Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Good girl.”
I clear my throat and take the pen into my own hand, signing my space on the paper. When it’s all said and done, the officiant pronounces us husband and wife.
Alexei and Talia Nikolaev.
Franco and Magda watch as I slip the black gold wedding band onto my finger and then repeat the action on hers. Her band is also black gold, featuring a large ruby and a selection of black diamonds on the side. I could not imagine my wife wearing a simple ring like so many others. I could not imagine Talia blending in when she was born to be noticed.
She is beautiful, this wife of mine. With her dove gray eyes and pale skin. She will be the one every other Vor notices at parties. The woman that every other Vor covets. But she is mine now.
Still, it will not be official for me until she bears a permanent claim on her hand. One that she can never remove and nobody can ever question. I am anxious to mark her, but first, we must have at least several photos. Viktor will undoubtedly want them. As will anybody else who questions the legitimacy of my marriage.
My Vory brothers will want her. Even at the risk of death, they will want her. It is up to me to let them know that she is mine. That no secrets will live between us, and that she will never betray me. Even if I cannot believe it myself, they must believe it. Talia must believe it too. That death is the only result of such an action.
I have been weak once. But I cannot ever show that same weakness again.
So I request Franco to take exactly ten photos of us. Which he does. The ten photos which I have already strategically allocated places for around my home. Places that all of the other Vory will see them when they visit. The reminder that if they touch her, they will die.
Talia poses with me without any fight. There is no smile on her face, and no emotion either. But when I tilt her chin up to look at me, she does not turn away. I hold her in my arms and then kiss her cheek. Even after the last flash has gone off, we cannot bring ourselves to look away.
I ask the others to leave, and they do. And then it’s just Talia and I, facing each other. My gaze moves to her lips, and my own mouth is telling lies before I can even question it.
“It is bad luck not to kiss your bride.”
“I don’t like to kiss,” she replies.
But she doesn’t move away, even when I lean into her space, feathering my fingers over her jaw. My breath fans across her lips, and she shivers.
“You will kiss your husband,” I tell her.
And then my lips are on hers. At first, it is cold. There is nothing from her. But when I tangle my hand in her hair and demand more, she gives it. Her hand clutches at my shirt and she parts her lips for me. Allowing me in. I take from her, for far too long. Until she can barely hold herself upright. And when I pull away, I regret doing it at all. Because I want more.
Her eyes move over my face, seeking out answers that I don’t have. I need to tell her my secret. She needs to be aware. It’s on my tongue, but I can’t force the words out. I don’t want her to know that part of me just yet. I don’t want her to think me weak when she needs my strength. When I promised to protect her, there needs to be no doubt in her mind that I am able.
So instead, I remove the tattoo kit from my drawer and set it on my desk while she watches.
“You would like some pain?” I ask her.
She nods.
Again my fingers move over her face, hard against her silky skin. “Then I will give it to you.”
She sits through the process of the tattoo on her hand without so much as a twitch. This girl is accustomed to pain. She likes the pain. It is probably the only thing that feels good to her anymore.
I enjoy giving it to her this way. Marking her as my own. Seeing my star and my name carved into her flesh stirs a sense of pride in me when I wipe away the last of the blood and bandage it.
“Now, everyone will know that you are the wife of a Vor,” I tell her. “And if they touch you, they will die.”
She does not question it. She just watches me, quietly. Thoughtfully. Waiting to see what I will do next. So pliable.
“This star you wear has meaning in our world, Solnyshko. You do not yet trust me. You may never trust me. But that star gives you power. Protection. And so I want you to do something for me.”