Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
One of his eyebrows raises. “You already knew that. Why be upset at the proof of it now?”
I sigh, rolling a bit to avoid pain in my neck at the angle. “It hurts me every time he does something heartless. I’m ashamed of him, of my family, and what that means for me. How long until I’m just as heartless?”
He settles on his ass and gentles his grip on my chin. “You could never be heartless, Malyshka.”
“His blood is in my veins. He’s a part of me. How could I not one day turn on those I love.”
Again, he shifts to lie on his side along my body. “We aren’t our parents. Their sins do not become ours.”
I stare up at his face as he braces on his hand, looking down at me. “But some sins are too big, too horrible. Someone has to take the fallout.”
He relaxes, so his head hits the pillow only inches from my face. “No. They don’t. You don’t have to take the blame for the horrible things he’s done. You don’t need to take the anger, pain, or any of the suffering he’s caused on yourself. Not when you’re one of his victims, the same as many others.”
But that’s not all that’s bothering me. No. It’s much worse than how horrible my father is. He sees through me in an instant.
“What else? What aren’t you telling me?”
I swallow hard, the sound loud between us. “I…” I can’t bring myself to say it, to get the words out when I don’t want to know the answer.
“Don’t make me pull it out of you.” His voice is hard, but it doesn’t scare me. It starts a slow warm tingle from my core up into my chest. My nipples go hard at the idea of him forcing me to tell him what I’m hiding, of him caring enough to make me reveal my secrets, bare myself to him completely.
As much as I want to see what he means, I swallow and shake my head. “It’s just…I wonder how long I have until my name means my death, along with the rest of my family.”
I thought he was angry when he walked in. But that was nothing compared to the black scowl that rolls across his face now.
He grabs my chin and tilts my face to a painful angle, forcing my eyes to follow him. “Now…” His voice is white-hot anger, so potent I can almost feel it in his hands. “The only way your name will get you killed is if someone is coming for me. You have MY name! You belong to ME! Not him. Say it.”
I’m shaking now, even though I’m covered in the blanket. Not out of fear. My body is a live wire attuned to his anger, his needs, and his desires. All I feel is the urge to sate his anger, to throw myself at his feet and see what his mercy looks like when it marks my skin.
I gulp again. “I belong to you.”
Even as I say it, some small part of my mind rebels at the thought. Why? Why do I always have to belong to someone else? I belonged to my father and now to Ivan. When do I get to belong to me?
“I can see you overthinking the question, Priscilla.” He forces the words out in a snap. “If you want to push me tonight, I’ll let you, and then you might regret it later.”
If I know one thing, it’s that I could never regret anything we do together. If he touches me angry, or horny, or in fear…never once has he given me something I didn’t want, didn’t need.
If this is what it means to belong to him, maybe it’s not such a bad thing. My fucking heart is too stupid to shield itself. I’ve already known it belongs to him without question. Even if he doesn’t want me in the same way.
Even though he says I have his name and protection, I can’t imagine his friends feeling the same way. That his friends will be fine with a member of their enemy’s family joining their own. They’d never accept me, and that’s something I can’t put him through. I can’t put myself through watching him make the choice between them and me.
I don’t doubt who he’d choose if he were forced to face the truth of our situation.
Something about what I’m feeling must show on my face because he rolls fast so I’m underneath him, and his hands are braced along my chest, holding his weight off the top of my body.
With him over me, staring down at my face, I take a minute to look at him. His face is etched with the battles he’s fought, some scars, but most of all, the hard-as-steel look in his eyes.