Page 14 of Devil's Kiss


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I just returned to the States a few days ago after being at sea for over six months. Before that, I floated between Denmark and Russia, where I’m predominantly based. That’s where Leif and I would meet over the years. I’ve hardly ever come to Boston because I wasn’t ready. Now I am.

I wonder what the princess is doing now. Is she scared?

She should be, although she looks like the type to try and fight fear.

I sense that fire I saw earlier is a taste of what I’m up against.

Uther looked unhinged, so I can only imagine he must have said a thing or two to his darling daughter.

The darling daughter I can’t wait to get my filthy, dirty outcast hands on.

This is the dawn of a new era, where those like me who walk in the dark reign.

God help anyone who stands in my way.

Or tries to take what’s mine.

ChapterFive

Anastasia

Resting my head against the satin wall, I stare at the sea in the distance through the long casement windows. I’d think the intricate carvings in the wood were beautifully designed if I weren’t trapped behind them like a bird in a cage.

My mother believed patience was the most powerful of virtues.

I always agreed. But there are some situations where not even the highest level of patience can help you.

Mine is without a doubt one of them.

Two hours ago, I arrived at the massive compound of Desmier Volkova’s mansion on Cape Cod. The house is one of the old-style Tudor homes you’d normally find in Salem, but his is ostentatious and has a haunted vibe.

The idea of being in a haunted mansion is creepy enough, but I feel like I’m trapped in one of my nightmares.

When I arrived, a rude-looking woman with silver hair and an upturned nose met us on the driveway. Then, without a word, she escorted me to this huge master bedroom I knew straightaway belonged to a man. It’s the décor. Dark colors surround me, from the navy wallpaper to the long curtains at the window, and the black silk sheets covering the king-size bed.

The only touch of difference is in the white Persian rug in the center of the room.

The woman left me in here to my thoughts—the first being that the room belongs to Desmier.

There was really no question about it. His scent, a mixture of the forest and the sea, clung to the air with the same power he exuded when he walked into my wedding and turned my world upside down.

To confirm my suspicions, I looked inside the wardrobes and chest of drawers. When I found men’s clothing that suited his style, I knew I was right.

As the time drifted by, my thoughts have become a chaotic mess.

I even tried to come up with an escape plan but realized all too quickly there was no way out for me—except the way I came in. The house and grounds are heavily guarded with armed men who look like they could form their own Bratva. And even though I was captain of the girls’ swim team in high school, I don’t think I could jump in the sea and swim out of here. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try; I just know the chances of escaping that way are slimmer than slim.

Dad, of course, hasn’t left my mind, but my biggest worry is what will happen when Desmier eventually graces me with his presence.

When I see him again, it will be in here. In this bedroom. And I will be all by myself.

I’m trying to balance my thoughts, but I feel just as unhinged and manic as when I found my mother lying dead in her bathtub—her body lifeless and gone forever, the water bloody from her slit wrists, and a bottle of pills scattered on the floor beside her.

It’s an image I’ll never get out of my mind. I don’t think anyone would, much less a fourteen-year-old who adored her mother to the ends of the earth.

I feel like I’m in that same limbo and my worries are chewing up my insides. Whatever Dad did is going to dictate what happens to me next.

With Dad, this mess could be aboutanything,and I know he has his secrets.

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