Chapter 6 Twenty-Eight Ways
“My love,” he says with that wicked smile that never reaches his eyes. The faint creak of his shoes against the floorboards fills the silence between us.
My breath catches as his gaze drops to where I’m crouched.
“Why are you on the floor?” His voice lowers. “I hate the sight of that.”
I stay still, too terrified to move. His words sound almost tender, but his tone carries something far colder. Possession.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally manage, my voice shaking. “This… this won’t make me love you. It’ll only make me hate you more.”
He chuckles softly, a sound that feels wrong in the quiet room.
“You know, in that short moment you locked me out,” he begins, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve, “I thought of twenty-eight different ways I could get you out of this room. Some of them were… unpleasant. But I chose the one that wouldn’t hurt you.”
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears. He says it like he’s proud. Like terror is a gift he’s gracious enough to spare me from.
“I’m not giving myself to you,” I say, forcing the words out through trembling lips as I push myself to my feet. “Our marriage is a lie. I’m in love with someone else. For how long do I have to—”
“Now, now,” he interrupts smoothly. His voice remains low, but there’s a sharp warning beneath it. “That’s what I won’t tolerate. The mention of Adrian Calloway.”
My breath stutters.
He steps closer, and I instinctively move back until the cold wall presses against my spine. His cologne fills the air. A clean, dark scent that makes my stomach twist.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his head tilting slightly, eyes scanning my face like he’s memorizing my fear. “Do you think I’d let you go to another man after everything I’ve done for you?”
I swallow hard, my throat burning.
Somehow, he had gotten in. He’s here now, with that calm, dangerous patience that terrifies me more than anger ever could.
God, no. I won’t let this happen. I can’t.
I force myself to meet his eyes, steadying my voice even though my body trembles. “I’m tired,” I whisper. “It’s been a long day. I can’t do anything with you right now.”
He studies me like I’m a puzzle he’s not quite finished solving. Then his lips twitch.
“You’re standing upright,” he points out softly. “Your breathing is shallow, not labored. You don’t look tired to me.”
My hands tighten around the hem of my nightdress. I can’t show weakness, not when his every move feels like a test I can’t afford to fail.
"I'm not going to do anything you won't like, little bride," he murmurs, taking a slow step forward. His tone is almost gentle, but the darkness in his eyes tightens my gut. He closes the distance until his breath ghosts over my skin. "You'll enjoy it as much as I will."
My heart slams against my ribs. “Give me time,” I manage to whisper. “To be prepared. I—”
“Liora.”
The way he says my name stops everything. My breathing, my thoughts, my pulse. He drags out each syllable, savoring it, like he’s tasting the sound on his tongue. My world tilts, caught in that single, low command.
“Stop with the excuses,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And lay down.”
What?
The word tears through my mind.
He isn’t backing down. He’s serious. This is really happening.
“Please,” I choke out, shutting my eyes as tears sting the corners. “Let me be, just for now. Or… ask for something else, anything but that. Please.”
I open my eyes.
And freeze.
Nikolai’s dark gaze meets mine, and for a moment, I can’t read what’s there. The mocking gleam he always carries is gone. In its place is something heavier… restrained. His jaw flexes, his eyes darkening as though he’s wrestling with something inside himself.
“Get some rest,” he says finally, his voice lower now. “We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow.”
And with that, he turns and walks away.
When the door clicks shut, I realize I’ve been holding my breath. A shaky exhale escapes me, and my knees buckle beneath me. I slide down the wall until I’m on the floor, trembling so hard my hands can barely stay still.
I managed to keep him away.
I don’t even know how. I can’t tell if it was my words, my tone, or simply some fleeting restraint in him. But he left. For now, that’s all that matters.
Today is over.
Tomorrow… I’ll find a way to speak to Adrian again. I have to. I don’t know how long I can survive in this gilded hell, trapped in fear.
A sudden knock at the door sends my heart leaping into my throat.
Not again. Please, not again.
My breath catches. “Who is it?” I whisper, barely audible.
“Food for you, madam,” comes a soft female voice from the other side.
The tension in my body eases, just a little. A maid. Not him.
I stay silent, and after a moment the door clicks open. A woman in a simple apron steps inside, her head bowed respectfully. She looks around quickly, as if afraid of who might be watching, then crosses to the small table beside my bed.
“Dinner,” she murmurs, setting down a silver tray before me.
The aroma hits me instantly. Warm bread, roasted chicken, a faint hint of herbs. My stomach twists painfully. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until now. I hadn’t eaten since morning. Before the wedding, I’d barely touched my food, too anxious about the dress, the ceremony… and everything that came after.
The maid hesitates, her gaze flicking to the broken door. The splintered wood near the knob tells the story she doesn’t dare ask about. Our eyes meet briefly. There’s something in hers, a mix of pity and silent understanding, before she lowers her head again.
Without a word, she steps out, closing the door quietly behind her.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the tray. The smell alone is enough to make me dizzy. Slowly, I sit on the edge of the bed, hands trembling as I pick up a piece of bread. The first bite burns my throat. It’s too hot, or maybe I’m just too shaken to swallow properly.
But I keep eating.
Each bite tastes like something normal in a night that has been anything but.
At least, I think bitterly, Nikolai was decent enough to send food. Or maybe he just wants me strong enough for whatever tomorrow brings.
I clutch the blanket to my chest. I try to steady my breathing, to tell myself I’m safe, but deep down, I know the truth. Nothing, nothing, can keep me safe from him.
I close my eyes, willing the terror to shrink into something manageable, but it refuses. It coils in my stomach and spreads into my limbs. I try to breathe, to steady my pulse, but it’s hopeless. Every instinct screams that I am utterly, completely at his mercy. And yet, somewhere in the corner of my mind, a spark of defiance refuses to die. I will endure. I have to.
Because if I let myself break, if I let him see how close I am to shattering… then he’ll know exactly where to press next.
And somehow, I know that’s exactly what tomorrow is waiting for. My surrender.
Because monsters don’t always break down doors. Sometimes they wait for you to open them yourself.