Chapter 165 165

Chapter 165 165
“… And you.”

I stare at him, wondering if I’d heard that correctly. In my peripheral vision, I see all the identical Isaaks crowding towards a blonde girl who looks completely thunderstruck.

Nothing in here feels real, so it’s not even that startling when I suddenly seem to be floating outside of my body. If anything, it’s kind of pleasantly objective. I’m just a spectator now, staring at a man and a woman all alone in a hall of mirrors. Looking at each other like they’re the only thing in the world that matters.

The man is gorgeous. Sin incarnate. Dark and stormy and impossibly huge.

The woman is—well, I suppose it’s only slightly narcissistic to say she’s pretty. Her golden blonde hair is lush and curly; her green eyes are certainly bright, certainly eye-catching. But there’s still a trace of fear in her eyes. Hesitation in the set of jaw.

She looks like a fragile bird who’s finally beginning to understand that she can fly—but she’s still afraid to look over the edge of the abyss.

When I force my eyes away from the mirror, I find Isaak staring at me with a soft smile on his lips.

“Isaak?” I whisper.

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.”

Everything is so quiet. So still.

“Of what?” he asks.

I swallow. “Everything.”

“What difference does that make?” he asks. “Fear is a natural part of life. No one can escape it. It shouldn’t change what we do.”

“You’ve never been scared in your life,” I point out.

He smiles. “I’m human, too, Camila.”

I reach out and touch him with a single trembling feeling. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure about that.”

His smile gets wider, distractingly beautiful. And yet, I still notice when he wraps one hand around my hip. He squeezes me possessively, and without even thinking about it, I step forward into the circle of his arms.

“When I was seven years old and I realized that Bogdan was going to get his hand sliced if he didn’t stand up to Otets… I was frightened.”

I shiver. “Surely he wouldn’t have actually—”

Isaak stares down at his own arm. “Oh, he would have done it. Without batting an eye.”

My fingers dance over the scars gently. This is maybe the first time ever I’ve felt so free to touch him the way I want. Our proximity gives me easy access, yes. But it’s more than that.

I’m comfortable with him.

“You were scared?”

“Yes.”

“But… not for yourself.”

He shrugs. “I don’t get scared for myself.”

“You’re in dangerous situations all the time.”

“I told you before: death… it’s not something I run from.”

“Why the hell not? If there’s anything to run from, it’s that.”

“Because if you’re constantly worried about death, you’re never going to get to live.”

“Wow,” I drawl. “They should put that in a fortune cookie.”

He grabs me around the waist and pulls me against his groin so I can feel his erection. “Careful, kiska: you keep talking like that and you’re going to get punished.”

Desire burns through me at the threat. It strikes me that the only reason I’m able to feel that desire at all is because I feel safe with him.

Isaak Vorobev makes me feel safe amidst the danger.

“I’m the only person in the world that you’re not a threat to,” I whisper. “That’s what you said the night we met.”

He chuckles. “You remember.”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything about that night. Especially that.”

“It’s true.”

“Why?”

He looks perplexed for a moment. “Why what?”

“Why is it true?” I ask. “I was a complete stranger. You didn’t know anything about me. Why say something that insane?”

He shrugs. “Instinct.”

“Come on, Isaak. You weren’t interested in anything more than fucking me that night.”

“I was interested in talking to you, too.”

“Just so that you could convince me to sleep with you.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Isaak?” I ask. “I’m supposed to believe that of all the women you could have had, you chose me because you just knew instinctively that I was special?”

“Why aren’t you satisfied with that answer?”

“Because it’s unrealistic.”

“Or maybe you’re just jaded.”

“I’m not going to argue with that,” I concede. “But both things can be true at the same time.”

“You obviously don’t see yourself very clearly,” Isaak tells me. “You don’t see what I see.”

“And what’s that?”

Instead of answering right away, he steps behind me and pivots us both to face the biggest mirror in the entire display. He points at our reflection. Him dwarfing me. His eyes, dark and furious with lust and longing and maybe even love. His hands on my hips, his breath on my neck.

“You tell me,” he growls.

“Isaak…”

“No? Then I’ll tell you what I see. I see a lioness. A fierce protector who’s waded through hell to keep her daughter safe. I see an angel. I see a Bratva queen. I see my wife.”

Between each sentence, he presses another soft kiss into the curve of my throat.

My breath catches in my chest. I’m feeling too many things to contain them. I’m going to burst if I can’t find an outlet.

Fortunately for me, making me explode is exactly what Isaak has in mind.

His fingers find the strap of my dress and slide it delicately off my shoulder. I want it—so fucking badly. But I catch his wrist.

“We’re in a public place!” I protest weakly.

“So?” He looks supremely unconcerned.

“What if someone walks in?”

“They can watch,” he growls. “The whole fucking world can watch if they want to. Not a single one of them can keep me away from you.”

He stares right into my eyes as he says it. And when I can’t find the words to fight back, he knows the truth: I want this as badly as he does.

My pussy throbs painfully as he reaches around from behind to unbutton the pale-yellow dress I’m wearing. He shimmies it down my shoulders, down around my waist.

I step out of it and turn to look at him.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stands there and stares at me in my bra and panties like it’d take a fucking army to make him look away.

“Take off your bra.”

I obey without a word. The moment my breasts spill free, I look down at the massive bulge in his pants. I swallow back and hold my ground.

“Panties next.”

I shimmy out of panties and toss them back where my dress lies.

Standing naked in a carnival house of mirrors is probably one of the more surreal moments of my life. And yet… I don’t feel self-conscious in the way I thought I would.

The way Isaak is looking at me prevents me from feeling anything other than desire.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, and the words seem to echo all around us. “Come here.”

I take one step towards him. And then we suddenly reach a point—at the exact same time, like we’re perfectly in sync with each other—where this whole waiting game, the whole idea of patience and denial and delay, delay, delay? It’s not fucking feasible anymore.