Chapter 17

**Alexi pov**

The hope and fear that mixes in Stephanie’s eyes is both hilarious and angering, she doesn’t trust me, not with her life, and not with her sisters life. But can I blame her? I have done nothing to earn her trust, and she has done nothing to earn mine. We are at a crossroads, and I don’t know which direction to take.

On one side, I could allow her to see Sarah the moment I have her within my reach, or I could keep her in the dark and make her wonder what I have done with her. The second seems more interesting. I wonder how long it would take my little Malyshka to break and ask to see her?

Am I that cruel? Yes. I am. I have done things much worse than this. I have torn families apart and placed the children half way across the country without any contact to their family. But those kids would have been far worse off with their biological parents. Just as I was.

I saved them. I didn’t have to, I could have let them all rot, as the system let me rot. But I didn’t. I built my way up to where I am today so that I could make a fucking difference, and I have. I’ve saved over a hundred children and placed them with loving parents.

But little Stephanie doesn’t believe I will keep Sarah safe, that’s ok, she doesn’t need to believe it for it to be a reality. She will be safe. I’m make damn sure of it.

I sigh, shaking my head, I hate the look in her eyes, it makes me want to strangle to life out of her, “Stop looking at me like that.” I growl.

“Like what?” She asks, her eyes wide with fear.

I stand, rubbing my hands through my hair to calm myself down. “Like I have destroyed your whole fucking world.” I growl, pacing the floor, “I saved you! Can’t you see that? You’d be dead if I didn’t step in.”

She looks down at the floor, “I know, I’m sorry. I should be grateful I’m alive, I know I should.” She says in a soft voice, “but I never cared about my life, I don’t mean anything, it’s Sarah who is important.”

I growl leaning down and slamming my hands into the chair at either side of her head, “you mean something to me!” I shout in her face. “And I want you. Can’t you see that? I fucking burn for you.”

Her eyes grow even wider, a red blush of heat creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks, her lips so close to mine that I can almost taste the cherry lipgloss fading from them. I don’t know where she got it from. But the smell is addictive. I’m going to buy her more, a whole stores worth.

I look down at her lips, and they part as she gasps softly, just mere seconds before I crash my lips into hers, kissing her with so much need that I might crack and crumble under the pressure of it. She’s like a drug, and I want so much fucking more.

I want all she can give, until there is nothing left of her. I want her life, her body, her soul. I want her to crave me the way that I crave her. I want her to burn with lust and passion.

I want all the things that I know she will never give to me.

She breaks the kiss first, panting and staring at me with bright eyes, her hair wild as though she really did burst out of hell just for me. No one can take the fire from below, but I am going to try. If anyone can take this woman, it is going to be me.

She looks down at my lips, and crashing into me with such force it is me who is left gasping for air, and then she bites my bottom lip and shoves her soft tongue in my mouth. She isn’t gentle. And I don’t fucking want her to be. This is what I want.

This is what I need.

I wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze until there is just enough room for her to take small shallow breaths, forcing her head back into the seat as I deepen the kiss, taking over where she began.

She tastes like heaven, but she fights like she is from hell. It’s the perfect mixture of soft versus hard. Gentle versus rough.

I could do this all fucking day long.

She breaks the kiss again, trying her best to take a breath that might actually fill her lungs. But I don’t let her, her eyes bulging as she gets closer and closer to passing out.

“Stop.” She croaks, trying to tear my hand from her neck.

I think about it, I really do. I consider letting go. But I love the way her nails claw at my skin to try and make me stop.

I love the way that fear takes over her mind but her eyes are still filled with lust. She is the perfect woman for me.

I realise her just as she passes out, watching as she goes limp in the chair, her red hair falling over her face. She looks so small and fragile laid there like she is. But that’s ok, I will take care of her.

I’ll make her see that she can’t like without me, no matter how hard she tries.

I lift her into my arms and walk back to her room in the basement, gently placing her down on the mattress and covering her with the blanket. She looks peaceful. But that won’t last.

She’ll wake up soon, and I can’t be here when she does, I almost lost control and tore off her clothes, whether she was willing or not. That can not happen again.

She needs to ready, this won’t work until she is.

It is going to take time, and trust. Lots of trust.