This is my fifth wedding, but it’s my first wedding night.
Aleksandr must know more than me about what we’re supposed to do, how the mechanics of all this works. A bed is involved, obviously. And we’re naked. I’ve never seen a man naked before.
I feel a rush of anticipation. The heat that I felt when he kissed me flares in my chest again.
This is one of the good parts of marriage that my mother always refers to… Not that she’s ever explained how it works, exactly. What I do know, I’ve gathered from books.
The door clicks shut behind him.
This is it.
My head starts to spin with all that’s about to happen.
I look around at the room, relieved to see some color, even if it is only from my own clothing. Aleksandr’s men delivered them earlier today.
I walk over to a bag and start pulling out clothes, trying to distract myself from Aleksandr’s presence with thefamiliar fabrics.Still, it’s hard to ignore his looming presence.
He clears his throat, a low rough sound that makes my heart race. I can feel that he’s trying to get my attention but I don’t think I’m ready to look at him.
I run my hand over the black velvet comforter on the bed. The bed is certainly big enough for two people, much wider than my single bed at home. But Aleksandr is huge.
I don’t know a whole lot about what happens on a wedding night, but I know it’s a big deal.
When I finally look at him, his expression gives nothing away. There’s a slight frown in the center of his dark brow as he looks around the half-unpacked room like he doesn’t approve of my clothing choices.
There’s something unforgiving about the lines of his face, just like the overwhelming size of him. When he frowns, his eyes are unreadable.
Brooding.
That’s how he looks right now, like there are thoughts swirling through his head that he’ll never share with anyone else.
When he slides his gaze back to me, it’s like he’s surprised to see me. I meet his eyes for only a second before I drop my eyes back to the comforter.
A jolt of shock runs through me.
This is the man who killed my brothers. He’s dangerous. My parents couldn’t protect me from him, so I have to protect myself.
The deep midnight blue of his gaze is right on the edgebetween blue and black. Appropriately dark, given the death that he has caused.
I stroke the soft velvet of the comforter repeatedly, unable to look at him again. I focus on the paintings I was cataloging earlier today, running through the details to try and calm my racing heart.
I don’t want to anger him by showing my fear.Delaying the inevitable will only make it worse. Someone needs to defuse the heavy tension in this room.
I take a deep breath and say it, forcing myself to lift my chin and look at him, even if I’m focusing on his forehead instead of meeting his eyes.
“It’s okay. You can… You can touch me.”
His frown deepens.
I’d expected Aleksandr to pounce on me.
Instead, there’s a long pause. I feel awkward in the silence, like I’ve said something wrong. Is this not what happens on a wedding night? I twist my hands in the comforter.
“Touch you?” My face burns at the hint of dry amusement in his voice, like I’ve made a ridiculous suggestion. “What makes you assume that I want to touch you, Natalia?”
“I thought?—”
Maybe I’ve read this all wrong. I’d thought, before our wedding, that he was…flirting with me. Or teasing me, at least.
