Chapter 23 Anya
Nikolai's behavior tonight was terrifying. First, he cut off a woman's hand because she slapped me. And now he's offering to take me to my room, holding my hands firmly.
I couldn't pull out because I needed his support to steady myself.
As I was about to sit down and let Vera clean me, the door suddenly opened, and Katya walked in dripping wealth and power.
Without thinking, I yanked my hand away from Nikolai's like I had been burned.
I did not know why I did it so fast. It was just instinct. I was panicking.
I didn't know if Katya saw us holding hands. If she dis, it will cause trouble.
Nikolai frowned at my gesture. His gray eyes darkened.
Then he grabbed my hand back again, wrapping his fingers around mine firmly.
I looked at him, shocked and terrified.
Has this man lost his mind? Did he not see Katya standing in front of us?
"What are you doing here, Katya?" Nikolai asked coldly. "Why did you barge in like that?"
Katya's eyes dropped to our joined hands and her smile faltered. A flash of anger crossed her face.
I tried to pull my hand away. But Nikolai held on tighter. He even intertwined our fingers, lacing them together in a way that felt intimate and possessive.
My heart pounded. I did not understand what was happening.
Why was he doing this to me?
Katya walked closer. Her heels clicked on the floor. She looked me up and down, her nose wrinkling as she took in the blood on my dress.
Then she turned to Nikolai and pouted. "We were supposed to be married after the last blood tithe, remember? But it seems you have been too busy with your new mistress to remember our alliance."
Married? If course. They were supposed to get married.
Katya was from a powerful family. Beautiful and elegant. Everything a Pakhan's wife should be.
"Anya has nothing to do with our marriage," Nikolai said flatly. "We are still engaged. We will be married when it is time."
The words hit me like a slap.
Nothing to do with their marriage. Of course I was nothing. Just a body he used to sleep.
"When it is time?" Katya's voice rose. "My father is getting impatient, Nikolai. If you do not set a date soon, he is threatening to pull out of the alliance."
"Then let him pull out." Nikolai said flatly.
Katya's face went pale. "You do not mean that."
"Do I not?" Nikolai's voice was cold.
Katya's eyes widened. "You need this alliance. Without my family's support…"
"I need nothing," Nikolai interrupted. "Vera, take care of Anya. Clean her up and have the doctor look at her."
"Of course, Pakhan." Vera stepped forward with the warm water.
But Nikolai was still holding my hand. He did not let go.
Katya's eyes narrowed. She glared at me with pure hatred. "You think you are special? You think he cares about you? You are nothing. Just a warm body. A tool. When he is done with you, he will throw you away like garbage."
"Katya," Nikolai said quietly. "Leave. Now."
"Fine." She spun around, her dress swirling. "But do not say I did not warn you. My father will not wait forever."
She stormed out. The door slammed behind her.
Silence fell over the room.
Nikolai finally released my hand slowly.
"Vera, take care of her," he said again. Then he turned and walked out.
The door clicked shut. I was alone with Vera.
"Come, child," she said gently. "Let us get you clean."
I let her lead me to the bathroom. Let her help me out of the blood-soaked dress. Let her wash the blood from my face and hands.
But I could not stop shaking.
Katya's words echoed in my mind. You are nothing. Just a warm body. A tool.
She was right anyways. That was all I was.
And Nikolai had confirmed it. I have nothing to do with our marriage.
I was a mistress. A slave. A convenient solution to his insomnia.
That was all I would ever be.
But why does it hurt? It shouldn't hurt. He made it clear from the very beginning.
The doctor came. An old man with kind eyes. He checked my face where Svetlana had slapped me. The skin was red and swollen but not serious.
"You will have a bruise," he said. "But nothing permanent."
"Thank you," I whispered.
He left. Vera dressed me in clean nightclothes and led me to my bed.
"Try to sleep, child," she said softly.
"I do not think I can." I whispered.
"Try anyway." She left.
The door closed. I was alone in the dark. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. My cheek throbbed. My whole body ached.
I could not stop seeing that hand on the floor.
Nikolai had cut it off. Had severed someone's hand. Because she slapped me.
No one touches what is mine, he had said.
But I was not his. Not really. I was just property. Just a tool he used.
He would marry Katya and have children with her.
And I would be nothing. Just a mistress he kept in the shadows.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
But all I could see was blood. All I could hear was screaming.
Hours passed. Maybe minutes. I could not tell.
Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.
The door to my room opened slowly.
Nikolai stood in the doorway. He had changed his clothes. He was in his usual black.
"You should be asleep," he said.
"I cannot sleep." I whispered.
"Neither can I." He walked to the bed. "Move over." He said casually.
"What?" My eyes widened. Why was I shocked? He sleeps here now.
"Move over, Anya." He said calmly again.
I shifted to the side.
He climbed into bed beside me and pulled me into his arms.
My body tensed.
"Nikolai…"
"Shh. Just sleep." He whispered.
"But I cannot stop seeing the hand and the blood."
"Okay." He said flatly.
"Does it not bother you?" I asked, surprised at how calm he is.
"No." His voice was calm. "She hurt you. And paid the price."
"But Katya said…"
"I do not care what Katya said."
"She said I am nothing. That I am just a tool you will throw away." My voice cracked, I fought back my tears.
I don't know why I am feeling this way.
I should hate Nikolai. I should be terrified of him. He had just cut off someone's hand in front of hundreds of people. But lying in his arms, I felt safe. Maybe I was broken too. Maybe this place had changed me. Maybe I was becoming just like them.
"Katya was wrong." He said softly.
"Is she?"
He did not answer. He just held me tighter.
"Nikolai…"
"Sleep, Anya." He said firmly.
And I closed my eyes and let his warmth surround me.
And slowly, impossibly, I started to drift off.
Just before sleep took me, I heard him whisper something. It was so quiet I almost missed it.
"You are mine. In every way that matters."
I wanted to ask what he meant. But sleep pulled me under.
The last thing I felt was his lips pressing against my hair.
When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. The bed was cold. Like he had never been there at all.
But on the pillow beside me was a single white rose.
I picked it up and stared at it.
What does this mean?
A knock came at the door. Vera entered with breakfast.
"Good morning, child. How are you feeling?"
"Confused," I admitted.
She smiled sadly. "That is normal in this house."
"Vera? Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." She nodded.
"Why did Nikolai put a rose on my pillow?"
Vera's eyes widened. "A white rose?"
"Yes." I nodded.
She was quiet. Then she said, "In the Volkov family, a white rose means protection. It means you are under someone's care. That they will defend you with their life."
My heart stuttered. "But why would he…"
"I think you know why, child." She smiled and I found myself blushing.