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“Are we trapped in here?” My heart climbs into my throat, fluttering like panicked wings, making me light-headed. I clench and unfurl my fist endlessly while I close my eyes and count.
“We’re not trapped, but it’s not safe out there. Not for you. So we wait.”
This is the one thing that will crawl inside my head and fuck with all the recesses of my mind until I break.
How many years did Vlad torture me like this? Locking me in the dark. Sometimes a room. Other times a closet. The spaces growing smaller and smaller while he toyed with me, tortured me—filled me with fear of the unknown.
Every time, I waited for relief, for someone to find me while I wondered when he’d finally push it further. Screaming in the darkness, clutching at my throat, unable to temper my panic. By the time he and Nikolaj were sent off to a private school in Vermont, fear plagued me to the point I needed lamps scattered throughout my room to sleep at night.
But there are no lamps here. Just candles. How long before we have to douse those too? The heaviness in the room settles on my chest. There’s not enough air and before I can stop it, the edge of hysteria takes hold and every breath feels like it might be my last.
My vision goes black, my body heavy, the only sound the blood pounding in my ears and Konstantin. His voice is muffled, edged with fear, and so far away.
Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.
My throat burns. Drained of every ounce of energy, my arms turn to lead next to me on the bed.
Warm arms lift me, and I want to curl into him, but the darkness won’t release me from its grip. Seconds go by—maybe minutes—his warmth disappears and my body is lying against something cool and hard and slowly more light fills the room.
Tears spring to my eyes as my throat opens with a burn that makes it impossible to speak. Then there’s water. Cold water rushing under me. My eyes snap open and he’s there, with one hand under the water as it grows warmer, the other along my cheek.
Mouth tight, his skin pale, he watches me. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Just breathe.”
He lays his palm flat on my chest then, right between my breasts. The water on his palm soaks through the thin fabric and I shiver under his hand. His dark eyes leave mine, his gaze falling to the way he’s touching me.
We’re locked there, both focused on the rise and fall of my lungs. My nipples tighten painfully, and more than anything, I wish he’d touch me. The water fills around me, the skirt of my dress floating in the water around me, exposing my thighs.
“Did you bring clothes with you in that bag?” His voice is quiet and low. Pained.
“Yes.” The word is a whisper on my lips. My skin is on fire, the blood rushing under it flowing to all the right places, leaving me throbbing and desperate to be touched by far more than just his hand. I squeeze my thighs together, the ache only growing with every passing second.
The grimace is swift and he yanks his hand away. I catch the glint of his knife in the candlelight before he fists the side of my bodice where it meets the slit above my hip and slices clean through. Gliding the tip under the straps, he slices them away too until the fabric sinks to the bottom of the tub under me.
“I hated that dress,” he mutters, sheathing the knife once again.
I sink down deeper in the water, craving the warmth on my skin. “No, you didn’t. You just hated that other men saw me in it.”
He doesn’t look at me. Keeping his eyes averted, the cords in his neck flex. “You’re lucky, Pcholka. If it wasn’t for your panic attack, I’d have you over my knee right now as punishment for what you’ve done tonight.”
“Your idea of punishment would only guarantee I’ll do it again.”
He freezes next to me, his fingers turning white with the force of gripping the edge of the tub, the air pulsing between us.
When I settle my fingers over his, tracing along his index finger, his fingers flex—but then he’s on his feet and walking away.
CHAPTER SIX
KONSTANTIN
Every minute she’s in that tub is sheer torture. I refuse to turn around. It’s bad enough I have her naked body burned in my mind.
I thought I could keep myself under control, but then I cut that fabric from her body and not even being right under the very church where I held her during her baptism could stop the lust flooding me.
She’s always been mine, but not like this. We were never supposed to be this. As soon as she’s safely under Nikolaj’s protection, I have to leave. I won’t risk stoking this new awareness between us. I won’t encourage her. And I won’t survive a lifetime of resisting her just to watch her with another man. I cannot bear witness to her having his children, loving him, building a life with him.
I’ve done it before. Her mother was everything in a woman. Beautiful, full of life, funny, kind, and I spent every day wondering how a person like her walked this world untouched.
