The strangest part is the thrill I feel whenever Miko enters my subconscious unexpectedly.
If I didn’t know better, I would almost call it anticipation. But Idoknow better than to want the attention of a man like him—at least, I know that while I’m awake.
In my unconscious state, each time he comes to me, a possessive, carnal desire radiates from him.
But in my dreams, that doesn’t scare me.
Half the time, I reach for him, curious about the man who claimed me as his wife with my husband’s blood still on his hands.
Deep in sleep, I find myself exploring the chiseled lines of his abdomen with my fingers, running my palms over the thick muscles of his chest.
I can smell the motor oil, too, something I recall from the night I ran into him over a year ago.
The memory must have been locked deep in the vault of my mind, emerging only now in my dream manifestation of him.
But it makes my heart race every time.
And more than once, I’ve woken mortified to find my panties wet with excitement.
I know that, when the time comes, the reality of my situation will be a lot less pleasant.
I never enjoyed sex with Pyotr.
More than that, over the year I spent as his wife, I’d come to dread it.
I did what I could to avoid it.
And when I couldn’t, I learned to find a dark corner of my mind to hide away in until he finished. That usually didn’t take long, since he never took the time to make it pleasurable.
The mounting fear in my belly warns me that my role as Miko’s wife will likely play out in much the same fashion.
Men like that don’t care if their women want them.
They use us to satisfy their own desires—and if they can, put a baby in our bellies.
Then they toss us aside until the next time we can be of use.
My stomach knots with the realization that tonight will be my wedding night.
For the second time in my life.
No woman should have to endure that twice, and a shudder races down my spine as I push the memories of my first time down deep inside, burying it so I won’t have to relive it more than once.
I just hope it won’t hurt as badly this time around.
My heart skips a beat at the sound of my door clicking open, and I sit up, hugging the sheets to my chest.
“Still in bed,gospozha?” Chastity asks as she steps into my room with a bright expression. “You’re going to sleep away the day.”
“It can’t be that late, can it?” I ask, finger combing my tangled hair back from my face.
Crossing the room, Chastity throws open the curtains to let in a bright beam of sunlight that tells me it must be nearly midmorning.
“Don’t worry. Everyone seems to be getting a late start today. The Chiaroscuros just came down for breakfast not too long ago. Good thing it’s going to be an evening ceremony.” Hurrying into my closet, Chastity returns a moment later with a deep-green-and-white polka-dot summer dress. “The tailor should be delivering your wedding dress in the next few hours, so I’ll get everything set up while you go eat.”
I don’t know that I have the appetite for breakfast, with my stomach in such knots.
But I’ve made a practice of joining the Chiaroscuro brothers for meals because it’s the only opportunity I have to glean some useful information from them. So I bite back my groan and roll out of bed.
