Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
The proof is in his actions, weakening me blow by blow. A gentle caress of the cloth, the smoothing of my hair. The tying of my dress, and the soft, tender kiss he leaves on my lips. Maybe they are sweet.
Or maybe he’s just wiping away the evidence.
Nikolai leaves the bathroom first, giving me time to collect my thoughts and reinforce my emotional armor. When I do step outside, Mischa is waiting for me in the hall, his face devoid of emotion. Like Nikolai, he has strong Slavic features. Pale eyes and the facial structure of a Viking. He has all the attributes that would make him considerably handsome to a wide audience of women, but I am not one of them. It appears the feeling is mutual because, as it stands, he can barely look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “About that night—”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he answers. “And it’s probably best if we never speak of it again.”
I nod, and we are both quiet again. Down the hall, it appears the dancing has commenced. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready for what the rest of this evening holds, but I’d rather get it over with than hide in this hall. Mischa, however, has other intentions. Just when I thought the conversation was dead in the water, he touches my arm to get my attention.
“Are your feelings for him genuine?” he asks. “Or are you just doing what you think is best for your own situation?”
His implication rattles me. To think he has any right to question my motives is beyond laughable.
“You are asking me if I love him or hate him?” I glare. “Then it depends on the day. The hour. Sometimes, the minute.”
Mischa scrutinizes my face. It wasn’t my intent to utter that awful word. Love. His accusation unsettled me, and I wasn’t thinking straight. But of course, Mischa doesn’t see it that way.
“He can’t be with you, Nakya,” he says. “You have to know this. Whatever is happening between you two doesn’t matter. He can never be with you.”
I swallow the bitterness in my throat and straighten my spine. “I know.”
“If you truly care about him, then do what’s best for him. Get out while you still can. Go somewhere far away and forget your name. Forget your old life and your family and any world that ever existed for you.”
“That’s an easy solution for you,” I answer. “Are you going to help me?”
He lowers his head. “I can’t.”
“Then don’t tell me to escape. I have nowhere to go. No money, no resources—”
“Find a way,” he insists. “You are the daughter of a criminal. It should not be that difficult for you to figure it out. You’ve been raised tough, and you are a survivor. If you want to live, then leave.”
The hard truths hurt, and this time is no exception. I know that Mischa is right. Nikolai is too blinded by his own confliction to do what’s necessary in this situation, and soon, it will be too late. Already, I crave him. I miss him when he’s gone, and I anticipate the smallest interaction we might have. It isn’t healthy. I have clung to the illusion that my captor can be my savior too, but it isn’t possible.
I have to be the one to walk away. But something is still holding me back. I’m not ready to let him go, and I can’t admit that to Mischa right now.
“I’ll try to find a way,” I croak.
Mischa nods. For the sake of his friend, he wants to believe my assurances. For the sake of my sanity, I want to believe them too.
We walk down the corridor together, edging into the fray. Laughter and music assault my ears, and around us, the merriment is in full swing. Between the drinking and toasting and conversations and dancing, I try to find my bearings. I don’t belong here. This is an occasion for celebration, and I have nothing to celebrate. Everyone is blissfully intoxicated, sparkling in their finery, and the most shocking thing of all is that love is present too. There are so many couples in love. I would never have believed it if I didn’t see it for myself, but maybe what Nikolai said is true. There is no other man who holds his wife in higher regard than a Vor. And at the epicenter of all that love is the man who can never love me, dancing with his future wife.
To see him with her after he just left me makes me flinch. I expected it. I thought I was prepared for it, but it only nurtures the disease inside me. The belief that I will never be enough. My arms hang limply at my sides, and I feel too weak to move.