Nikolai snorts.
“Stop calling him the nurse,” I call after him. “He has a name. Jonah.”
I feel Jonah’s fingers dig into my skin as he registers the brand I’ve just put on him. I’m not just protecting him because I’m making it clear to the only men I have left that he is off-limits. I don't want the rest of the world when I can have the one who watched me bleed and didn't look away.
In our world, a name is a claim of ownership and I am making sure everyone knows he belongs to me from now on, whether he likes it or not.
“Yes, big brother. I hear you.” He moves to the door. Nikolai opens it for him. Lev looks back one more time. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he says. “I’m glad you’re here to yell at me for it.”
“If you keep standing in the doorway, I’ll start yelling now.”
He huffs out something that's almost a laugh, closing the door behind them.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
JONAH
Viktor’s house is massive.I didn't take it in when we arrived because everything happened too fast. From the inside, it feels old. It has high ceilings and heavy moldings. Stairs branch into different wings. Too many doors. Most of them are locked.
I left Viktor asleep upstairs because I felt restless. Now I walk the corridors without a destination. My steps are quiet against the floors. He’s safe. That should mean my part in this is done. I should feel relieved, but my chest feels hollow. I’m thinking about the hospital, the trailer, the life that probably already moved on without me. Someone else is likely sleeping in my bed. Everything I owned fit inside that metal box, and now it’s gone.
My bare feet sink into the thick carpet when I reach the first floor. I pass a closed door, then another one left slightly ajar. I slow down. I shouldn't be opening doors that aren't mine. The last time I let curiosity win, I was traded like a piece of livestock to settle my father’s debt.
It feels both recent and impossibly far away since the Morozovs locked us in together. Everything has changed. I have changed.
I push the door a fraction wider and blink at what is inside. An instrument sits by the window. Dark wood catches what light there is. For a second, the pull of the piano overrides my hesitation. I take a step in, then stop short. There’s a guard in the corner. He doesn't move, but he tips his gaze toward me and watches. He looks like he’s been told not to interfere unless I do something wrong.
“What is this place?”
“The Winter Room.” His accent is thick. He doesn't move an inch.
“What’s in here?”
“Nothing for your eyes,” a voice growls from the hallway.
I turn. Viktor stands in the doorway, barefoot, with sweatpants riding low on his hips. His hair is a mess. A faint crease from the pillow still marks his cheek. The stitches at his ribs pull when he breathes. He doesn't bother hiding the pain.
“I couldn't sleep.”
His eyes move past me, taking in the room, the wood, the guard. He steps inside and the guard straightens immediately. Viktor doesn't look at him; he just gives a small nod. The guard leaves without a word. The door closes behind him with a soft click.
“Come on, wanderer. Come back to bed.”
I shrug, but my cock perks up at the proposition. My body is already answering him before I can think of a protest. “Didn't mean to steal anything.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. He takes my hand. His is larger than mine, cupping my fingers entirely with ease. Together we head back to his bedroom. “I’d have caught you.” His thumb tightens around my fingers.
“Yeah?”
With a sudden push, Viktor throws me back onto the bed. I laugh as I roll onto my back and watch him hover over me.“What would you steal, krasavchik? Hm?” He grabs the edges of my shirt and tears the material. I laugh harder, trying to wiggle out of his hold, but he’s too strong. He’s a mountain of heat and muscle pinning me down. My heart is thundering, not from fear, but from the realization that I want him to keep me here.
“I—don't know…”
“Not good enough.” He rolls down my pants. He lets out a hum when he sees my throbbing cock. It’s leaking already, twitching for him. I’ve never been this responsive, this desperate. It’s like he’s rewritten my nerves. “Tell me what you’d steal from me. Give me a reason to come after you.” He lowers his mouth. He traces his tongue over a nipple, sucking it in before giving it a bite.
My hips jerk as I scramble for an answer. “Um—money.”
