It’s nearly midnight, and I can’t sleep because that’s all I do to pass the time. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten this much sleep in my life.
I take the comforter off the bed and move it to the open windows, where I wrap the blanket over my body and sit down. Just as I was starting to feel comfortable here, Mikhail made sure the feeling wouldn’t settle. He’s so heartless I can’t even begin to understand what made him this way. Dimitri practically admitted Mikhail would do anything for his sister, but I can’t see how that’s possible. And those scars. Who the hell did that to him?
I pity him in a sense. Maybe if he didn’t grow up in such a toxic environment, he’d be different. Able to show compassion and humility.
I stare down into oblivion while I think about my family. I miss them now more than ever. I wonder if they know Mikhail took me. Do they think I ran away? Hell, maybe they think I’m lying in a ditch somewhere.
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself. I know for a fact Dad is losing his shit right now, flipping tables and demanding his men search for me. But thinking about that won’t get me out of here. I need to find something on Mikhail. I need to be able to use something against him.
I throw the blanket off and walk down the side of the boat. Small lights line the bottom of the rails. This is the stupidest idea I think I’ve ever had, but it’s my only chance.
I roll my shoulders to rid the nerves that crush my lungs with a death grip and continue down the lit pathway. I pass by many doors but come to a halt when I see one cracked open at the very end of the hallway. I walk slowly up to it, careful not to make any noise. Pushing the door open, I cover my mouth with my hand to quiet my breathing.
Mikhail.
He’s asleep, lying on a large bed with dark sheets, his arm resting gently above his head, no sheets covering his torso. He’s made of muscle, and this should terrify me, but right now it doesn’t. I kind of see it as an opportunity. In a resting state, completely vulnerable, he almost looks sweet—the opposite of what I’ve come to know him as.
I look around the room to see if there’s anything of his I can take to use against him, but there’s nothing. His room is spotless. He doesn’t even have a water bottle by the side of his bed. The carpet even has the lines from a vacuum. Nothing about his room defines his personality. There’s no clutter that could show a sign of any hobbies he might have. It’s just his bed—the stage for his dark and demented dreams.
With my hand still over my mouth, I turn to leave, but something stops me. There’s a gun on the dresser. Which feels like a trap. A man like him wouldn’t leave his weapon out in the open like this, would he? But if he feels safe in the comfort of his own space, why wouldn’t he?
I walk up to it, considering my options. I could shoot him. But then his men would do the same to me. My hands begin to shake. Could I even do it? Could I kill someone? It contradicts everything I believe in.
“Pick it up,” a deep voice mumbles directly in my ear, making me jump out of my skin.
I look up into the mirror to find Mikhail’s big frame swallowing mine. My body covers his chest. His face is dead with no emotion.
“Pick. It. Up.” His voice is so deep I feel my heart drop.
I stare at him, and he does the same. His head falls back, and I see the outline of his jaw. His mouth opens slightly as his tongue rolls over his teeth. I gulp down my fear as he presses the front of his body to my back. He could snap me in half like a stick.
I walked straight into the lion’s den without thinking he’d wake up.
My hands fumble with the gun. Once it’s in my hands, Mikhail grabs onto my waist and turns me toward him quickly. My skin flushes as his fingers dig into my sides, tightening his hold on me.
“Point it at me.” His gaze narrows.
“I don—” I stammered.
He leans into me, his mouth right next to my ear. “Point. It. At. Me.”
I do as he says and point the gun at him, my stomach flipping with nerves. Why is he doing this? Everything is happening so fast I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Pull the trigger, Sloane.”
I look down, but he lifts my face up with his thumb. “If you’re going to kill me, you’d better fucking mean it. Look me in the eyes when you do.”
Barely able to keep myself steady, my heart thunders inside my chest. I don’t think I can do it. As much as I hate him, I don’t think I’m capable of killing him.
“I can’t,” I admit. He doesn’t need to know why.
He grabs my waist again, but this time he lifts me off the ground and sets me down on the dresser. His hands feel huge. He pushes my legs apart and steps between them. The gun is still placed against his chest. I’m scared to move it.
“You can’t?” he repeats as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. He’s softer with his hold on me here compared to his touch in the kitchen.
“No,” I manage to get out.
“Tell me why.”
I can’t tell you. “It wouldn’t change anything,” I admit.
He leans his face close to mine. “It would change a lot, Koldunya,” he whispers in my ear. Chills run through my body. “I would be dead.” He lays his hands flat on my thighs and inches closer to my waist. “I won’t give you another chance.”
I shake my head, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing comes out. He lifts my silk gown from under me so it’s bunched around my waist.
Then he pulls me closer to him. His muscular frame pushes right against mine. My head falls forward slightly when his lips hover over my neck. Goose bumps take over my skin. I lose control of my breathing as his hands roam my body freely.
“You’re just as fucked-up as I am,” he says as if he can read my mind.
His words don’t even get to my head because I already know that. The want I have for risk is something I shouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, but I want to. There is nothing welcoming about being here with Mikhail, and yet I can’t think of a better way to spend my time away from home. Years of being locked in a house hasn’t done me well. Mikhail intrigues me. Am I really as fucked-up as he is?
I don’t know if I can’t move because I’m terrified or because I want him to continue putting his hands on me.
His fingers trail closer to my inner thigh, and I suck in a sharp breath. When he reaches the seam of the lace, he pulls it to the side. I don’t stop him because I want this as much as I don’t want to admit to it. It feels as if my mind and body are screaming at each other. My body wants to pull him into me and crash my lips against his, and my mind wants to push him off me and tell him to go fuck himself.
But my body is winning.
His finger slides over my clit, and I drop the gun. His touch is soft—I begin to crave it. I’ve never hated someone so much yet wanted their skin on mine. I swallow the noises that threaten to fall from my lips.
“Oni biliy pravi o tebe, Koldunya,” he mumbles. They were right about you, Witch. He takes his hands off me and steps back.
“What are you—?” I breathe frantically.
He turns away from me, picks up the gun from the floor, and opens the bedroom door. Then he stands by it staring at me. “Out,” he demands.
“I thought—”
“You thought what? That I’d fuck you?” His eyebrows rise slightly.
Thank God it’s dark in here. What the fuck was I thinking—that he wanted me too? This is humiliating, but he doesn’t need to know he just offended me.
“Can’t please me, and I’ll just find someone who can. Lev? That’ll be interesting,” I say with a sass that comes out of nowhere.
He walks over to me slowly, pulling me into him by my hair. My body stiffens when I feel the cold metal touch my inner thigh. I don’t need to look down to realize he’s holding the gun I threatened him with against my skin.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks as his grip on me tightens. “Tell me what his reaction is when you’re screaming my name instead of his.”
I tilt my head to the side and push Mikhail’s chest to get him out of my way.
“Sloane,” he mumbles.
I hesitate to walk out the door.
“I want you on your best behavior tomorrow. And if not, I’ll just lock you up again.”
And with that, I storm out of his room.
