I slid off the bed and smoothed Khaos’s hackles down. “It’s okay, buddy. He isn’t going to hurt me.” At least, not physically. When the German shepherd settled a little, I turned to Ronan. “I’ll come if Khaos can sleep here tonight. He likes my bed.” I’d even set up a bowl of water and a plate of pumpkin pie I found in the kitchen.
Ronan wasn’t impressed. “Fine. But shut the door. My brother and his family are still here. And your dog is a nutcase.”
“You’re a nutcase.”
“You were the one involved in a porridge catfight downstairs.”
“She pulled my hair,” I explained simply and shut the door behind me.
His eyes darkened. “That won’t ever happen again. Nobody pulls your hair except me.”
Apparently, Ronan was just going to pretend tomorrow wasn’t happening. The lance of resentment burning through me only reaffirmed my decision to make a break for it and find a hiding place until morning. I couldn’t sleep with Ronan tonight. I couldn’t handle it emotionally, physically—any of the —allys.
He turned toward his room.
I sprinted down the hall in the opposite direction.
A rough exhale. A growled, “Mila.” And then the sound of his expensive boots on my trail. I flew down the stairs, frantically thinking of a good place to hide. In my haste, I barreled into the dining room and came to a full stop when I saw Gianna, Christian, and Kat enjoying a nice family meal.
I panted, chest heaving.
Gianna hid a laugh.
“Uh-oh,” Kat murmured. “Mila is in trouble.”
Ronan grabbed me by the waist and pulled me off my feet. “Make sure you try the vatrushka,” he said nonchalantly. “Polina makes the best.”
Christian gave his brother an indecipherable look before Ronan swung me into his arms and carried me up the stairs. I could fight him, but now his masculine scent surrounded me and confused my senses. His warmth soaked into my skin, forcing the resistance to melt within.
He dropped me on his bed and straddled my hips. “You shouldn’t have heard any of that.”
I knew he was speaking about what Nadia had told me.
I swallowed. “Because I’m too weak to handle it?”
He shackled my wrists above my head. “Because you’re so sweet you fucking glow.” His eyes darkened. “And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take that light from you.”
“Don’t kill Nadia.”
“That’s still open for debate, but right now . . .” His lips ran up my throat. “Ty mne nuzhna.” I need you.
The deep rasp brushed my skin, burned my heart, and made the decision for me. I arched my neck to allow him more access, giving him what he needed even knowing he would be the one to destroy me.
fanaa
(n.) destruction of self for love
Rain dripped down the car window, blurring my view of remote Russia as Albert drove us to our destination. Snow capped the pine trees, outlined the horizon, and covered the ground.
The winter wonderland melted and turned to mud in front of my eyes.
My mind returned to an hour before, when Ronan slipped my arms into a mysterious yellow faux fur coat. I hadn’t said a word as he zipped it up before sliding my feet into a new pair of ankle boots. I hadn’t realized how dirty and worn my others were until then. He rose to his full height, pulled my hair out from beneath my coat, and said, “Poydem.” Let’s go.
Outside, I turned to give the house one last look and saw the menacing stone fortress in a different light. It was where Yulia’s eccentricity dwelled. Where Polina’s shouts and home-cooked meals could be found. Where rumpled black sheets lay undisturbed. Where doors, mirrors, and hearts were broken. And where sparks were made . . .
I turned to head to the car but stilled when Yulia appeared in the open doorway. We never acknowledged she’d taken care of me in the shower yesterday. The moment could have never happened, but I’d always remember it did.
Her permanent severe expression didn’t falter as she shut the door.