This is the second time I’ve walked into his room. Only, this time it’s not because I’m looking for something of his. It’s because I don’t want to be alone.
There’s a lot on my mind right now, and it’s honestly terrifying to be left alone with my thoughts. Every time I close my eyes, I see the dead man staring at me. He could still be downstairs for all I know. His eyes could still be wide-open, staring at where I sat. Blood could be drying on his face slowly as the minutes pass. I was the last thing he saw before his soul left his body.
He’ll never stop seeing me, and I’ll never stop seeing him.
Opening the door softly, I look into the dark room. “Mikhail,” I whisper, but I get nothing in return. I slowly inch toward the large bed he’s resting on. What will he think if he wakes up and I’m in his bed? I tug on his arm. “Mikhail,” I say in my regular voice, hoping he’ll wake up, but he doesn’t.
Taking a moment to look at him, I notice how handsome he is. His arms—the size of my head—should terrify me, but I almost welcome the fear. The man is fucking frightening. The tattoos covering his body don’t help either. They trail all the way up to his hairline, covering his neck. Even his hands have ink on them.
Come to think of it, I’ve never met a man in the Bratva who doesn’t have a tattoo, but I’ve never seen one have this many.
I step away from Mikhail and walk to the other side of the bed. My feet sink into the soft carpet as I stand there, hesitant to sleep in the same bed as him. Across the room are two black sofas. I couldn’t sleep on them, but at least I wouldn’t be alone.
Just get in the bed, Sloane.
I slowly slip under the covers and move to the edge of the mattress. The bed is huge, so this shouldn’t be a problem.
That is until his arm snakes around my waist and pulls me closer.
“Does the night scare you more than I do, Koldunya?” he asks in a dark voice that makes me regret my decision to come here.
I choose not to answer him because I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear the truth.
His face nuzzles into my neck, making my skin shiver and burn at the same time. Did I come in here because I was scared of being alone, or because I want more of him?
No, I can’t want him.
But, fuck, I do. I don’t even care what that says about me anymore.
“I asked you a question. Answer it.”
It’s hard to think about anything when his hand pulls on my waist, and he presses himself closer to me so I feel how hard he is. His fingers run up and down my body, tugging at the clothes that cling to my skin.
“Yes,” I cry.
“Do I need to fix that?”
Oh Jesus, what am I doing right now? “Yes,” I manage again.
He reaches his arm to the other side of my body and lifts me on top of him. Seeing him underneath me brings a feeling of power. Then he grabs my neck and pulls my face toward him, his lips only inches away from mine.
He hesitates.
I feel his warm, minty breath.
Mikhail’s fingers dig into my hips, forcing me to ride on his. I feel every inch of him against me, and I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I’m welcoming a toxic lust into my life, and I don’t see a problem with it right now.
I move away from him only slightly, and he takes the opportunity to grab onto my shirt and tug it off me. His lips land on my neck, then on my nipples. I want to collapse at the feeling of his lips wrapping around the center of my breast.
His hand cups the other aggressively as I lean into his body. Everything around me becomes nonexistent the moment he throws me off him. He pulls me toward him by my legs, then he pushes them aside and climbs between them. His fingers reach for my face, brushing my messy hair out of my eyes.
“Ya lublu tvoyi volosi,” he murmurs. “Tvoyu kozhu, tvoi glaza, tvoi gubi, tvoi vesnushki.” I love your hair. Your skin, your eyes, your lips, your freckles.
Mikhail lowers himself onto me and leaves a trail of kisses all over my body. He kisses every inch of my skin, but not my lips.
I can hardly see anything besides the shadow of him. I focus on where his hands touch my body instead.
He pulls on the waistband of my shorts, tugging them off my hips slowly. His arms land either side of my head while he hovers his lips over mine. I brush my fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands as an outlet. It feels as if my heart is racing to finish a marathon when he rubs my clit in gentle circular motions. I try to shove the sounds he’s forcing out of me back down, but it’s impossible. I want to scream with pleasure.
“You only get to make those sounds for me. Do you understand?” he asks firmly.
“Yes,” I say.
“Ti bistro uchishsa, Koldunya.” You learn fast, witch.
My eyes roll when he pushes a finger inside me. It hasn’t even been a day since the last time he touched me, but this all still feels brand-new, as if his hands were made for my body. He lowers himself down onto me and parts my legs.
Chills take over my skin when he licks me. He never demands anything of me when we share a moment like this. He never makes me do anything to him or even gives me the opportunity. He gets off by touching me.
His tongue moves over every sensitive part of my body, and when I grab onto the sheets beside my hips his fingers intertwine with mine.
“Oh, Mikhail,” I moan.
He groans with the taste of me on his lips.
I never thought I’d be so easy to please. He’s either done this far too many times to count or he knows how to work my body perfectly.
“Ya hochu,” he growls. I want it all. “Kazhduyu posledniyu kaplu.” Every last drop.
My breaths come out unsteady as I reach my climax. My stomach falls the moment I come on his tongue. He licks, sucks, and bites my skin. It’s aggressive, and I love every second. I don’t even know my own body as well as he knows it.
Mikhail stands up from the bed and opens his dresser drawer. He puts a shirt over me and tugs on the bottom. I already know it’ll fit me like a dress. Then, walking over to my side of the bed, he fluffs a pillow for me. As if I’m incapable of moving myself, Mikhail lifts me up and places me in the center of his mattress, pulling the covers up over my body.
His shirt is baggy, beyond comfortable. I could melt in the scent of his cologne. It’s a spice, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“You should be able to sleep now,” he says, walking out and closing the door.
I don’t have the energy to run after him and apologize for taking over his room. Instead, my eyelids fall while I try to process what the hell just happened.
I’m woken up by the sound of Mikhail yelling at someone. The voices echo through the entire house.
I throw off the sheets and walk down the stairs to his office, cracking the door open just enough that I can see them. His voice is loud, so harsh I feel his anger within myself.
Why is he so pissed off?
My fingers curl around the fabric of Mikhail’s shirt. Peering my head around the corner, I see him yelling at Lev, his fists slamming down on the table. Lev looks unfazed by his words, but he doesn’t say anything back, which only fuels Mikhail’s fire.
“You fucking did this,” he says with his hands flat on the table, head falling between his shoulders.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know they’d follow me?”
Mikhail shakes his head slowly. “Two years. I spent two fucking years finding her, and now they know where she is.”
My head feels heavy at this. He spent two years looking for me? What the fuck makes me so special?
“They’re not here though. They don’t have the balls to attack. They don’t even have the men to attack,” Lev bites back.
Attack? I don’t want my family to attack. I don’t want them to get hurt.
“They’re trying to find the right angle.”
“Ona von tam,” Lev mutters under his breath. She’s right there.
Mikhail turns his head toward me, and I throw myself against the wall, out of sight. Lev called me out for eavesdropping. It’s what he’d do. He’s never shared any ounce of pity for me. Not that I want his pity, but a little help in my position would go a long way.
“Koldunya,” Mikhail says. “I thought you’d know better than that.”
His cold voice sends chills down my skin. It’s like frostbite all over my body.
“You woke me up. I just wanted to see if everything was all right,” I say, trying to calm him down.
His gaze runs up and down my body as a soft smile tries to overtake his lips, but he bites it back.
A warm body presses into my back and pushes me into the room. “Wow, you really did have a rough night, didn’t you? Mikhail finally break you in? Lev and I had a bet to see how long it’d take for him to crack.”
Dimitri.
He pulls down on my curls, forcing my attention on him.
I shake my head quickly. I don’t want them thinking I’m the one who cracked. I’m stronger than that. It was a moment of weakness. I didn’t want to be alone, and it seemed Mikhail didn’t either. It was as if he enjoyed my company.
“You can admit it, sunshine.”
Dimitri is the last person I expected to irritate me. “I find it hard to believe Lev would stoop to your level of arrogance,” I tell him. Dimitri is funny, sure, but he always makes things about himself. How is this any of his business?
He laughs. “Yeah, I thought the same thing. But he did.”
“At least you admit you’re arrogant.”
“Arrogant, not ignorant.” He glances at Mikhail suggestively, but Mikhail shakes his head.
“Take a seat,” Lev tells us.
Dimitri throws himself on the couch facing the table Lev’s sitting at. “If you’re sleeping with him now—”
I stand frozen. “I’m not sleeping with him,” I say.
“That’s not what your neck is telling me. You’ve got a little bit of a red mark right there.” He brings his fingers to his neck to show me where the mark is.
Mikhail lets out a huff of a laugh as he brings his hand up to his mouth.
The energy in the room shifts when Lev stands up and makes his way toward me. His fingers reach for my face, brushing my hair away so he can look at the mark on my neck. “I told you she’d be the one to ruin your plans,” he tells Mikhail.
I try to pull away from his touch, but his other hand grabs onto my waist, dragging me into him.
“I am curious though . . . Did he taste you?”
“Enough,” Mikhail demands.
“It’s enough when I get my answer.” His eyes fall to my chest.
“My eyes are north, not south,” I tell him, but I don’t push him away. I can’t help but think that if I were to push him away, his grip on me would only tighten.
“Oh, I’m aware. How does she taste, Mikhail?”
I look over at Mikhail. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the table.
“I said that’s enough.”
Lev’s mouth hovers over the mark on my neck. His warm touch makes my stomach twist.
Why isn’t Mikhail telling Lev to stop? I stare at him the entire time. He doesn’t want to watch this, but I can tell he’s waiting to see how far Lev will go.
Lev’s fingers lift the shirt to brush my inner thigh. My lips part, shocked by what he’s doing. I grab onto his back to keep my balance. It’s as if I can’t move. I’m not allowed to. Lev isn’t a kind person; pushing him off would only worsen my position.
“Derzhi ruki proch ot neyo,” Mikhail says huskily. Keep your hands off of her.
“If you don’t tell me, I can find out for myself.”
Dimitri walks up to us and pulls me away from him. Mikhail grabs Lev by the neck, shoving him up against the wall. He lets out a defeated sigh and smiles. Lev enjoys pissing Mikhail off.
Within a second, both men are yelling in Russian as Lev challenges Mikhail.
“Just let them fight it out,” Dimitri tells me. “Lev won’t stop until he admits it to him.”
My entire body tenses. What the fuck is happening? “Admits what?” I ask.
“How you taste,” Dimitri says.
“Why the fuck does that matter?”
“Because he’s never been down on a woman before.” Dimitri pours himself a drink. “We got drunk one night and Mikhail said it’s too intimate for him. This is Lev’s way of seeing how he feels about you.”
The room goes silent as Mikhail grabs my hand and tugs me away from Dimitri. I stumble over my feet as I try to keep up with him. Looking back, I see Lev looks content, like he finally got his answer.
I don’t know how to feel about anything right now. My thoughts are jumbled like they just went through a clothes dryer. Mikhail’s hands venture to my waist and he walks me all the way to the north side of the house—a part I’ve never explored before. His hands still on my hips, he guides me up the stairs into a bedroom. His head drops as he walks to the bathroom.
The room is gorgeous. The rug on the dark oak floors is embroidered with a floral design. The bed is padded, and the paneled walls are cream. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Mikhail flips the light on, and I follow the sound of water. The room has a feminine touch.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Ti pozvolila yemu prikosnutsa k tebe.” You let him touch you.
“I don’t know what you just said, but I don’t appreciate your tone,” I muse.
“Get in the water, Sloane.”
“Why? I took a shower last night.”
“You allowed him to put his hands on you. Get in the water.”
“I allowed him to put his hands on me? Are you fucking kidding me, Mikhail?”
He steps up to me and takes the shirt off my back, leaving me naked. I don’t fight him because I want his hands on my skin.
“You hurt my feelings,” he tells me, placing his hand on the small of my back with a gentle touch.
“Oh, really? How exactly did I do that?”
He doesn’t have feelings. Mikhail has a difficult time letting out any sliver of emotion that isn’t frustration or anger.
“Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be touched by a man like Lev.”
I look at the water pouring into the freestanding tub. He’s not mad at me; he’s mad another man touched me. “You make it sound as if I wanted him to touch me.”
He brings his thumb to my cheek. “If you need anything, Kroshka, all you have to do is ask.”
I shake my head and dip my toes in the water. He wants me to clean off Lev’s touch. He thinks I’m dirty now. His mind works in such a strange way—a way I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand.
“Let me,” Mikhail says in a deep voice. There’s something different about his eyes. They don’t appear as dark as I once saw them. He’s showing kindness in a way I’ve never known. It’s different—a good different—and that’s what’s scary about it. I don’t know how long it’ll last. If I say one wrong thing, he’ll go back to being heartless.
I allow him to wash my body. His fingers run through the ends of my hair, and I want to lean into his touch.
“I could sit here all day,” I tell him.
He chuckles, the sound of chimes again. The most incredible sound I’ve ever heard. I turn to look at him and see his smile. The kind of smile that force his dimples to show.
“The water would go cold,” he says.
“That’s why you add new water.”
He shakes his head and stands up, reaching his hand out for me to grab. I sigh and take it. Water falls off my body like raindrops.
“Mikhail.”
“Yes, Kroshka?”
“This was kind of you,” I tell him.
He ignores my compliment as if it’s painful for him to hear. “Breakfast tomorrow—do you want to try again, or would you like to stay in your room?”
I take the towel to my face and pat away the drops of water. “I can join you guys.”
He nods. “Good.” After waiting a few seconds until my body is dry, he takes the shirt off his back and puts it over me. “A new one,” he says in my ear.
I try to hide my smile, but it only widens when he pulls me in close. His arms wrap around my waist and his lips find the top of my head. He doesn’t kiss me; he just immerses himself in the moment he created for us.
“Wear this in the morning,” he whispers. “Run along now.”
He lets me go, and I walk to the bathroom door, turning back to look at him before I leave. Dressing me in his clothes is his way of claiming me as his. I know it is. Mikhail wants me to show up at breakfast wearing his shirt for Lev to see.
What am I getting myself into?
When I get out of bed, the only thing I do is throw my hair in a bun and put on some ChapStick since my lips are beginning to crack. I walk downstairs to the sound of laughter in the breakfast room.
The second I walk in, everyone stops talking. Max looks at me and then directly at Mikhail.
“Anyway, you’ll be leaving in a couple of days?” he asks.
Mikhail clears his throat, probably telling him stop talking, so I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. It doesn’t surprise me. Mikhail has shown me some kindness, but I can’t forget I’m collateral damage. I have no idea what he wants from me or if I’ll even make it out of this alive.
“Morning,” Lev says, bright and cheery.
“Good morning.” I shoot him a glare.
With a glance around the table, I see the only free seat is next to Mikhail. Moving one foot in front of the other to get there seems like a chore. My mind-splitting headache isn’t helping matters either. Just as I’m walking over to the table, my vision begins to fade. I grab onto the chair for support.
“Sloane, what’s wrong?” Mikhail asks with a concern that sounds foreign to me.
My ears ring and the world around me fades. I bring my free hand to my eyes and rub, trying to clear my vision. “I’m just dehydrated, that’s all.”
“Dimitri, call Knox,” Mikhail says under his breath.
When I hear Max swear under his breath, I frown with guilt and shame. He told me to go to him for help, but I didn’t.
When the black leaves my vision, I notice Mikhail standing right in front of me, holding me steady. My head is incredibly heavy. I feel myself falling into Mikhail’s arms before everything in my mind drifts away.
