by Bea Paige
A part of me wants him to, and yet…
Yet, there’s another part, a part that’s growing bigger with every passing moment that wants something different. To own such a man, someone so strong, powerful. To make him mine. To tame the demon within. I want that more.
But I know if I walk into that room, if I truly immerse myself in his world, I could lose myself permanently this time and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to survive it. Ivan hasn’t lied about who he is. He’s a man who sees what he wants and takes it and be damned to the consequences. If I let him in, he will break the last shards of the person who can survive in this world leaving behind a person who shouldn’t. Mustn’t.
Ivan’s fingertips slide across my collarbone, his mouth tracing the same path. The knots within my stomach tighten, whilst a warm heat pools between my legs. Half of me wants him, the other half is desperate to get away.
Inside an internal battle rages, and he knows it. He’s using my indecision against me.
I need to be stronger than this. I may have let Ivan and Anton see a glimpse of the old me in the dining room. I’d been so close, so close to letting her out once and for all.
I’d wanted to set her free.
For the briefest of moments, I almost had. Then Erik had entered, vulnerable, broken, desperate, and all I could think of doing was dance.
Snapping him out of his nightmare had been the only thought on my mind.
Liar! You knew what would happen if you danced. You want to be set free.
“No!” I push against Ivan’s chest, and he stumbles backwards. My response is to the voice in my head more than the feel of his body pressed against mine.
“No?” he questions, swallowing hard. His eyes narrow, the demon within him riled, rising to the challenge. Inside me, my own demon stretches, ready and willing to meet its match.
“No more,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat, desperately trying to quell the darkness in me.
“You don’t get to say that to me, Rose. You knew the consequence of your actions.” Ivan scowls, his eyes almost black in the dimly lit hallway.
“I did it for Erik. He would have hurt someone.”
“It doesn’t matter why you did it, it makes no difference to me now.”
“It matters to me,” I retort, pushing off the wall, trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs and the scrape of claws behind my ribcage.
“It’s too late. You’ve poked the demon, there’s no going back, Rose.”
“There is. I still don’t know about the red silk, I still don’t know what happens behind this door. We’ll call it even. I won’t ask, and you don’t get to take a damn thing.”
Even I’m impressed by the calmness of my voice because it really doesn’t represent the turmoil inside.
“No. No fucking way!” Ivan snarls, and in one step he’s gripping my wrists and forcing my arms above my head. “It’s too damn late, Rose.”
“Fuck you,” I snap back, twisting my body beneath him, but he forces his knee between my legs, pressing his whole length against me. The brute strength of him keeping me trapped.
He’s aroused… and god help me, so am I.
This, this dangerous passion igniting between us, this is what I’m trying to avoid. Like a wildfire, this kind of passion is all consuming. It devours everything in its path leaving nothing but charred remains behind.
It took me the best part of fourteen years to recover from the last time I’d been consumed so thoroughly. Roman’s beautiful but twisted smile enters my thoughts at that exact same moment.
“Let me go, Ivan!” I shout.
“No. I won’t,” he growls, squeezing my wrists painfully hard. “I can’t.”
“Ivan, I don’t want this. I won’t survive it this time, please.” My words break on a sob, but I swallow the pain and press my eyes shut against the darkness of his stare and the memory of Roman’s hand closed around my throat.
His body shudders against mine as a single tear slides down my face.
I’m so close to giving in, so close to letting myself mould against him. I’m staring into the mouth of a fucking lion and I’m about to let it devour me.
“Don’t do that. Don’t fucking break,” he growls, breathing hard.
His chest expands against my own, and though his words seem comforting, he still doesn’t let me go.
I’m still trapped, inside the darkness cracks.
Give in. Let the demon devour you.
“Please,” I whimper again, but this time I’m not sure whether I’m asking for him to let me go or asking him to fuck me.
“What are you afraid of? Is it me?” Ivan asks, brushing his lips against my forehead. It’s a tender gesture and so contrasting to the heavy, oppressive weight of his body against mine.
I shake my head. “It’s not you I’m afraid of, it’s me…”
Ivan stills, his breath fluttering over my skin. My pulse is ragged, a heady mix of lust, desire and fear bleeds into the air around us.
“I’m afraid of the demon in me,” I whimper.
Ivan makes a strangled noise as his hands fall away from my wrists. For a moment I think he’s going to let me go, but what he does next has my legs buckling beneath me. Ivan slides his hands into my hair, yanks my head back and crashes his lips against mine.
He kisses like a man possessed by the devil himself. He kisses as though I am the oxygen he breathes, as though he will drown if he doesn’t. His tongue probes my mouth, his teeth scrape against my own. There’s no tenderness in this kiss. I don’t think he’s capable of it.
Right in this moment, I’m not even sure I care.
If this was a horror movie, if this was a story of two twisted creatures, then Ivan and I would be nothing more than dark entities shredding the skin of their outer shell and devouring each other. The darkness within me cracks and splinters as the Rose of old begins to unfurl once more. Ivan’s demon calls to mine and I know if one of us doesn’t back away there’ll be no saving either of us.
I kiss him back with the same animalistic need. My own desire breaking free. Our tongues battle for dominance, my hands reach up and grasp his head, pulling him closer. He groans into my mouth as I spread my legs wide, rocking my hips against his thigh. A rumble releases from his mouth as his hands fall lower. Ivan grasps my breast and squeezes hard, pinching my nipple. In response, I bite his lower lip, enough to draw blood.
Something in me releases, something powerful.
Something dominant.
Using my body weight and the element of surprise I force Ivan around so that I have him pinned against the wall instead. The sound that escapes his throat is a cross between a growl and a whimper. It’s a sound that seems to surprise him too, given the way he pulls back sharply, his eyes widening with shock.
I pull his head back towards mine, not giving him a moment to even contemplate what’s happening. Then I practically climb up his body, my legs wrapping around his waist as I consume him with my mouth. Ivan’s strong arms hold me in place, pinning me against him, but even though he easily could, Ivan doesn’t flip us back around.
I can feel him surrender to me.
This kiss between us started out one way, with Ivan very much leading, and now, now I can feel his muscles relax as a long sigh parts his lips. He’s allowing me to take charge and he’s fucking enjoying it.
“IVAN!” A shrill voice shouts.
Ivan forces me off as though burnt. He’s panting heavily, just like I am. Neither of us can remove our gaze from the other. Everything about him calls to me.
Dangerous, passionate, powerful, deadly.
He’s all of that, yes. But there’s more, he’s broken, vulnerable too, and I want nothing more than to cut myself on his jagged edges.
“Ivan, what are you doing?!”
At the other end of the hallway is Ms Hadley. I don’t need to look at her to know that she’s calculating how quickly she can be rid of me. Earlier, when I’d arrived, she hadn’t just warned
me away from Ivan, she’d threatened me with my past, told me that if I didn’t obey her then my dirty little secrets will be revealed not only to Ivan, but to the whole ballet world.
I don’t know how she found out, but she did, and if she has her way, the gossip mongers in the village will finally get to hear the truth after all these years.
She briefly looks at me. Her eyes narrowing as she approaches us both. I can read her thoughts clearly. She’s ready to ruin me. She will ruin me if I give in to Ivan, to myself.
“Fran called, where’s Erik? What happened?” she snaps, striding along the hallway towards us.
Ivan pulls himself up straight, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, restraining himself. I know how close he is to reaching over and pulling me against him, because I feel the same way too. I never thought I would say that I’m glad to see Ms Hadley, but right now I am.
“What happened?” she repeats, a thread of warning lacing her words.
“Erik’s been taken to hospital. He suffered an episode. He stabbed himself…” Ivan says, flinching at the look of disgust Ms Hadley gives him.
“And neither you nor Anton thought to call me?”
Ivan grits his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping.
“He’s my boy, Ivan. You should’ve called me immediately.”
The way she says ‘my boy’ has my skin crawling. Ivan doesn’t appear to notice, too wrapped up in his own guilt to recognise the ownership in her voice. A feeling of disgust washes over me as a loud warning bell sounds inside my head.
“I’ll take you to him now,” Ivan says, striding past Ms Hadley and down the hallway.
He doesn’t even glance my way. I move to follow him, but Ms Hadley holds out her arm in front of me, preventing me from moving.
“This is your fault. I warned you.”
“I had nothing to do with this,” I respond tightly.
“I’m not talking about Erik. I’m talking about Ivan. He doesn’t need another manipulative bitch in his life. I will ruin you if you fuck with him.”
My head snaps around as I look at the twisted snarl of her lips and in that moment, I understand her, I get it. As her beady eyes regard me, I see very clearly into her fucked up core. The demon inside me bares its teeth.
“You’re right, he doesn’t. None of them do. So let this be a warning to you, Ms Hadley. I’m not a pushover. I’m not someone who is scared by empty threats. You and I both know there are too many secrets buried in these walls for you to reveal mine without consequences,” I say, giving her a warning of my own.
“You wouldn’t dare…”
“Try me,” I retort, pushing past her and striding after Ivan.
The truth is, I would never reveal the secrets Ivan holds within that locked room. I’m nothing if not loyal, perhaps to a fault. Being with Roman proved that much at least.
“You have one more chance to do the right thing,” Ms Hadley murmurs as she hurries to catch up with me.
Ivan pushes through the door at the end of the corridor and we lose sight of him for a second. I stop walking, Ms Hadley pulls up sharp.
“I’m taking the job, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” I respond, only realising in that second what my decision is.
“You can’t. You mustn’t,” she hisses, her gaze flicking to the door then back again.
“I’ve already made my mind up, so back off!”
“You’ll regret that decision, Rose. Mark my words.”
I laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, Ms Hadley, I have you marked. The only bitch manipulating these men appears to be you.”
Her eyebrows rise at that remark, doubt crawling across her features. Like everyone else in my past, she’s misjudged me. I’m not a wallflower or a fucking pushover and she can think again if she believes she can blackmail me into backing off.
“You know nothing about me or these men,” she retorts.
“I know enough,” I respond, stepping around her and pushing open the door. As I step out into the entrance hall, I’m more than certain this house holds secrets far darker than anyone would care to admit.
Chapter Sixteen
I’ve been sitting in the darkness of my front room, mulling over the evening’s events for the past couple of hours. It’s well past midnight and despite the time, and the exhaustion I feel, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking back to Ms Hadley’s warning and my response to it. She’s dangerous, I sensed that when I first met her, and know that for certain now. Yet, she’s such a big part of their lives, the men of Browlace Manor, and I’m not sure they sense the wickedness in her like I do.
But it isn’t just Ms Hadley that’s keeping me awake, it’s Ivan too.
Tonight, I had allowed the darkness to show itself and I’d enjoyed it. Ivan believed that I was strong enough to fight his advances, I thought I was as well.
Now I know I’m not.
The way he’d kissed me. I’ve never been kissed like that. Not even Roman had kissed me so thoroughly, without restraint. He’d always been so particular. A kiss from him had been honed, deadly. The kiss of death, I used to think, and in some way, it had been.
Ever since Roman, the only thing that has ever been able to keep my past at bay is ballet. I may not have been the most talented, never advancing past the corps de ballet, but I’d loved it nonetheless. It kept me sane when my past tormented me. It kept me centred when thoughts of Roman rocked me. It kept the demon from escaping.
Now, now my only saviour has opened the door to another demon… and this one is determined to make me his.
I lean my head back against the armchair and close my eyes for the hundredth time this evening, willing sleep, knowing it won’t come.
With a sigh I give up, instead I watch the rain as it patters against my window. The street lamp outside is reflected in every drop that slides down the glass pane, like hundreds of little golden jewels cascading from the sky. My eyes catch something beyond the glittering raindrops, a shadow. A man-shaped shadow.
I sit forward in my seat, my heart all too loud in my ears. Has Ivan returned to finish what he started? A sharp rap at the door has me standing abruptly, pain in my lower back making me draw in a breath. I’m already paying for dancing earlier. Those few steps will cause me days of pain, especially since I hadn’t stretched beforehand. But none of that really matters now. The pain within, without, none of it.
I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
I hear another sharp rap at my door and I hurry to open it. May as well get this encounter over with. Ivan won’t leave unless he says his peace, the last time he came here he practically battered the door down. With carefully schooled emotions, I pull open the door.
Except it isn’t Ivan, it’s Anton.
“Rose. May I come in?” he says, asking for permission instead of barging in like Ivan had a few nights ago. That simple gesture of respect tells me a hell of a lot about the man Anton is.
“I… sure,” I say, stepping aside to allow him entrance.
“Is everything okay? How’s Erik?” I ask, leading him to my kitchen.
I flip on the light switch and automatically fill the kettle with water, if only to give me something to do with my hands. Anton’s silence is unnerving. He’s still covered in blood, his shirt stiff where it’s dried.
“Anton? How’s Erik?” I question again.
He takes a seat on a kitchen stool and places his head in his hands. His shoulders are rounded, his body slumping. My throat constricts. Surely, he isn’t… dead?
“Stable,” he says eventually, his voice muffled. He lifts his head to look at me as I let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness.”
“Fortunately for him he hit muscle and not any internal organs. He’s out of surgery now. Ivan and Ms Hadley are staying until he wakes up.”
My mouth presses in a hard line at that. I know she’s his mother, but I don’t want her anywhere near Erik, Ivan nor Anton for that matter.
“Ms Hadley is pretty
shaken. It’s the first time I’ve seen her so worried. It could’ve been so much worse.”
I almost snort at that. Worried? That would mean she cares, that she loves, and honestly, I’m not sure she’s capable of either.
“Can I ask why you all still call her Ms Hadley? I mean you’ve known her for years. It just seems an odd thing to do. Why not call her by her first name?” I ask. What I really want to know is why none of them can see the poison in her heart. Maybe one day I’ll ask, I guess that day is not today.
“Because she insisted on it when we were kids, and it stuck,” he responds, shrugging. “Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t really. I was just curious,” I say, placing two mugs on the counter and popping a teabag in both. The kettle is still boiling so I rest against the counter opposite Anton. He looks as exhausted as I feel.
“Thank you for coming here and letting me know how Erik is. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence stretches out between us, neither of us trying to fill it. Instead I busy myself with making the tea, pouring the boiling water into the mugs and adding milk to both. I place the bowl of sugar on the counter and help myself to a spoonful. Anton merely picks up the mug and takes a sip, sugar clearly not his preference.
We both sit waiting for the other to speak, but time stretches out, the only sounds filling the space is the clock ticking on the wall. It’s already half past midnight.
Normally in situations like these I’d try to fill the silence with useless conversation, but honestly, I’m not even sure what to say. Anton is a little bit of a mystery, and he unnerves me, more than a little actually. Here in close quarters with him, without another person to break up the strange tension, I begin to feel a little uneasy. Which is ridiculous given that I was happy to be in his company at dinner not more than a few hours ago. He had seemed ‘normal’ then, like a regular guy happy to entertain his friend’s guest. Now, normal seems to have been replaced with odd once more.