Viktor reclined in darkness, smoke wreathing and curling with his cigarette, shirt left open, the scratches on his body still raw, inflamed and fresh. The bed reeked of the smell of her — sin and wildflowers, flowers — and it kept him on edge, restless, made him weak from inside. Too hot to handle.
This was not supposed to happen.
He was Viktor Mikhailov — a man who had shattered women like glass and inscribed obedience into their bones so that they had forgotten they ever possessed a will of their own. Love was something to be mocked. Love was a joke to him, Lust was a weapon. And women were things. Soft things.
Things to be discarded.
Things to be disposed of.
But Lila.
She was different.
She was strong.
She should have trembled. She should have pleaded. She should have begged. She smiled in pain instead, not giving a word of pain to him.
She bled and she was laughing, her dainty and delicate fingers wrapped around his darkness as if she had always known the way to tame it.
To tame him.
To control Victor.
Viktor sat up straight, his heart pounding in his ears. His hands trembled — not in fear, not with rage — but with hunger. For her.
For more.
And the more Viktor make her wet, the more he satisfies the greed of hunger.
What the fuck had she done to him?
Why does Viktor sound vulnerable?
Down the corridor, the wives stirred and were awake. He heard Tatiana walking back and forth across the marble floor, the clicking of her heels, the sound of shots being fired. Sofia's words were laced with venom.
With Vengeance!
"She's a whore, Viktor," Sofia had hissed many hours before. "A nothing you picked up off the streets. You imagine she's this innocent flower?
She's stringing you along."
He did know.
He had to know.
But knowledge failed to quiet the pain in his chest whenever he thought of the way she smiled through her tears. The way she pushed him — tested him — tempted him in ways no other woman had ever even attempted.
Lila had no desire for his wealth.
She had no desire for his kingdom.
She had no greed.
She wished to spoil him — and he wished to allow her.
He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and stood, pacing the halls like an animal stalking its prey. His body was still sore from their last encounter, a sweet bruise that reminded him she was not as fragile as he had thought.
He discovered her in his study, huddled on his leather chair in nothing but his shirt. Her legs glowed in the dim light, her hair in disarray from his fingers. She was sipping his whiskey, slow and measured, her lips encasing the glass like a provocation.
She did not turn to look at him. She was aware he was present. She felt him — as prey always senses the hunter.
But she was no longer prey.
"Can't sleep?" She stirred the whiskey softly. "Or do you fear if you close your eyes, you'll dream of me?" Think of me.
Wet me with your deepest desires.
Viktor's jaw clenched. "You think that you've won something," he growled in a low and menacing voice.
Lila smiled wickedly, raising the glass back to her lips.
"I'm in you, I believe. And there's no way to get me out."
You want me in. I am totally in you.
You have rubbed through my legs and now you fear that you will go wet early!
He took three strides across the room, grabbing the glass from her hand and tossing it away. It hit the floor with a splintering crash, amber liquid contaminating the wood like blood that had fallen.
"I can kill you right this minute," he snarled, his hand curling into her hair and jerking her back until her throat was open to him.
"One snap and you're nothing."
You are another bitch women that I am in with!
"Then do it."
She spoke in a whisper, a challenge. "Kill me, Viktor. Prove to me that you own me."
His grip constricted tighter, but his hands trembled once again. He couldn't do it. Not because he lacked the nerve — he'd killed women over less.
But her?
She was different! The desire for being with Lila was different from every woman he have used!
She had managed to get in his skin, under his ribs, wrapped herself around his fucking bones.
Lila's smile softened, her hand traveling up his chest, spreading her fingers along the scars as if they were hers.
"You don't know what to do with me, do you?" she whispered. "You thought you were the monster. But what if I'm the one who is poisoned?"
He pushed her back into the chair, patrolling the room like an animal in a cage.
"You really do think it's a game?" His growl was harsh and coarse. "This isn't some sick fairy story, Lila. This is my life. People such as you get consumed whole."
"Swallow me, then," she murmured. "Do you fear that you will choke?"
Viktor spun so quickly the air between them crackled. He was on the other side of the room one moment, on top of her the next, hands planted on either side of the chair, imprisoning her below him.
He breathed hot against her skin, his eyes blazing with hunger and rage.
"You are going to break," he whispered against her ear, mouth brushing against it.
"I plan on it." I plan on getting fucked by you Viktor!
Give me everything you have!
"No." Her hands crept down his chest, fingers wrapping around the belt, tugging him in. "We will break one another."
His lips slammed into hers, savage and possessive, yet this time — this time — she met him with an equal ferocity. Teeth and tongue and greed — all ravaged one another like starving beasts fighting over a piece of meat. His fingers ripped open the shirt she wore, tearing it away from her body to expose her to the frigid air.
He was not gentle. Neither was she.
It was a war, one threatening to be won in bruises and kisses, in mumbled curses and shattered breaths. And somehow in the midst of the pain and the pleasure, in the terror and the desire, something else grew — something Viktor had no words to define.
He no longer wished to own her.
He yearned to get lost in her.
Go give her so hard that her eyes will pop out.
Legs will perish! Penetrated her Vigina with his d**k so hard that she will bleed.
They huddled in the chair, slick with sweat and gasping for breath, her nails still driven into his back, and his fingers still wrapped in her hair. She touched her lips against the angle of his jawline so softly it was almost imperceptible.
"Still think I'm just a girl,"
She whispered.
Viktor hadn't responded
For the first time in his life, he was afraid.
Not of losing control.
But of the chance that he never wished to take it back.