Given to Madness

by Fox, Winter

  I bowed my head, closing my eyes. “Then what?” I whispered.

  His voice was cold, hard, and brutal. “I haven’t decided yet. But I know that whatever I do to you, I’ll make sure Ilya has a front row seat. I think he enjoyed watching last time.”

  My eyes snapped open, and my skin crawled in revulsion as I fumbled blindly to pull the door open. I needed to get away from him.

  “See you in three days, Liselle.” His mocking voice followed me out of the door.

  I closed the door quietly behind me, leaning my back against it while relief washed through me. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t touched me, or that he was going away for three whole days. And the best part of all, was the fact that the other men were going with him. I was actually going to be able to walk around the house without worrying about being jumped on.

  As I made my way back toward Ilya’s room, the smell of bacon suddenly wafted up the stairs—making my stomach growl in response. I hesitated, unsure if it was wise to go down to breakfast alone. But then I rationalized that the men would most likely be preparing for their trip, so I took the risk—jogging down the stairs and into the bright, modern kitchen.

  The housekeeper was bustling around the kitchen when I walked in, and she paused to smile at me; before gesturing to a seat at a table which was covered with delicious breakfast foods. As I sat down, I noticed there were dirty plates on the table, which told me that the Five had probably already eaten.

  I sat down comfortably and piled my plate with bacon, eggs, and toast. And I poured myself a large glass of orange juice. The food was delicious, and for just a moment I forgot where I was, savoring the quiet warmth of the kitchen. I was grateful when—as though sensing my need for peace—the housekeeper disappeared into the next room. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  “You shouldn’t be down here alone.” His voice caused an unexplained tightening low in my stomach. I hated the effect that this man had on me.

  “I was hungry.” I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder at him when I replied. Instead, I carried on staring out of the bank of windows which formed one entire wall of the kitchen.

  He sat down in a chair opposite me, staring at me in silence, and I glared back at him while continuing with my breakfast. He reached out to grab a coffee pot, and poured himself a fresh cup; before gesturing to a second cup. Silently asking me if I wanted one.

  I shook my head, knowing that I was being petulant. But if it bothered him, it didn’t show. He sat back in the chair comfortably and sipped at the hot liquid.

  He frowned suddenly, and reached forward to press his fingertips against the cheek which Mariusz had just hit. He shook his head angrily, fury darkening his eyes.

  “Mariusz is going to Colombia,” he growled.

  “I know. He told me,” I said, placing my knife and fork down on my plate. My appetite rapidly waning.

  “His car leaves at one-thirty. I thought you might like to go out for a while.”

  I perked up at that suggestion. “I’m actually allowed to go out?”

  “Of course, you are. You’re a grown woman,” he huffed.

  I bit back the smart-ass reply which found its way to my tongue—not wanting him to change his mind about letting me out. “Okay. Is there a car that I can use?”

  He nodded, before rising from his chair. “I’ll drive you.”

  “I can drive myself,” I snapped.

  He grinned wickedly. “Sorry, milaya. You’re not permitted to go out by yourself.”

  I stood up to face him, angry and embarrassed at being treated like a child. “I wouldn’t run away when my brothers’ lives were at stake, you know.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think for a single minute that you would. But, you’re a Marchesi, and soon to be a Sokolov. Do you have any idea how many people in this city have reasons to hurt you right now?”

  He was coming to protect me, not chaperone me. My angry demeanor deflated a little. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  “It’s all right, it’s what I’m here for. I don’t just protect Mariusz now. You’re my responsibility too. Go upstairs and change, milaya. Then we can go.”

  I nodded, heading for the door. I desperately wanted to ask him about his relationship with Mariusz, and I also had the unreasonable urge to warn him about what Mariusz had said about hurting him.

  For now though, I kept silent. Unsure if telling Ilya the truth would only make Mariusz lash out even harder.

  “I’ll wait here until you’re ready.” He sat back down as he spoke.

  “All right. Give me five minutes?” Excitement at the prospect of time away from this house made me smile as I took the stairs two at a time to go and change.

  19

  Liss

  I came back down into the kitchen after twenty-minutes of trying to choose an outfit, but if Ilya was impatient with my time-keeping he didn’t let it show. He was standing waiting at the floor-to-ceiling kitchen windows, looking out over a lush orchard of different fruit trees. There were apples, oranges, plums, and even olives. It was a very beautiful view.

  He turned toward me at the sound of my footsteps on the tiled floor, and he didn’t even try to hide the hungry look which crossed his face as he took in my attire. I was wearing a pair of denim shorts, an orange tank which showed off my tanned skin, and the outfit was finished off by a pair of neon orange sports trainers. It was far too warm outside for any more clothes.

  “Are you ready to go?” He started for the door.

  “Do I get to choose where we go?” I asked. Following after him.

  He shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

  We stepped out of the comfortably air-conditioned house, and into the oppressive heat of the early afternoon. Ilya pointed at a huge black SUV, clicking the key fob in his hands to unlock the doors. I climbed into the passenger seat, and put my seatbelt on, while Ilya did the same on the driver side.

  As he pulled the car out of the vast driveway, he flicked the radio on, and asked me where I wanted to go.

  “The park,” I replied without hesitation.

  “The park?” He repeated.

  I frowned at him. “Why does that surprise you?”

  “I don’t know. I think I just expected you to say the mall.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest moodily. “I’m not a fucking bimbo, you know. There’s more to my life than designer clothes.”

  He chuckled. “Such as?”

  The moment I paused to think about my answer, I realized that he had won. What did I have in my life? Apart from my brothers’ whom I probably wouldn’t see again for a very long time. I’d never asked for my life to be the way it was. But I had just accepted it. Until now.

  “I didn’t choose my life, Ilya,” I murmured, turning to look out of the smoked glass window at the world passing by outside.

  “That was unfair of me, milaya. I know that you didn’t get to choose. You didn’t even get to choose your husband in the end.” He looked uncomfortably sorry.

  We arrived at the park, and Ilya pulled the car into a space at the front of a coffee stall. It was a stall which I happened to know sold the best cappuccino’s in the entire city. I jumped out of the car, and jogged over to the stall to place my order. Ilya slammed his door, and ran to catch me up; grabbing a hold of my elbow when he did.

  “Don’t run off like that again, or we go right back home,” he hissed in my ear, making the barista eye us nervously.

  Snatching my elbow back, I glared at him. How did he manage to make me feel two such extremely conflicting emotions when I was around him? One minute I wanted to hit him, and the next minute, I wanted him to drag me back into his bed.

  I had serious issues.

  “Do you want a coffee?” I nodded my head at the board as I spoke.

  He looked as though he was about to tell me off a little bit more. But then he seemed to change his mind; his scowl breaking into a devilishly handsome smile as he addressed the patiently waiting server.
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br />   “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

  The girl bit her lower lip, as her eyes traveled shamelessly over the artwork on Ilya’s arms. Then across his chest, and right the way up his body; until she was looking over the images detailed on his neck. But when her eyes lifted higher to meet his cold, black gaze, she paled and looked away quickly.

  “It won’t be long,” she murmured, as she turned to prepare our drinks, and I shook my head sulkily, in a mixture of confusion, and jealousy.

  Jealousy? What. The. Actual. Fuck?

  Noticing my discomfort, he smirked at me. “What’s wrong, princess?”

  I scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

  He stifled a laugh, and grabbed the offered coffees from the girl behind the counter. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she almost fell over the counter after him.

  “Urgh,” I huffed; snatching my cappuccino from the Lieutenant’s hand, and starting off toward the pond at the heart of the park—my favorite place to be.

  He quickly fell into step next to me, and we walked along the tree-lined pathway in an uncomfortable silence. I sipped at my coffee; fiercely regretting my decision to come out today. Locking myself away in Mariusz’s room would have been better than this awkward atmosphere.

  “What are you thinking, milaya?” His voice was softer now. He wasn’t teasing me anymore.

  “She liked you, “I mused aloud.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Is that jealousy?”

  “No,” I answered, far too quickly.

  He sipped his coffee, and waited for me to elaborate on my mood.

  “She was attracted to you, but she was afraid of you too.” I didn’t know how to explain it to him, and I knew that I sounded awkward.

  He seemed to consider what I’d said for a moment. “There’s a lot of women out there who are turned on by being afraid.”

  “There’s a lot of women out there who are crazy bitches,” I scoffed in reply.

  “That’s definitely something I can agree with you on, milaya.” He smiled before he finished his coffee, and threw the paper cup into a waiting bin. “So, where are we going?”

  “To the pond. It’s where I used to come and sit when I wanted peace, and tranquility. Although it won’t be as peaceful as I’d like at this time of day.”

  His next comment took me by surprise. “I’m sorry he hurt you again, Liselle.”

  My hand unconsciously went to my cheek, tracing the bruise left by Mariusz’s hand. “He said that you liked to hurt people too. Well, women anyway.”

  He snorted. “No, you were right the first time. I just like to hurt people, milaya. Although I like to hurt women in different ways than I like to hurt men.”

  We reached the seemingly endless blue sheen of the pond, and I sat myself down on a wooden bench. Ilya sat next to me, using up most of the rest of the seat, and I subconsciously shifted away from him a little.

  “I thought I didn’t frighten you?” He murmured.

  I laughed bitterly. “I’m stupidly brave, not bravely stupid. I just don’t trust you, Ilya.”

  “Except for when I have my cock buried in that tight, wet pussy of yours,” he whispered huskily, as we both watched an older couple with a stroller passing by. I felt a twinge of envy for their normality, their seemingly every day, basic lives.

  I gnawed on my lower lip. My core burned, and my body trembled in response to his words. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” He enquired innocently.

  “Pursuing a woman who belongs to someone else.” I focused my eyes on the crystal calm surface of the pond, determined to slow my breathing, and bring my thrashing emotions under control.

  He turned his head to look at me, and laughed loudly. “I’m fucking you, milaya. Not trying to marry you.”

  “Correction,” I snapped. “You’re not fucking me, you did fuck me. And it won’t happen again.”

  He reached out and tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “It will if I want it to.”

  My lip curled in disgust. “I didn’t realize that you and Mariusz had so much in common.”

  “I don’t need to take what I want from you, Liselle. I know that you want it just as much as I do.”

  Standing up quickly, I started back toward the car. “You’re an asshole. And I’m having my own room when we get back. There’s no one there who can hurt me now. Except for you,” I spat.

  The next few seconds happened in a blur. Ilya’s body smashed into mine—knocking me to the floor. His full weight covered my own body, as I registered the sound of a gunshot ringing out above my head. I cried out in fear as I realized that the bullet—which I thought had been meant for me—had lodged itself into Ilya’s upper arm.

  “Ilya, are you okay?” I whispered.

  “Sshh,” he hissed. Crouching protectively over my body. Then with astonishing speed, he reached for his gun; before flipping himself off me. At the same time as he pivoted around, he brought the gun up and fired. And a man who was running toward us, fell howling to the ground, clutching at his knee.

  I stared with wide eyes at the trickle of blood which was meandering down Ilya’s arm, while he snapped his head back and forth—looking for any further threat. But the park had emptied out rapidly—we were alone.

  Once he seemed satisfied that there was only one assailant, he approached the writhing heap on the ground. Kicking the man’s gun out of reach, Ilya pressed his boot onto the man’s chest, pushing him back against the floor.

  “Who sent you?” He growled at the injured would-be assassin.

  “I don’t know,” the man whimpered.

  Slowly shifting his foot until it was pressed against the man’s throat, Ilya repeated his question. “Who fucking sent you?”

  The man shook his head frantically—tears of pain and fear rolling down his deathly pale cheeks. “I’m contracted. I don’t see the client. Just the money. Please?”

  Ilya holstered his gun, and removed his boot from the attacker’s throat. Then he slowly crouched down until he was squatting next to the man’s head. “Do you know who I am?”

  “You’re the Lieutenant.” The man squeezed his eyes closed as he replied. He was clearly terrified.

  If Ilya noticed the man’s fear, he didn’t give a shit. He slipped a short knife from his boot, and without pausing, he stabbed it down into the center of the man’s left palm. The knife pierced right through flesh, and bone, popping out at the back to stab into the grass. And the man screamed in agony.

  “You knew who the fuck I was, and you still tried this shit?” Ilya growled.

  “I wasn’t aiming for you.” The man’s eyes rolled around in their sockets, pausing when they landed on me. And I shivered, knowing that I could be dead by now if Ilya hadn’t of taken the bullet which had been meant for me.

  “And you think that makes it any better?” Ilya murmured; before drawing the knife across the man’s throat.

  The blade must have been super sharp, because it cut my would-be assassin open to the bone. Blood began to pulse from the gaping opening in a crimson tide, and I turned my head away—fighting the desire to be sick.

  I had seen two men die before, but they had both been relatively clean gunshot deaths. Nothing as messy this.

  The sound of distant sirens had me scrambling to my feet. And Ilya leaped up to his at the same time; offering me a blood-soaked hand. I shook my head, and wrapped my arms around my body. Hugging myself comfortingly. I didn’t want his murderous hands anywhere near me, despite the fact that I knew he’d killed for me.

  “We need to get out of here, milaya.” He grabbed my elbow as he spoke, and we both ran for the distant SUV.

  I fired one last look back over my shoulder, shuddering at the sight of the twitching body on the ground—then Ilya tugged against my arm, dragging me toward the safety of the car.

  Ilya might be a monster, but he had just saved my life.

  20

  Liss


  I had offered to drive, but Ilya insisted that he was fine. And I was glad of it, because I was so consumed by shock that I wasn’t entirely sure I would have been able to navigate our way safely home anyway. But as soon as we pulled into the driveway of Mariusz’s house, I leaped out of the car and took Ilya by the arm.

  “We need to get you inside and get that wound checked. We should call a doctor.”

  He pulled his arm away from me. “Pfft, it’s graze, milaya. The bullet barely touched me.”

  We jogged into the empty house side-by-side, and Ilya nodded toward the kitchen. “There’s a medical kit under the sink. It will have everything needed to fix this up.”

  I darted into the kitchen and yanked open the under-sink cupboards, scanning the shelves for the medical kit. Spotting the green bag, I grabbed it and ran for the stairs which Ilya had disappeared up seconds before me. Fiercely hoping he was telling me the truth, and that the wound was only a graze.

  Just an hour ago I had been intent on finding my own room when we got back to this godforsaken house, but now I made my way to his bedroom without hesitation. He had just saved my life, and monster or not, I wouldn’t let him sit there and bleed alone.

  I pushed open the door, and my eyes searched the room for him, quickly locating him sitting on the edge of his bed, examining his injury. He had already stripped off his T-shirt—revealing his beautifully muscled, chest. But my gaze was drawn to the now crisp trail of rust which ran from his upper bicep, all the way down to his wrist.

  I sat down next to him, unzipping the medical kit, and pulling out everything I thought that I would need. First soaking a gauze pad in alcohol, and applying it to the tear in his flesh. Ilya hissed in a pained breath, but he said nothing.

  “Are you sure it only grazed your skin?” I asked. Afraid that the bullet could still be buried deep in his arm.

  Shifting position slightly, he pointed to a spot on his lower back, which was covered by part of a large tattoo of the grim reaper riding a skeletal looking horse. But when I looked closely, I could see a puckered mess of damaged skin beneath the ink. I gave him a questioning look.