And I need her.
It’s this gnawing ache in my chest every time Nikolai comes near her. Every time I hear him calling her ‘malyshka.’ I hate it. I hate that she doesn’t flinch anymore when he touches her. I hate that I’m chained here, useless, while he can walk her out of the cage whenever he feels like it.
Sometimes, when I’m staring at her, I wonder if she knows what she’s doing to me. She plays people like cards—it’s her way of surviving, and she’s good at it. Too good. She’s done it with Nikolai. She’s done it with the guards. Hell, maybe she’s doing itwith me too. Maybe she’s feeding me scraps of affection just to keep me on her side.
But then she’ll look at me, and I think—no, I feel—it’s real.
The problem is, I don’t know which version of her to believe. The manipulator who could sell her soul with a smile? Or the girl who whispered she would help me and told me she cares about me?
Either way, I’m screwed. Whether she’s playing me or not, I don’t want to lose her.
And if Nikolai takes her from me, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I don’t know when I became this desperate, but I know that I can’t stand the space between us anymore.
“Aurelia,” I whisper, breaking against the quiet. “Kiss me.”
She looks at me like she’s about to laugh, maybe she thinks I’m joking. But I’m not. I need her—need to know that she is mine.
“Please,” I add, and I hate the way the word sounds, weak and begging, but I don’t take it back.
For a moment, she just stares at me, those sharp blue eyes searching my face, testing whether I’m serious. Then, finally, she leans in, her lips pressing against mine.
It’s not soft, not hesitant. I think she’s been holding back just as much as I have, and once we break, we can’t stop. My chains rattle as I shift closer, and hers drag against the floor until we’re pressed together—mouths desperate, hands greedy.
I don’t even know how it happens, but we realize we’ve got more slack in our restraints than we thought. Enough to pull her into my lap, enough to feel her thighs lock around me as I trail my mouth down her neck. She tastes like citrus, and it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever known.
“Adrian,” she whispers.
“Say you want this,” I breathe against her ear, needing to hear it.
“I want this.”
That’s all it takes. My hands find her hips, sliding under the oversized sweats Nikolai shoved her into.
My hands grip her thighs, my nails digging in, and she thrusts her body up—almost as if she ignites under the sting of pain. I use that as my cue, letting my hand find her bare skin and pressing my finger to her clit. She lets a quiet moan escape into my mouth, kissing me deeper, sweeter.
I grow hard and she responds by rubbing my length through my jeans.
She needs me. Just as much as I need her. I thrust both my fingers inside her without warning, and she inhales a deep breath, adjusting to my movements.
“You are amazing,” I whisper into her mouth.
She grinds into my hand with impatient little rocks. I move my thumb back to her clit, still fucking her with my fingers. Her lips part, and with our tongues tangled in constant connection, I reach for my zipper, my cock already aching for her.
Her lips are still on mine when the door groans open.
The chains rattle as we jerk apart, and my heart lurches in my chest when I make out his figure in the darkness.
Nikolai.
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t shout. Doesn’t stutter.
He just walks toward us with slow, calculated purpose.
The click of his shoes on the concrete is louder than my pulse hammering in my ears.
Aurelia shifts closer to me like she can shield me with her body. I almost believe she can.
