“Is this your idea of a date?” I run my gaze over the picnic-like setting on the roof of the shelter.
When Annika demanded a date yesterday, I was ready to ignore her.
But that’s the thing about this infuriating girl. She’s impossible to ignore.
Every time I pretend she’s not there, she barges in with her colorful, chatty, and absolutely bratty presence.
Today, she came to volunteer with a huge carryall bag slung over her shoulder. Now, I see what it was for.
A checkered purple sheet lies on the ground and on top of it rests countless dishes. Pasta, meatballs, three types of salad, fish and chips, and a basket of fruits.
Annika is on her knees pouring what looks like apple juice into a glittery cup with an even more glittery straw.
I try but fail not to focus on her position. I’m almost sure she doesn’t mean to be a cocktease, but that’s exactly what happens when she naturally gets into these submissive positions and looks downright elegant while doing it.
Heat rushes to below my belt, and my cock slowly but surely awakens. It thickens at the thought of stretching and tearing her tiny cunt from the inside out.
Too soon.
She’s not used to pain.
Fuck, she didn’t even know pain before I came along. I have to remind myself that I can’t break her…yet.
Her fashion today doesn’t help, though. She’s wearing a ruffled skirt that stops above her knees and an off-the-shoulder crop top that reveals her belly button. With the way I’m looking down at her, she appears so small that I could ruin her with a flogging.
No, mere biting would do.
Her translucent skin would become red, then purple—like her favorite fucking color.
“Unfortunately, I’m like the first daughter and have to be watched at all times, so this is the only type of date we can have until further notice.” She smiles up at me, the blue-gray of her eyes sparkling under the hint of sun. “Are you going to just stand there all day?”
With a sigh, I lower myself onto the edge of the blanket and grab some utensils. “Do you have to make everything so…purple?”
“Do you have to be grumpy about everything? Besides, purple is superior. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”
I stare at her, and usually, she’d break eye contact or try to talk her way out of the situation, but this time, she simply shakes her head as if I’m the one being unreasonable.
Then she pushes the fish and chips in my direction. “Look, I made your favorite. Totally had to beg Ces to teach me how to cook it over FaceTime, and it wasn’t really that hard. Also, people say I’m a horrible cook, and by people, I mean my family is included. Ava also says I should stick to salad, so I totally understand if you don’t want to eat it.”
Should’ve said that before she gave me that cursed lunch box. I opened the container and took a bite of food and basically swallowed it without chewing. I’m the number one non-picky eater on the planet. As long as it’s food, I’ll devour it, but Annika is a certified food terrorizer.
She should be banned from the kitchen.
I’m surprised my expression doesn’t change as the salty thing rolls down my throat. I take another bite before the first one is gone.
When I grab a bottle of water, I realize she’s watching me with big eyes and parted lips.
“How is it?”
“Not bad.” An overstatement. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever consumed and that’s saying something, considering Mum isn’t that great of a cook either.
But just like my mum, Annika made the effort for me. So that’s a positive, I think.
Her face falls and she toys with the straw in her cup. “Oh.”
Is it normal that I hate that type of expression on her face? It’s even more noticeable when it drastically changes from all bright and fucking glittery to complete dejection.
“It’s good.” I continue eating. “Just a little bit excessive on salt.”
Another understatement.
“Really?” She reaches a hand out but then stops. “Can I try it?”
“No.”
“Stop being so stingy. I just want to see how bad the salt is.”
“Still a no.”
She stabs the fork in her salad and stuffs her face with it, glaring at me from beneath her lashes.
I resist the urge to smile at her absolutely comical expression and open my water. It’s the first time I’ve seen someone with their emotions so out there that it’s become a bit intoxicating.
It’s so entertaining to provoke or rile her up just to see the noticeable change in her face.
We eat in silence for a beat, or more like I eat, then drink water almost at the same time.
Still, I wait for the peaceful phase to end in three, two, and one—
“I thought this would be a date, but apparently, I just set you up with food. Maybe I shouldn’t include anything to eat in the future.”
You shouldn’t cook anything in the future.
But I don’t say that and, instead, move on to the meatballs after I finish the first dish.
Annika’s still holding on to her salad for dear life.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, why do you enjoy food so much? Actually, I don’t know if you really enjoy it or if you just like the act of eating.”
I swallow the mouthful of the equally horrific meatballs and lift my head. “Why are you asking?”
“I want to get to know you better.”
What’s there to know?
Having been acquainted with her personality, I have no doubt she’ll bolt at the first sign of darkness.
She didn’t run from your fucked-up side yesterday. Or the time before that.
I ignore that small voice and mutter, “There’s no need to.”
“Uh, no. That’s not up to you to decide. Although I’m not sure what we are exactly, I am sure we’re something, and the rules say we have to open up to each other. So you might want to tell me or I’ll bug you.”
I raise a brow. “You’ll bug me, huh?”
“To death, mister. You can count on it. I’m nothing short of persistent. In fact, persistent should probably be my middle name.
“Pretty sure it should be brat,” I grumble. She grins and I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Nothing. I like that you have a sense of humor, as dry as it is.”
“Did you just call me dry, brat?”
She slaps a hand to her chest in pure mock reaction. “Did you just call me a brat?”
“Watch it or I might start counting.”
She purses her lips, and a slight jerk lifts her shoulders. At least the promise of pain has an effect on her.
For now.
I take a sip of water and stare at the buildings in the distance. “There was a time in my childhood when I nearly starved to death. Ever since then, it’s always felt as if there’s a black hole in my stomach that can’t be filled or satiated, so whenever there’s food, I have this need to just…consume it all.”
Her hold weakens around her fork and she stares at me with puppy eyes.
Innocent eyes.
That I’m tempted to fill with tears all over again.
“Are your parents aware of this?”
“They saved me from that eternal starvation.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t pity me or this will be the last time I share anything with you.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I had no business pitying you, and I didn’t really mean to. Empathizing just comes naturally to me. But I swear to Tchaikovsky, I won’t do it again.”
I have known a lot of people. Some are secretive as fuck, others are fake, some are real, but all of them, without a doubt, hide a piece of themselves.
Annika is the only one who’s been this upfront about herself. What you see is literally what you get—most of the time.
I have a feeling that I can pull out the darkness lurking beneath the surface if I dig deeper and tug harder.
The fact remains, she’s the only one who’d admit to doing wrong without bothering to offer excuses.
And I might like that a bit too much.
She pushes the third dish, pasta, in front of me.
I take it, swallow a salty-as-fuck bite, then lean back on a hand with the plate on my lap. “What’s with you and Tchaikovsky?”
She beams, her face brightening as if she’s meeting her idol. “He’s my god. You know how people worship Jesus, Allah, and Buddha? I listen to Tchaikovsky’s ballets, concertos, and symphonies. They give me the same spirituality that religions strive for. It started when I was maybe four and Mom took me to my first ballet. I legit cried watching Swan Lake and got lost in Tchaikovsky’s brilliance. As soon as we got home, I told her, ‘We need to talk, Mom. I decided that I’m totally gonna be a swan when I grow up, so convince Papa and make it happen. Pretty please.’”
I glide my fork on the plate without eating. It’s not that I hate the saltiness so much, but her storytelling in that soft, energetic voice is more entertaining than food.
That’s a first.
“I assume she did make it happen?” I ask for no other reason than to keep her talking.
“At the beginning? She was totally against it. So, the thing is, and I found out more about this as I grew up from Mom’s favorite guard and best friend, Yan—he happens to be Papa’s least fave, by the way, because Papa can be petty and jealous. Anyway, Mom was like an iconic prima ballerina in the New York City Ballet, but her career ended abruptly. After that, she kind of hated the whole scene and only began coming to terms with her career ending when I was young, which is why she took me to that show in the first place. She has friends there—big-name directors, choreographers, and ballerinas. Still, she didn’t want me to experience that life. So instead of helping me convince Papa, he had to be the one to convince her. Shocker, I know. Couldn’t believe it myself. In the end, it all worked out and she agreed to let me start taking classes a few months after my first trip to ballet.” She sighs and sips on her juice. “I was so sure I wanted to be a ballerina. I even managed to get into several shows in high school and did so well, but Mom convinced me to try college for a year, study art from an academic perspective and see if maybe I like it better than ballet. I agreed more for the adventure than anything, and the chance to leave Papa’s watchful gaze, even temporarily. I’m not sure which one I like the best. I’ll just decide at the end of the year.” She lifts her head, eyes widening. “Sorry about that. I got carried away, I guess.”
“About what?”
“You…won’t say I talk too much?”
“You do talk too much.”
“Oh.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Oh.” This one comes with a grin. “But, you know, I feel like I talk too much around you because you talk too little. Someone has to fill the silence.”
“Why does it have to be filled?”
“Isn’t it human nature to socialize and form connections?”
“Not all humans are the same.”
“That’s true. I didn’t realize your type existed before.”
“My type?”
“Looks like a prince and has the tastes of the devil. Totally caught me off guard and blindsided the hell out of me.”
My lips tilt in a smirk. “The tastes of the devil, huh?”
“Duh, have you seen your face when you inflict pain—wait a minute, are you smiling?” She pulls out her phone and snaps what seems like a thousand pictures, long after I return to my blank face.
Still, she grins, looking pleased with her accomplishment as she scrolls through her phone.
I shift in my place to ease the sudden thickening beneath my belt. “You said you hate the pain. Is that still the case?”
“Totally. Who wants to be in pain?” She’s still focused on her phone.
My jaw clenches and I tighten my hold on the container. I thought she’d come around if I took it easy on her at the beginning, but maybe I’m wasting my time with someone who’ll only want vanilla.
But I couldn’t have mistaken her tastes.
Annika has an inner submissive that peeks out now and again, especially when she’s not paying attention.
“Part of my devil’s taste is that I can only feel pleasure if I inflict pain.”
“Don’t I know it.” She shakes her head in mock reaction. “I’m still sore from yesterday’s stupid punishment.”
“Look at me.”
“One sec.”
I reach out, grab her phone, and fling it from her hold. “When I say to look at me, you look at me.”
She swallows thickly and a red hue creeps up her cheeks. I want to lick that blush, gnaw at it, grind it between my teeth.
I lift her chin with my index and middle fingers so that I’m the center of her attention. “If you think this is a temporary game or experimenting, then you have no fucking clue what you’re dealing with, little purple. I’ll eat your life up for breakfast and leave no leftovers for anyone to pick at. When I order you to do something, you don’t question it, you don’t give me attitude, and you certainly don’t be a brat about it. Is that clear?”
Her lips tremble before she purses them together.
“Where’s your answer?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about in a ‘yes, I understand’ reply.”
“Nope, I’m not going to agree with everything you say. That’s not how relationships work. There’s give and take and all that stuff. You can google it.”
“Annika.”
She beams even as the tremble remains. “What, Creighton?”
“You’re pushing it.”
“And you’re being oppressive. I’m cool with your dominance in sex, and even with the pain, because it brings pleasure, too, but you’re simply not going to dictate my life or make me live it according to your rules. That’s like Papa and Jeremy 2.0 and I’m not a fan.”
I release her jaw and push back. “That’s one.”
“You can’t possibly be serious?”
“Two.”
“Oh, come on. I can’t express my opinion?”
“Not when you’re defying me, no. Three.”
“Stop counting, damn you.”
“Not if you don’t stop talking. Four.”
“You—”
“Five.”
She opens her lips to say something but promptly seals them shut and glares at me with her arms crossed over her chest.
Seems that I found the perfect method to make her keep her mouth shut.
I finish my meal in silence while she stabs her salad over and over yet barely eats anything. I suppress a smile.
Only Annika would try to make noise, even if solely through her actions.
She opens her mouth a few times, then upon remembering that she’ll add to her punishments, she seals it shut and groans softly.
I watch her struggle for a few minutes, loving the sight a bit too much, before I finally speak, “You have something to say?”
“I hate you right now.”
My jaw clenches. “Six. Next time, think before you speak.”
“I still hate you. I can’t believe I sacrificed my freedom for you last week.”
“Seven.” I tilt my head. “And what do you mean, you sacrificed your freedom?”
“Did you really think Kill, Niko, and Gaz let you leave out of the goodness of their hearts?”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t use nicknames. They have names.”
“Oh, please. Besides, that’s not the point. It’s that they thought you burned the mansion, and you were the most likely candidate, too, considering your closeness with the Elites, so to deflect the blame, I told them you were with me all night long. Naturally, Jeremy found out and put me on house and campus arrest.”
I place the utensils and the container on the ground. When I woke up back at the Elites’ mansion, Remi was being hyper, calling me his favorite spawn and asking me not to worry him anymore.
He also said that they got a call from the Heathens to come fetch me, so I thought Nikolai realized he’d made a mistake by knocking me out and they decided to let me go. Never would I have believed that Annika had something to do with it. The good girl Annika. The ‘conflict is evil’ Annika.
No shit, I actually heard her tell Ava that exact sentence once. Conflict is evil and should be avoided at all costs.
I thought Jeremy tightened the security around her and stopped her from coming to REU’s dorm due to worrying about her safety.
Turns out, he was specifically keeping her away from me.
“Why are you only telling me this now?”
She throws a hand in the air. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“It is. Didn’t I warn you against putting yourself in danger? I could’ve dealt with your brother.”
“And when would you have done that? Before or after the Heathens beat you to a pulp?”
“Doesn’t matter. I mean it, Annika. Stop sacrificing yourself for others. No one is worth it, me included.”
“I get to decide that, not you.”
“Annika,” I warn.
“Eight? Whatever.”
“Make it a nine.”
She releases a frustrated breath, but she eyes me with that innocence again. “Did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Burn the mansion?”
“You think I did?”
“I don’t know what to think. You have a history of arson at the Heathens’ compound. Why did you do that, by the way?”
“Nothing you need to know about.”
“Then how about showing up in my room? I think I have the right to know why you showed up there of all places.”
“I was trying to find an escape.” And I could’ve used any balcony, but I subconsciously jumped into hers.
It was easier to spot considering the purple cushions and girly Plushies in the patio.
Back then, I wasn’t sure why I made that snap decision to get into her balcony, but now I do.
Even when I thought I had absolutely no interest in Annika Volkov and her annoying, chattering presence, I still looked for her when she wasn’t around. I never voiced it aloud, but I noticed when she wasn’t there.
Despite myself.
Back then, she didn’t come to the girls’ apartment for three days and was confined to her brother’s mansion.
And a part of me wanted to see her.
Her shoulders drop at my answer, but she says, “Is that what the second fire was all about? You couldn’t finish the job with the annex so you decided to widen your scope?”
“And risk your life in the process?”
“Small sacrifices for the greater good, right?” Her whole body goes rigid and her fingers tremble. She doesn’t want to believe her words even as she says them.
“If that’s what you think, we’re done here.” I get up.
Annika jumps up with me and grabs my arm. “Is it true?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. Do you believe I would hurt you, then save you and your brother?”
She remains silent.
“Do you fucking believe that, Annika?”
“No,” she lets out in a small murmur. “But I want to hear it from you.”
“I would never hurt you.”
A long breath rushes out of her, and the light slowly returns to her eyes. She smiles a little and stands in front of me, close enough that I’m dwarfing her. “Outside of sex, you mean.”
“Outside of sex, brat.”
“What if it gets to be too much and I really can’t take it anymore? What do I do then?”
“Pick a word and say it. I’ll stop.”
“Ohh, like a safe word?”
More like a break from my darkness. But I nod. “Yeah, a safe word. What do you want it to be?”
“Violet,” she says without thinking. “I don’t like it as a color. It’s less superior than purple.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you’re starting to get to know me. Congrats on becoming a VIP.”
I flick her across the forehead teasingly, not hard enough to hurt.
She slaps a palm on the assaulted skin. “What was that for?”
“For your smart little mouth.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment—oh no!” She stares up at the sky as it opens and rain pours out. “My hair. Come on, England. Damn it.”
She runs to the door that leads downstairs with her hands covering her head.
Upon finding refuge in the doorway, she looks behind her to find me standing where she left me.
I’m staring up at the sky, letting the rain soak me in seconds. I close my eyes and allow it to wash over me.
I’ve always loved the rain.
It rained when I woke up in the hospital that day and the day I met Mum and Dad for the first time. In a way, rain rinses away everything.
Including a bloody past.
It gave me a new beginning, even if only temporarily.
“Creighton, what are you doing?”
“Feeling the rain.”
“But you’re all wet!”
My lips tilt in a smirk. “Is that comment supposed to be about me or you? Last I checked, your cunt was all wet after I punished it.”
“You…damn sadistic pervert.”
“And that’s ten.” I open my eyes, cock my head in her direction, and extend my hand. “Come here.”
“If you think I’m stepping out in the middle of that rain, you’re crazy.”
“Isn’t craziness normal in this crazy world?”
“Nuh-uh. I spent two hours fixing my hair to look this gorgeous.”
“If you keep hiding from the rain, you’ll miss out.”
“I’d rather miss out than ruin my hair and clothes. Even all the food is destroyed.”
I lift my shoulder and close my eyes again.
Annika’s probably flying downstairs to dry her hair. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a change of clothes lying around somewhere. She’s always prepared for these types of situations.
Always strives to look her best, as if anything less is a direct insult to her personality.
Slow classical music fills the air before a small hand slips into mine and the scent of soft violet fills my nostrils. “If I’m going to ruin my hair, you better dance with me.”
I open my eyes and stare down at her petite face that’s all soaked. Droplets of water slip across her cheeks and to her neck. Her white top has become transparent, molding against her strapless bra and revealing a hint of her round, perky tits.
I make a mental note to give her my hoodie before we go down so that no one gets to see her like this.
“I don’t dance,” I tell her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.” She places her hand on my shoulder and plants mine on her waist, then starts to move slowly to the rhythm of the music.
She feels so small and right in my arms.
The need to feast on her, devour her, eat her the fuck up pulses inside me like an urge.
On.
And on.
And fucking on.
She must see the animalistic need on my face, because her lips part. The air constricts, shifting with unbearable tension that’s been growing ever since I spanked her and she came from it.
Not only did she not mind the pain, but she was also turned on by it.
I wonder how far I can push her before eventually finding her limits.
I wonder if I’ll stop at such limits.
“Now you make me spin,” she whispers, her voice sounding too loud in the silence. Then she uses my hand to twirl her body with the grace of a feather.
I’m trapped by her elegance and how right she feels in my arms, how I want to keep her pressed up against me, so I pull her back and she crashes against my chest.
The moment she gasps, I lower my head and capture her lips with mine. Annika goes slack against me, her mouth slightly open, probably due to shock, and I use the chance to thrust my tongue inside.
I feast on her as if I’ve been starving for a taste, a sip.
A kiss.
My lips pressing into hers, my tongue confiscating hers, licking, sucking, biting and biting and biting.
She whimpers, her hands going limp on my shoulders, and that might as well be an invitation to eat her alive.
I kiss her like I’ve never kissed before, because I have never kissed before, never considered the act of any value—not until this wrecking ball bulldozed through my life.
My lips feast on hers with the energy of an unsatiated beast until she’s gasping, until her body molds against mine. Until I can no longer decipher where she starts and I end.
The rain beats down on us like a witness of this moment.
The moment I decide that Annika Volkov won’t be able to escape me.
Not even if she wants to.
