Dark Desire

by Lauren Smith

  She stopped just inside her bedroom and stood for a long moment, uncertain. Vadym had forced her to sleep naked on the floor, and she had been conditioned to obey that rule, but that wasn’t something she had to deal with anymore. Yet part of her still needed a set of rules to follow. Rules were almost always safe. When she obeyed, nothing too bad happened to her, at least not immediately. Elena didn’t want to feel that way, but the need for rules was still there, like an anxious hum at the back of her mind.

  Shaking off the flutter of thoughts in her head, she changed into a pair of jersey cotton shorts and an overlarge T-shirt. It wasn’t sexy—she didn’t want sexy. Comfort was what mattered. Then she pulled back the covers and climbed in. The bed was still way too soft, but she remembered Dimitri saying she couldn’t sleep on the floor. A rule. It made it easier. She wriggled a bit, trying to get comfortable, but it wasn’t easy when she wasn’t dead on her feet.

  She was nearly asleep by the time Dimitri opened her bedroom door and stepped quietly into the room. The bright moonlight illuminated him as he stopped beside her bed. He unbuttoned his shirt, and her eyes fixed on the movement, fascinated.

  “You aren’t asleep,” he said softly.

  She shook her head. “I’m still not used to the bed.” She rolled on her back to stare at the ceiling. She wasn’t sure how much clothing he was going to remove, and she felt bad for wanting to watch him when nothing would come of it. The covers shifted on the bed, and he eased down beside her on the mattress. There was plenty of space for them both, even when she stretched out in the middle of the bed.

  “Do you want a certain side, or—?”

  A chuckle rumbled through him and made the bed quiver ever so slightly. Then he rolled on his side to face her. “Kiska, you are adorable.”

  They were a foot apart, yet it felt like a wide chasm existed between them. She wanted to be closer. He propped his head on one hand, and the sheets pooled low around his waist, letting her eyes have their fill of his bare upper body. He was built for strength, built for power, and it should have terrified her, but it didn’t.

  “What’s this?” She pointed to a knotted scar on his left shoulder.

  “A bullet wound. An old one.”

  “A wound there would do major damage, wouldn’t it? What happened?” She stared at the spot, wondering what horrific circumstance had caused that wound.

  “It did. I underwent two separate surgeries to fix the nerve damage. It’s back to about ninety-five percent of its strength now.”

  “How did it happen? Can you tell me?”

  Dimitri took her hand and held it in his own. He then placed her hand on his chest in silent encouragement to touch him.

  “It’s a long story and a rather grim one. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  “Yes.” Strangely, she wasn’t put off by the idea of a story that possibly didn’t have a happy ending. She had suffered so much that she felt she could take a little more, even if it was hearing someone else’s painful story.

  “I was young when my mother died, as I told you, but what I didn’t tell you was that I was there when she was killed . . .”

  Elena’s stomach knotted. Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear this.

  “My mother didn’t believe in the Soviet government.”

  “She was against the Communist Party, you mean.”

  “Yes. She was devoted to the people of Russia, and to a way of life lost to us. She . . .” He hesitated. “She performed tasks, delivered things, if you understand what I mean.”

  Elena was pretty sure she did. His mother had been a spy.

  “One night, as my mother brought me home from the market . . .” His blue eyes darkened. “We’d spent hours in a line for food. The old days were tough. Times are still difficult now, in fact in many ways worse. I remember the smell of the bread. It was so enticing, and my stomach wouldn’t stop growling. My eyes were closed. I heard the rush of footsteps coming toward us, and then my mother made a sound, a soft groan as she slumped to the ground beside me. It was dark, just after dusk, and I remember looking back, seeing a man in a dark coat rushing away. At first, I didn’t understand what had happened. I turned to my mother. She lay facedown on the concrete, the tips of her fingers on one hand touching the back tire of our car. I dropped the bag of groceries so that I could kneel down beside her. I remember that so vividly still . . .”

  Elena couldn’t breathe. She was there with him, trapped in the slowly building nightmare of his past.

  “Her throat had been slit. Blood pooled out, thick and dark, staining the tips of my shoes.” Dimitri’s voice didn’t waver, it was as though he had told this story a thousand times, yet she wondered if he really had or not. From the open, raw look in his eyes, she wondered if maybe this was the first time he’d actually said the words to someone other than himself.

  “I ran after the man . . . I’m not sure why. Most children at my age would have stayed by their mother. But I barreled after him and latched onto his leg as he reached his car. He spun on me, stunned to look down and find a child was holding him back. He slapped me, but I didn’t let go. That’s when he pulled a handgun with a silencer out of his coat and pressed it against my shoulder and fired.”

  “He shot a child?” Elena nearly sat up as a fresh wave of horror washed over her.

  “It hurt like hell. I passed out and came to an hour later in a hospital. It took my father nearly half a day to find me. My mother’s murder was buried in bureaucracy, and even my hospital records were edited to say that the cause of my injury was unknown.”

  “What? Why would they change something like that?”

  Dimitri still held her hand, and he continued to hold it against his chest. “When a government wishes to control people, they do not only silence the voices of the opposition—they erase them. The Russian government is a master of painting the erasing of truths in a positive light, calling it social and political progress, when in fact erasing history is the very opposite of progress. Even though it puts the ones I love in danger, I stand against that ideology every day.” He let out a weary sigh. “Even now, such ideas spread beyond the borders of Russia . . . even here . . .” He didn’t say any more, but she understood. The world had started to change in the last few years and not for the better.

  To know that Dimitri wasn’t afraid to fight, even if it was a fight he would probably lose, told her something important about him. He was loyal to people and causes he believed in.

  “What happened after she died?” Elena moved her fingertips over his chest, and he let her explore him. There was a sense of security in him, and the way she could talk about hard things while having the ability to comfort him with her touch.

  “Losing my mother nearly broke my father. He spent ten years trying to find the man who killed my mother and almost killed me. But the deeper he sank into his grief and lust for revenge, the more he forgot that I was still alive, that I still needed a father.” There was pain hidden in his voice, but he couldn’t hide it in his eyes.

  “Is he . . .?”

  “Alive? No, he was killed in a car bomb explosion when he tracked down my mother’s murderer. From what others have told me, he had one chance to take the man out, and the bomb’s remote trigger failed. He chose to set it off manually. He hid in the back of the target’s car and waited.”

  Elena didn’t want to picture it, yet somehow she could. He would have looked like an older version of Dimitri as he stayed hidden in the back of the car, waiting, heart pounding as he made the choice to die to avenge his wife’s murder rather than stay alive for his son.

  “This is why I am afraid to try to give you what you ask,” Dimitri said.

  “What do you mean?”

  His eyes closed, and she lost herself counting his long lashes fanned out on his cheeks.

  “There’s a darkness inside me, kiska. My life has been full of pain. It has shaped me in part to need things I cannot ask of you. You aren’t made for my darkness.”

&nb
sp; “Don’t you think I have darkness in me?” she asked quietly. Her hand had traveled to his lower stomach and paused, resting against the steel-hard perfection of his abdomen.

  “You are light, pure and bright. There is no darkness in you.” Dimitri said this with such conviction that it surprised her.

  “You’re wrong. Let me prove it to you.” She sat up in bed. “Before Vadym . . . before he took me, I was not some sheltered virgin who dreamt of fairy-tale princes. I had hungers, Dimitri, ones that align closely with your own.”

  At this he sat up as well. “No, kiska. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” He growled the words as his dominant side began to emerge.

  Elena controlled her suddenly fast breathing. “Maybe I need to prove it to myself.” She slipped out of bed and left the room. She went into his room next door, and she found what she was looking for before she returned to him. He had gotten out of bed too and was standing in her doorway. His eyes fell to what she held in her hand, a gray silk tie. She extended her hand, offering it to him.

  “Kiska . . . ,” he warned in that addictive voice.

  “I just want to try it. Just the restraint . . .” She wanted him to be the one who held her down, who controlled her. If she could trust him and trust the experience, it would be a huge leap forward for her.

  She pressed the tie to his chest. Then she skirted around him and walked back to the bed. She climbed in and lay on her back, waiting. He turned around slowly, the silk tie glowing pale and silver in the moonlight from the wall of windows that faced the sea.

  Dimitri coiled the tie around his hand, pulling the fabric taut. It was similar to what Vadym had used to do with a leather belt. Her heart slammed against her rib cage, but she didn’t take her eyes off Dimitri. He wasn’t Vadym, and when he was near her, she felt the way a woman was supposed to feel when she was with a man she desired.

  He approached the bed, storm clouds still hovering in his eyes. Even in this simple action, she was mesmerized by his raw, commanding power.

  “Come here.” He pointed to the side of the bed. Elena sat up and moved to the edge and let her legs drop off the side.

  “Hands.” His tone was gentle but brooked no argument, just the way a Dom in her deepest, most secret fantasies would sound.

  Elena extended her wrists out to him, and he pulled the tie from around his clenched fist. Then he began to wrap the silk around her wrists, binding them together. He pulled the tie tight enough to trap her hands together, but when he was finished knotting the silk, she could feel proper blood flow. Vadym had never . . . She shook herself free of any more thoughts of that man. She was with Dimitri now, and that was all that mattered.

  “How do you feel?” he asked. “Red, yellow, or green?”

  Those words were far easier to use while her mind was flooded with thoughts and reactions. “Green . . .”

  “You don’t sound sure.” He sat beside her on the bed.

  “Green with a hint of yellow,” she clarified. “Could we . . . try more?” Her heart was racing as her mind caught up to what her body wanted.

  “How much more?”

  She bit her lip. It was so embarrassing to explain what she wanted. A good Dom would have been able to just act and let her slow things down when she got to a point she wasn’t ready for. But these were far from normal circumstances for them both.

  “Um, what if we just sort of keep going and I’ll tell you when it’s too much?”

  Dimitri’s brows pulled together into a scowl. He looked like he hated the sound of it, but Elena didn’t want to stop. In the light of day, she would never be able to ask him to do this, but the night had given her some power back, and she didn’t want to waste it.

  “Please, Dimitri.”

  He held her bound hands and stroked the backs of her knuckles in light little caresses.

  “I shouldn’t agree to this,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

  “I need to see how far I can go.”

  He finally answered with a slow nod and got up from the bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  He was at the door when he spoke. “To get more ties.”

  8

  Elena held her breath as Dimitri stepped back into her bedroom with more silk ties. He tossed them onto the bed before he bent in front of her and lifted her to her feet by tugging gently on her bound wrists. He walked her to the glass windows facing the sea.

  “Watch the ocean,” he commanded, then stepped behind her. Little apprehensive tremors moved through her. She didn’t like her back exposed.

  “Dimitri . . .”

  “Kiska, you will use red, yellow, or green when I do something you have a strong reaction to, good or bad, do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He curled a hand around her waist. “Did Vadym order you to call him master?”

  She flinched at the vile, debasing memories that resurfaced.

  “What would you prefer to call me when we play this game?” Dimitri’s words were as silken as the ties binding her wrists.

  “Sir,” Elena said. She had always liked that. It was respectful and yet still playful.

  “Then from now until we are finished tonight, you call me sir.” The hand on her waist held her still. His long, strong fingers held her as he stepped closer to her from behind. The heat of his bare chest warmed her back through the T-shirt she wore, making her feel naked.

  “Now, watch the ocean and tell me how you feel.” That was her only warning before he pressed his lips to her ear in a light, sensual kiss.

  “G—green,” she whispered. His mouth moved lower to the sensitive spot just behind her ear. She jolted as a bolt of arousal ripped through her. That spot had always been her biggest weakness.

  “Kiska?” he growled before nipping that spot and flicking his tongue against it. Waves of sensual hunger surged through her, unstoppable, making her desperate for more.

  “Green, green, green . . . ,” she panted so fast it sounded like a wild chant.

  Dimitri chuckled. His hand on her waist moved so that he now held her bound hands by encircling her wrists with his fingers.

  “You are under my power now, kiska. I hold you in my hands.” The words should have terrified her, but they didn’t.

  He waited for her response, and she whispered, “Green.” Only then did he continue. He pressed her more firmly against the window, his body covering hers from behind, caging her. She felt his arousal dig into the cleft of her ass. They both wore clothes there, her shorts and his briefs, but it didn’t matter—she swore she could feel every inch of that most masculine part of him. Would he go too far and take her? The thought scared her, but not as much as she expected it to.

  “Do you like knowing that you belong to me? That you are safe in my arms?”

  “Yes, sir.” She did feel safe, and it made no logical sense. After the hell she had endured, she should be too afraid to want this again. But didn’t she deserve to have her life back? Didn’t that include her physical desires as well? She shouldn’t let Vadym destroy what she’d loved about sex, about the domination without pain, the gentle guidance a good and caring Dom could give her, so she didn’t overthink sex the way she was doing right now . . .

  He kissed her neck again. “You are thinking too hard. There are only two of us in this room, do you understand?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. That’s what she needed. He could help her focus on what she wanted . . . just this, just the two of them. He rewarded her by turning her away enough from the window to claim her lips with his. His mouth worked magic, that slow, playful, teasing kiss sending all other thoughts far away. There was only this man, this room, this kiss. But she needed more, she needed to feel what she hadn’t felt in more than two months.

  She wriggled, tugging on her wrists, and he tightened his grip, silently reminding her who was in charge of her body. “Please, sir, I need . . .”

  “Yes, kiska, what do you need?”

  “I ne
ed to come, please . . .” It was so easy, so natural to ask him, and if she had been thinking more clearly, she would have been wondering why that was, but she was too lost in her desires at the moment.

  “Please what?” He bit gently into the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, like a wolf pinning his mate in place. The wild thought only heightened the sharp pangs of her arousal. She clenched her thighs together, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Please, sir, please use your hand to make me come.” She wasn’t ready for anything but that, but it would still be a victory she never thought she would have again.

  Dimitri’s sensual chuckle almost made her smile as well. “Because you asked so sweetly, I cannot deny you.” He made this darkly erotic game sweet and safe. He made it exactly what she needed most.

  He continued to kiss her neck as he pushed one of his feet between hers, forcing her to step wider apart. Then he trailed a large palm down her body, skimming over her collarbones, then her breasts, down to her soft belly. His fingers snaked beneath the waistband of the shorts and panties she wore. While his hand was gentle, she felt the rough scrape of his fingers over her skin. His hands were so strong, a testament to a life lived fully. It felt amazing. When his fingers reached the top of her mound, the hand that grasped her bound wrists shifted slightly and adjusted its grip.

  “And now, kiska?”

  “Green,” she whispered, then held her breath as he moved his fingers down her folds, which were already slick with her desire.

  “Good. You will tell me if that changes.”

  “Yes, sir.” Elena wished there was a color better than green as he parted her folds and traced the sensitive skin with his fingers. Her legs trembled, and she whimpered.

  “Are you ready for me to touch you?” he asked.

  She nodded frantically. She needed his touch to erase the memories of all others who had come before. She wanted only him to ever touch her again.