Chapter 21: Natalia

Today is the first day since I’ve been here when going outside hasn’t helped me cope one way or the other.

I opted for being by myself because I couldn’t even muster my usual energy to get the dog. Part of me felt it was unfair to subject Snow to my sullen mood. I’ve heard dogs pick up on things like that. I thought it was best to stay away since I couldn’t even begin to try to fix myself.

Two things were on my mind right from the moment I opened my eyes.

The first hit me the instant I saw Mikhail. I remembered how ruthlessly he claimed me last night and how I gave myself to him.

I’m not a virgin anymore.

That part of me is gone and I feel different—changed. I feel like my body has changed in a way I can’t quite describe and the light of innocence I carried has disappeared.

He took my virginity, and I feel exactly the way I feared I would. Lost.

Lost in the wind and lost in my emotions. Which is what spurred on the second thing. My nightmare.

I dreamt about my mother’s violent death the same way I used to after it happened. A person doesn’t witness such evil and walk away unscathed. I went through everything from nightmares to severe panic attacks and anxiety because I was sure Raul was going to kill us next.

Time lessened the sting, but the worry didn’t go away.

Now the nightmares are back to haunt me. I’m terrified I’m going to say something in my sleep that’ll give me away.

The difference between years ago and now is that I don’t have my father to take care of me, and I don’t have José, either.

All I have is myself. While I might be able to control my thoughts when I’m awake, what do I do in my sleep?

God knows what I said this morning. I don’t. I only guess it couldn’t have been that damning because Mikhail didn’t look suspicious. He knows Adriana’s mother was killed, but I don’t know what he knows regarding the circumstances of her death. It’s not something Raul would have given full details of. So, I don’t know if the bare minimum I told him damned me today, or it might in the future.

I might damn myself again tonight.

Tonight… My chest tightens when I think of tonight.

Mikhail told me to be ready for him when he got back.

I already know what set off the nightmare is everything happening in my life. And him. Since everything else is a result of him, the real problem is Mikhail.

What the hell am I going to do?

I gaze out at the rippling waters of the lake before me. I’ve been out here since after dinner just biding my time. It was already dark when I came out for one last walk.

Now it’s getting darker. I know I need to head back. Aleksander told me to be inside the house by eight unless I was supervised. As if I’d really try to escape or something.

I make my way back inside the house. The moment I reach the bedroom door, I know Mikhail is inside.

The door is closed, but I sense him, and my body awakens at the prospect of his touch.

I don’t know if I can handle another night like last night. I can’t handle what he does to me yet be nothing but a toy to him. What am I thinking, though?

That I want to mean more to him?

I don’t want that.

I can’t have that.

I dare not think that because it would mean factoring in more on my part, too, and I don’t want to do that.

I don’t want to yearn after a man who’s wrong for me in every sense.

So, I’ll be the toy.

Another toy in his game. Another pawn.

Pulling in a deep breath, I decide to open the door and walk in.

Like last night, cold hits me first, but it’s not the window that’s open this time; it’s the sliding door.

It’s only partially open, but it’s enough to let the cold air in to drop the temperature in the room.

I’m guessing he’s out on the balcony, but I don’t know if I should go out there.

He’s going to know I’m in here. He would have heard me.

Maybe this is part of tonight’s game where I have to guess what he wants me to do with the clues I see. The opened sliding door suggests he wants me to meet him outside, and once again, I have no choice other than to follow his rules.

I keep my coat on and walk out onto the balcony. Then I see him.

He’s smoking again. Smoking the same type of cigar he did last night.

He’s got his shirt sleeves rolled up his thick forearms, and the muscle looks more pronounced with him leaning against the stone railing.

Mikhail continues to gaze ahead at the clear night sky for a few awkward moments before addressing me.

The same way I sensed his presence before I entered the room, I know something’s not right when he looks at me.

He looks like something is on his mind. I have no idea what it could be. I can’t even guess. All I hope for is that it’s not something to do with me.

“Either you need to come inside before it gets dark or get one of the guards to accompany you if you want to stay out later,” he says.

“I thought I could stay out until eight.”

“Rules have changed.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want my wife-to-be wandering around in the dark woods by herself.”

Something has happened. I can definitely feel it now.

“What’s going on? Is something happening?”

He chuckles, dark and cruel.

“You think you get to ask me something like that when you won’t even tell me details of a nightmare?”

“That’s different,” I retort, feeling my stomach twist. I can’t talk about that nightmare for my own sanity even if I were to lie about it; and if I’m to lie and pretend I’m upset over Adriana’s mother’s death, I can’t get that wrong.

“Baby girl, how is that different?”

“It just is. I don’t want to talk about my mother’s death.” That’s true, so I can speak from the heart. I never spoke to anyone about it because those who were close to me saw what happened to her. José wasn’t there, but Papa told him everything. “You hate me and mine. My mother meant everything to me. She had nothing to do with what happened to your family, so I don’t want to talk to you about her just so you can taint her memory, or her.”

He continues to stare at me for a few moments, then takes a long draw of his cigar before he puts it out and sets it down in the ashtray.

My nerves spike when he walks up to me and rests his hand above me on the doorframe. Inching closer, he stops a kiss away and hovers before me with a menacing smile.

“Did I tell you I hated you, Malyshka?” he mutters in a deep baritone.

I narrow my eyes at the question because it’s so weird. So weird I have to wonder if he’s screwing with me.

“I’m not stupid.”

“Then fucking pay attention, princess.” His large hands cup my face with a softness that’s almost creepy because I’m not used to him being gentle.

Whenever his hand goes anywhere near my neck, I always wonder if he’s going to snap it or crush my windpipe. I’m wondering the same now, even with the soft stroke he gives my cheek.

His touch sends a shiver of arousal through me, and I instantly remember how we were last night.

“I am paying attention.”

“No, you aren’t.” He leers at me. “If you were, you’d know that when a man tells you he wants to fuck your brains out, it’s not because he hates you.”

His crass words make my mouth go dry. Heat skitters down my spine, my cheeks flush, and I know I’m blushing.

When he notices my reaction, his eyes gleam with desire. They smolder with it and come alive with seductive fire.

Another stroke along my cheek kicks my heart rate up a notch, and my mouth waters.

This is not good. I shouldn’t react like this. I want to pull away, but I can’t make myself. The part of me that craves him overpowers my ability to think straight, and I can’t move.

“When a man calls you his, it’s not because he hates you, Malyshka.” He runs a finger down the edge of my neck and lingers over my cleavage. “But allow me to show you how much I don’t hate you.”

Paralyzed by the intensity of his words and those eyes, I don’t move when he leans in to kiss me. I receive the kiss like I’m starving for it and he’s giving me an undiluted dose of life.

The kiss sends a rush of pleasure through my body, and the enticement lures me to kiss him back. The moment I give in to the wild call screaming at me to give myself to this man, the first thing I notice is how different we feel. I feel different.

I feel free. No longer unhinged. And that itself is crazy. As our kiss turns hungry, my body bends to his will and prepares itself for his, prepares itself to be his, and I don’t feel the hatred I spoke of. All I feel with each touch and kiss he gives me is desire and need. The need for more and more.