And all at once a heart-stopping terror grips me—as Miko’s face becomes Pyotr’s.
The sickening sneer of my dead husband takes the place of Miko’s devilish grin, Pyotr’s bloodshot eyes burning into me like a demon’s.
Suddenly, I’m reliving one of the worst moments of my life—the first time Pyotr came home drunk and dead set on putting a baby inside me.
My body goes as stiff as a board as Pyotr holds me down and shoves deep inside me, his unfocused gaze merciless.
Fear and pain tear through me as he takes what he wants without asking.
His greedy desire is brutal and unrelenting as he grips my wrists with bruising force, crushing them beneath his considerable weight.
The horror that freezes me threatens to choke the very life from my lungs. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.
I’ve been plunged back into the cold, unforgiving reality of a marriage that will only end when Pyotr has wrung every ounce of joy from me—when he decides it’s time I join his first two wives in death so he can pick a fresh new bride.
“No, n-no!” I scream, thrashing beneath him as ice-cold panic rushes through my veins. “Get off of me, you sick bastard! Get off!”
Surprise registers in the back of my mind when, instead of laughing at me, Pyotr does as I say.
He freezes, seeming momentarily stunned, then releases my wrists, rocking back and pulling abruptly out of me in one dexterous motion.
Agonizing tremors rack my body as the world spins dangerously around me, past and present overlapping in a nauseating jumble of visuals.
Then my eyes lock on the penetrating blue gaze of the predator watching me, his body coiled, ready to pounce.
25
MIKO
Anika went from sensual and excited to stiff as a board so fast, it made my head spin. My gut clenches to see the wild fear in her round blue eyes.
She looks terrified.
Frozen in place as I crouch at the foot of the bed, I don’t dare move or even breathe as I watch her, trying to make sense of what just happened. It’s not hard to guess. I got carried away.
Ihurt her.
My stomach roils with self-revulsion, but I shove the feeling to the back of my mind because I have more pressing matters to think about. Like what the hell I can do to fix what I’ve done.
“Anika,” I say, my voice rasping past the knot in my throat.
Her wide eyes lock on me, seeming to fully register my presence. Then, without a word, she bolts.
Damn it.
She’s way too fast to be the kind of flight risk she’s proving to be. And as she scrambles off the bed, making it to the door in a matter of seconds, she’s not wearing a stitch of clothing.
Kicking myself for being so careless, I snatch the nearest piece of clothing I can find, hauling my jeans back over my hips without underwear.
I snag the robe she left draped across the back of a chair as I race after her, reaching the door several seconds behind her.
Thankfully, I’m more familiar with her escape route now, and I don’t pause to watch where she’s going as I sprint, throwing myself around the corner and down the stairs just as she reaches the bottom landing.
“Stop!” I bark.
Anika flinches, stumbling as if her feet intend to obey. But then she’s up and running again, her mind overruling her natural instinct to do as I say. The delay is all I need, though, and I catch up just as she reaches the front door.
Using her robe as both a cover and a net, I trap her inside the thick terry cloth. Not that I think it’s going to help disarm her flight instinct—but I don’t know how else to stop her. And after last time, I know better than to leave her arms loose to use as weapons.
