his mercy in this room, on this boat. My brothers are looking for me, I’m sure, but even with all the resources at their disposal, they won’t find me anytime soon. A boat is nothing but a moving speck in a vast ocean.
Still, it’s all I can do not to cringe away as he stops in front of me and tilts my chin up with curved fingers. I’m acutely cognizant of my nakedness, my vulnerability, especially since he’s still dressed in the dark clothes he favors—not that he’d be any less intimidating without them. I’m above average in height, but he’s at least a full head taller, his shoulders more than twice as broad as mine, his muscles cut from steel.
He can do anything he wants to me, and we both know it.
Fatalistically, I meet his coal-dark gaze and wait for him to decide my fate.
Chapter8
8 Years and 5 Months Earlier, New Hampshire
SENIOR PROM, the shiny banner proclaims as I enter my high school gym, which has been transformed into a ballroom worthy of a palace. The latest pop songs blare from the speakers, and the atmosphere is thick with teenage hormones and drama. Occasionally, despite the chaperones’ best efforts, you can also catch a whiff of pot.
I shouldn’t be here, since I’m still a junior, but two of my best friends are seniors and they begged me to come with them, so here I am.
“You’re our cute-guy bait,” Risha told me. “We need you.”
It’s total bullshit, of course. An up-and-coming Bollywood star, Risha is as gorgeous as they come. She worries about me, though. So does our friend Giles. He thinks it’s unnatural that I’m almost seventeen and haven’t been on a single date.
“Do you think you might be asexual?” he asked me a few months ago, his British accent lending the words a certain poshness. “It’s totally cool if you are.”
“I wish,” I told him with a grimace. “Sadly, I like dick, same as you.”
“Then why don’t you get some?”
“I will. One day.” When I’m no longer betrothed—but I couldn’t tell him that. None of my friends at school know about the medieval contract hanging over my head, casting a shadow over every aspect of my life.
Even though I haven’t seen Alexei since that day in my parents’ library, I can’t forget about him and the threat he poses to my future. I dread each birthday because even though no actual dates have been set, I know that eighteen is most likely when I’ll be deemed “old enough.” At least for dating, if not for marriage—and I can only guess what dating a man like Alexei Leonov will entail.
I fought against the betrothal, of course. No matter what Alexei said, I couldn’t meekly accept the situation and wait to see how it shakes out in the future. For three days straight, I cried and begged; for months afterward, I gave my parents the silent treatment. Time and time again, I told them I won’t do it and they can’t make me. None of it mattered. The contract stands, and even though Alexei isn’t in my life yet, I know he will be soon.
“There you are,” Risha yells, spotting me from the dance floor. She waves madly. “Come join us!”
I wave back. “I’m getting a drink first!”
Pushing through the crowds, I make my way to the refreshments station. There’s punch, naturally, but there’s also sparkling water, sparkling grape juice, kombucha, and every non-alcoholic cocktail you can imagine, prepared by an actual bartender.
When rich kids party, you can’t get by with something as basic as colored sugar water.
I get a glass of kombucha, because microbiome, and then I discreetly bum a joint off of a guy I know. In the past year, I’ve discovered that I like pot. It quiets the anxiety that always gnaws at my stomach these days.
