Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I hold my breath as the seconds tick by and she remains like that, caught in a trance.
“Lenochka?”
She blinks once, twice, before her gaze meets mine. Moisture gathers in her eyes and a tear slides down her cheek. I wipe it with the pad of my thumb as she shakes uncontrollably in my arms.
Seeming to be out of her trance, she bolts upright, kneeling in front of me on the bed. Her expression is frantic now as she clutches my bicep, moves her hand up, then checks my side, my chest, and even my back.
She’s touching me everywhere, feeling, inspecting, completely oblivious to how hard I’ve become in the short span of her ministrations.
I’ve had blue balls since she first walked into this bedroom, but I can’t fuck her just yet. Not when she’s having all these nightmares and building her walls.
“You’re not shot,” she breathes out in a whisper.
“Do I look like I am?” I try to keep my voice calm, even though my jaw is clenching, and not only because of being hard, but because she responded to Winter and not Lia.
“No. But it felt so real, so visceral…” She palms my cheek and freezes when she feels my jaw tightening under her hold, then swiftly drops her hand to her side.
“Another nightmare?”
She nods once.
It’s not the first time I’ve had to wake her up because of a nightmare. It’s happened twice in the past week, but she didn’t really open her eyes and talk. She just fell back to sleep, so I doubt she remembers them.
I do, though.
The gurgling, choking sounds she makes is like my custom-made hell. Sometimes, I hear it even when I’m awake and I have to check on the cameras in case it’s happening in real time.
“Lia was there,” she says quietly. “She wanted to kill me and then…then…”
I touch her arm gently. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
She stares up at me with those huge eyes. They’re lost like she doesn’t know who she’s looking at and she’s somehow still trapped inside the nightmare.
“Why did you bring me here, Adrian?” she murmurs, her voice pained.
“You know.”
“Because I look like Lia?”
I nod.
“I’m not her. And the more you compare me to her, the more I feel myself being erased, forgotten. I don’t want to be forgotten.”
I grab her by the arm and try to put her under the sheet. “Sleep for now.”
“No.” She yanks her arm free. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Winter. For once, just call me Winter. Please.”
I did and I hated it. I hated it so much that I want to pour bleach down my fucking throat.
“No.”
“Please…” Tears cascade down her cheeks. “Please don’t erase me. Please, Adrian.”
“Don’t beg me for something like that. You’re Lia. Get used to it.”
A sob tears from her throat, and her lips purse, one of them battered and cut from how much she bites down on it.
That has to heal before she’s ever seen in public. She needs to snap out of it, but I know it won’t be easy to have her comply. That is, if it’s possible at all.
This time, she doesn’t resist as I tuck her under the covers. She willingly closes her eyes and whispers, “I wish I’d never met you.”
My lips brush against her forehead. “I’ll meet you over and over again if I have to.”
23
Winter
Three days later, we go to the party.
Though, judging by the number of armed guards present, I wouldn’t exactly call it a party.
It’s the first time I’ve been out of Adrian’s house since I got there, and while I thought it would be liberating, it’s somehow more suffocating.
Part of it is because of the number of guards who are accompanying us in a separate car. Five, aside from Kolya and Yan.
Part is because Jeremy cried when I told him I wouldn’t be reading him a bedtime story tonight. His tears drew a black hole in my chest that still hasn’t mended.
Tonight is just wrong on so many levels. Will I make a mistake? Will all of Adrian’s and Ogla’s warnings come true? I want to crawl back into Jeremy’s room, kiss his soft cheeks, and pretend like the whole world only exists because of him.
But here I am, in the middle of a party, celebrating the birthday of a man I’ve never met before.
The Pakhan, Sergei, decided to host Igor’s birthday at his mansion, which is apparently a great honor. The brotherhood’s compound is massive, even larger than Adrian’s house, and has a garden that goes on for miles. It’s surrounded by high walls and cameras that blink in every corner.
It feels scarier than the place I left behind, emptier, bigger. Which is weird since I think Adrian’s house is terrifying. Whenever I walk the halls, I feel like its walls will open their mouths wide and scream in my face—or drag me into nothingness. Its soul is as black as its owner’s.