It will never happen again.
I clench my fists so hard they shake.
From this moment on, she won’t take a single breath without protection. If she doesn’t like it? Too damn bad. She will learn.
My hand trembles as I reach for her face, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. She doesn’t stir, but I do. Inside, I’m an inferno.
Thoughts of what that padonok could’ve done to her tear through my mind like shrapnel. He drugged her, and that alone will cost him his life.
For now, he rots in the cellar, chained like the animal he is. Until I decide it’s time to play. And when I do, he will beg for death long before I grant him the mercy.
I don’t know how long I sit here—minutes? hours?—before she stirs. A low groan breaks from her lips as her fingers curl around the edge of the sheet like she’s trying to hold on to something solid.
“Aleksei? Where am I?” she whispers, eyes barely open.
“Shh. It’s early. Go back to sleep.” I can’t help cupping her cheek. “You’re safe.”
The words sound strange coming from me. Too gentle. Too soft.
She flinches slightly, like she’s caught between sleep and some lingering nightmare. Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. My thumb grazes the sharp line of her cheekbone. Her skin is warm, sweat slicking her hair to her temples.
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and the sight of it does something unspeakable to me. To see her like this, so still,so stripped bare by fear and whatever hell she lived through tonight…it carves into me with a blade I didn’t see coming.
I could lie to myself. Pretend I’m unaffected. Tell myself I’m here because she belongs to me now. That I was only protecting my property, and anyone who lays a finger on her answers to me.
But that wouldn’t explain why I haven’t left her side. Why I have stayed awake since the moment I brought her here. Why I’mstillhere.
I try to convince myself it’s duty. That I’m doing what any man in my position would.
She’s going to be my wife. Her safety is my burden now. Her pain, my problem to handle. Any harm that comes to her is an insult to me.
That’s the truth I cling to, the story I feed myself. But it feels hollow.
Because as I dip the cloth into the bowl of cool water beside the bed and press it gently to her forehead, something cracks wide open inside me.
Deep down, I know this is more than obligation. And I hate it.
She groans, her eyes still filled with exhaustion as she shuts them, and I drop the cloth back into another bowl. Easing down beside her, I let my weight sink into the mattress as carefully as I can. For a second, I think about staying upright, keeping a distance. But then she makes this sound—a tiny, broken whimper—and I can’t stay away.
So I do what I swore I never would. I slip beneath the covers and pull her against my chest.
She melts into me like her body knows mine. Like some primitive part of her accepts me. Her cheek finds its place above my heart, her breath hot and damp through my shirt. It’s strange, this feeling of holding her, of giving comfort, of her giving comfort to me. I wrap one arm around her waist and bury my face in her hair, breathing her in.
Lavender. Sweat. Intoxication. Fiona.
My grip tightens as she falls back asleep.
“I will kill him,” I whisper, almost to myself. “And I’ll make it slow.”
My lips press to the top of her head, my eyes shutting.
This is wrong. I shouldn’t be here. Should’ve handed her off to someone else the second I made sure she was safe. But I couldn’t. And I don’t know what the hell that says about me.
She shifts again and mumbles something into my chest. My name, I think. Or maybe just a sound. But it’s enough.
“I’ve got you, moya ptichka,” I breathe. “I’ll always have you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
