Chapter 64 064

Chapter 64 064
Natasha

The pack celebration was in full swing. There was music, dancing and laughter echoing through the great hall.

It should have been beautiful and joyful. Instead it was torture, because Mikhail was dancing with Irina.

Her arms were around his neck, her body pressed close, that confident smile on her perfect face. She said something that made him nod, and Dimitri watched from the side with obvious approval.

I stood near the refreshment table, a glass of wine clutched in my hand, watching the man I loved hold another woman.

"They look good together, don't they?"

I turned to find Svetlana, one of the pack females, beside me. She was smiling, oblivious to the knife she was twisting in my chest.

"Yes," I managed. "Very good."

"Dimitri says they'll announce the mating soon. Probably within the month," She sighed dreamily. "It'll be such a beautiful ceremony."

I downed the rest of my wine in one swallow.

"Easy there," Svetlana laughed. "It's strong stuff."

I didn't care. I needed something to numb the pain of watching Irina run her hand down Mikhail's chest and lean up to whisper in his ear.

I needed something to stop imagining their mating ceremony, their wedding night and their future together.

I refilled my glass, then drank that too. The alcohol hit fast on my empty stomach, making everything slightly hazy, but it didn't help.

I could still see them perfectly. Mikhail's hand on Irina's waist, her fingers tangled in his hair.

She kissed his cheek boldly, staking her claim for everyone to see. My glass was empty again. I reached for the bottle.

"Careful," A male voice said. "You'll regret that tomorrow."

I looked up to find Sam, one of the soldiers, grinning at me. He was handsome in a boyish way. He had sandy hair, broad shoulders and an easy smile.

"Maybe I want to regret it." I said, surprised by how steady my voice was despite the wine warming my blood.

"Bad night?"

"You could say that."

He followed my gaze to the dance floor, understanding dawning. "Ah. The courtship."

I took another drink instead of answering.

"For what it's worth, I think Mikhail's an idiot," Sam leaned against the table beside me. "If I had someone who looked at me the way you look at him, I wouldn't waste my time with anyone else."

My head snapped toward him. "I don't follow."

"Relax," His smile was kind. "Your secret's safe with me. I'm good at noticing things others miss."

Great. First Mary, now Sam. How many people knew?

"Dance with me." He said suddenly.

"What?"

"You're miserable standing here watching, and I'm bored. Dance with me," He offered his hand. "Unless you'd rather keep torturing yourself."

I looked back at the dance floor. Irina had her head on Mikhail's shoulder now, and Dimitri was talking to her father, both of them watching the couple with satisfaction.

Fuck it. I took Sam's hand.

He led me onto the dance floor, pulling me into a traditional hold, close, but respectful.

We moved to the music, and I tried to focus on the steps, on Sam's easy conversation, on anything but Mikhail, but I could feel his eyes on me.

I could sense the exact moment he noticed I was dancing with another male.

"Your plan is working," Sam murmured. "He's staring daggers at me."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't," He spun me, then pulled me back. "Though I should warn you, if looks could kill, I'd be dead already."

"He's with Irina. He has no right."

"Since when does love care about rights?" Sam’s hand slid slightly lower on my back. "Want me to make him really jealous?"

The sensible thing to do would have been to say no, instead I moved closer, let Sam hold me tighter and tipped my head back to laugh at something he said.

I felt Mikhail's gaze burning into me like a brand. The song ended, and another began.

Sam kept me on the floor. He kept talking and touching me in ways that were technically appropriate but clearly interested.

"You're playing with fire," He said, though he was grinning. "He looks ready to murder me."

"Let him look."

But my bravado cracked when I glanced toward Mikhail and saw his face. He had stopped dancing.

Irina was talking to him, but he wasn't listening. He was staring at me with an expression that was furious and intense.

His jaw was clenched, his hands fisted at his sides and his eyes practically glowed with fury. Even Irina noticed, following his gaze to me and Sam.

"Oh shit," Sam breathed. "Natasha, maybe we should—"

Mikhail moved.

He crossed the dance floor in seconds, not caring who he pushed past, his focus locked entirely on me. Irina called after him but he didn't even glance back.

"Natasha," His voice was deadly quiet when he reached us. "Come with me."

"We're dancing."

"Now."

His hand closed around my wrist, not quite rough but absolutely unyielding. Sam wisely stepped back, both hands raised in surrender.

"We were just dancing, man."

"Shut up," Mikhail's eyes never left mine. "You've got three seconds to walk away before I rip your throat out."

Sam left quickly which was a pretty wise decision.

"Mikhail, you can't just—" I tried to pull free but his grip tightened.

"Watch me."

He hauled me off the dance floor, ignoring the stares and ignoring Dimitri calling his name. We went down a hallway, then another, until he found an empty room. It was some kind of storage space with shelves and boxes.

He shoved me inside and slammed the door, locking it.

"What the fuck was that?" His voice was low, dangerous.

"Dancing. Something you were doing with Irina—"

"Don't," He advanced on me and I backed up until I hit the wall. "Don't you dare compare those two things."

"Why not? You get to parade around with her, let her touch you and hold you."

"I have to be with her. You chose to be with him."

"And what was I supposed to do? Stand there and watch you like some pathetic—"

He kissed me violently, his mouth crushing mine, swallowing my words. When he pulled back, his eyes were wild.

"You're mine," He growled. "Mine, and you let another male put his hands on you."

"You put your hands on Irina."

"That's different and you know it," His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. "I feel nothing when I touch her. But you? You felt something with him. Don't lie to me."

"I—" The truth was I felt nothing for Sam either. I only used him to make Mikhail feel what I felt every time I saw him with Irina. "No. I didn't."

"You danced with him. You let him hold you. You touched him," Each word came through clenched teeth. "Do you have any idea what that did to me? Watching another male touch what's mine?"

"I'm not yours, not really."

"The fuck you're not."

He spun me around, shoving me lightly against the wall. I heard him yanking at his belt, freeing himself, then his hands were under my dress, tearing my underwear completely off.

"Mikhail—"

"Quiet," He kicked my legs apart, his hand between my thighs finding me wet despite my anger. "Your mouth says one thing but your body tells the truth. You're soaked for me."

"Because you're an asshole!"

He thrust into me in one brutal stroke and I cried out.

"Say it," He demanded, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. "Say you're mine."

"Fuck you."

He set a punishing pace, one hand gripping my hip, the other still in my hair, holding me in place. "Wrong answer."

It hurt and felt incredible at the same time. The stretch of him, the angle and the barely controlled roughness in every thrust. He was fucking me like he owned me, like he was proving something.

"You want to make me jealous?" His teeth grazed my shoulder. "Want to let other males touch you? Fine, but remember this. Remember who actually makes you feel this way."

His hand released my hair to grab my throat, tilting my head to the side. Then his teeth sank into my shoulder and I screamed.

He bit down hard, marking me, his hips never stopping their brutal rhythm. When he released, I felt blood trickle down my skin.

"Everyone will see that," He rasped. "Everyone will know you belong to someone."

"They'll know—ah!—they'll know I'm sleeping with someone—"

"Good," Another bite, this time on the other side. "Let them know. Let them wonder. Let that fucker Sam see these marks and know he can't have you."

He pulled out suddenly, spinning me around and lifting me. My back hit the wall as he thrust back in, my legs wrapped around his waist, completely at his mercy.

"Look at me." He commanded.

I opened my eyes to find his face inches from mine. They were feral and possessive.

"Mine," He said, punctuating the word with a deep thrust. "Say it."

"Yours," I dug my nails into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Mikhail."

"Damn right you are," His mouth found my neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks everywhere he could reach. My collarbone, my throat and the curve where my neck met my shoulder.

He claimed and marked me, making sure everyone would see.

"Please—" I was getting close, the angle hitting perfectly, his possession pushing me toward the edge.

"Not yet," He slowed down, drawing it out. "You don't get to come until I say."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" He laughed darkly. "You want to talk about fair? After what you just put me through?"

He carried me to a table, sweeping boxes aside and laying me on it. My dress was pushed up around my waist, legs spread wide, completely exposed to him.

"So fucking beautiful," He muttered, looking down at me. "And all mine."

He entered me again, this angle even deeper, and I moaned.

"That's it," His thumb found my clit, rubbing tight circles. "Let me hear you. Let everyone in that hall know what's happening here."

"They'll know—fuck—they'll know it's us—"

"I don't care," He thrust harder, faster, his thumb working me expertly. "Let them know. Let them all know you're being fucked by someone who actually wants you. Who can't function without you."

The orgasm hit me like lightning, my back arching off the table, his name torn from my throat. He followed immediately, slamming deep and spilling inside me with a guttural groan.

We stayed frozen like that, both shaking, his forehead pressed to mine.

"Don't ever do that again," He finally said, his voice rough. "Don't let another man touch you. I can't—" He kissed me desperately. "I can't see that and stay sane."

"Then don't make me watch you with Irina."

"I'm trying to find a way out. I swear I am." He pulled back to look at me, his hand gentle now as it cupped my face.

"But until I do, you have to trust that she means nothing. That this—" He gestured between us, "—is the only thing that's real."

I looked down at myself. My dress disheveled, marks blooming all over my neck and shoulders, his release dripping down my thighs. I looked thoroughly fucked and claimed.

"How am I supposed to go back out there like this?"

"You're not," He helped me sit up, wrapping his arms around me. "We'll wait until the celebration winds down, then sneak you back to your room."

"And the marks?"

"Wear high-necked shirts. Scarves. Whatever you need to hide them in public," His fingers traced one of the bites gently. "But when we're alone, I want to see them. I want to remember that you're mine, no matter what anyone else thinks."

Instead of being angry, I just held him tighter, letting myself believe for a few more stolen moments that we could actually have this.

That somehow, some way, we would find a path forward.