A Bedtime Story

by L. C. Moon

  He laid himself by her side, his body turned toward her, and let his fingers glide on the soft skin of her back.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked her, his voice husky with carnal desire.

  She panted but, keeping her eyes locked on his, didn’t answer.

  “Laura…” He shook his head reproachfully, a wicked smile on his face. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

  Her eyes widened, panic rising to another level, but still, she kept silent.

  He turned her on her back; his naked body hovered over hers, his fingers trailing her every curve. “Tell me. Tell me what you’re so scared of,” he whispered in her ear.

  One night, all she wanted, was one night, of pleasure, with her husband. She would get it, she would always get her pleasure, if she was willing to accept the cost. She closed her eyes, a lonely tear falling down her cheek. She would always accept the cost, no matter how high. She would not only accept it, she would willingly seek it, regardless of the tears, fears, and pain that inevitably came with it. No cost was too great. In a perverse way, she thought, weren’t they perfect for each other? Who else but her Monster could truly understand her broken soul, meet her in her madness, find her in the depth of her despair, and somehow, alleviate her from it.

  His fingers found the pulsating nerve between her legs. His face remained close to her, his nose and lips tracing every line of her face, breathing her in, leaving sensual kisses on their path.

  “You,” she gasped, as tears tumbled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and felt the gates open, her last fortress fall. “You... I fear you... I’m afraid of all the ways you can hurt me…” Her voice was jerky, her breathing frantic as his fingers maintained the sweet torture.

  The high was stronger than any drug, the euphoria more addictive, as she lay terrified and helpless to the unwholesome pleasure, baring her all, releasing all the monsters under her bed, to the one she knew could fight them off.

  Kayne kept playing with her, kept the rhythm slow and steady, felt his fingers dripping with her juices. He pulled his head back and stared intently at her face, knowing that in this moment, he walked the secret path to the darkest recesses of her soul.

  “I’m afraid… I’m afraid of… how much you can hurt me… I’m afraid of…” Even in her state, the last words came to her lips with a twist in her heart. “When you’ll stop...”

  She cried as her body shattered in a mind-numbing orgasm. He did not smirk as usual, when he’d make her come on his twisted terms. His eyes were dark and intense, resting on her drained body. He lay on top of her.

  “Look at me.”

  She didn’t want to, not after her confession. She wanted to remain in the sweet oblivion engulfing her. She obeyed.

  He cursed his sealed lips. He only opened them to kiss her with the hopeless passion of a cursed lover. Wordlessly, he willed her to understand what his guarded heart wouldn’t allow him to betray. He pulled and tugged at her, possessively manipulating her body to quench his thirst for her. With a guttural sound, he collapsed on top of her. He pulled her body close, keeping her face to his. With his hand, he caressed her face, watching her eyes close serenely under his touch.

  She opened her eyes again and brought her own hand to his face, then clasped her fingers shut at the last instant.

  “Do you not like it when I touch you?” she asked softly, lowering her gaze to his chest.

  He sighed, lifted her chin, and leaned his head, seeking her eyes. “Of course I do.”

  “Why did you stop me?”

  He shook his head, sensing the hurt in her innocent question. “Because I’m a fool.”

  She looked back down, a sad smile forming on her lips. Her voice hushed, she met his eyes again. “You killed her…”

  This time, he knew exactly who she was talking about. Holding her stare, his eyes inscrutable, his answer was remorseless. “Yes.” “Why?” she breathed, hearing his voice in her head. For you, because of you, because she hurt you, because… I love you.

  “She betrayed me.”

  Laura closed her eyes, feeling the bitterness in her smile at her foolishness. “Did you love her?”

  He considered her question. Of all people, how could she think that? He waited for her to open her eyes, to meet his intense gaze. He shook his head. “No, Laura. I didn’t love her.”

  She nodded, bitterness still lingering in her expression.

  “Natasha knew about her... and Dimitri… She befriended her. She told me… she… befriends her husband’s whores…” Her voice broke. She looked up at him, pain twisting her features. “I could never do that…”

  He kept watching her, sharing in her pain, knowing he was the cause of it, knowing he couldn’t stop it. “I don’t want you to do that.”

  “Then what?” she pleaded, her voice quavering with emotion.

  He shut his eyes, could see the impasse awaiting them. Dimitri had spoken to him at the party earlier. He’d promoted him, a wedding gift he called it. Kayne was now to overlook all aspects of the operation, act as his counselor. He knew Dimitri too well to be honored. It was a test, a chance for him to prove his loyalty, to prove that his marriage would not be a threat to the Organization. He could no longer benefit from being the lone wolf; he would now be directly responsible for all the trades, including the prostitution rings and sex trafficking. The implication was way beyond his participation at some morally questionable parties. His very survival would now depend on his capabilities as the counselor. Having other women was the last thing on his mind and was now ultimately inevitable as new merchandise had to be sampled and tested by the counselor, representing the boss’s interests.

  How could he explain this to her, how would he break this new reality to her? Tomorrow, he would tell her; tomorrow, he would step in as the underboss. Tonight, he would just be her husband. Facing his silence, a silence more revealing than any answer, Laura turned away from him, staring vacantly at the ceiling. There was no answer, none he could give to appease her and remain truthful. Kayne Malkin didn’t lie, so he remained silent in the face of her despair. She felt her heart harden. Why delay the inevitable. Without looking at him, she carelessly declared, “You should go back to your party.”

  His eyes narrowed. Did she think she was the only one to suffer? That her pain allowed her to dismiss him as he did his whores? He wanted to strike her, to strangle her and holler his own torment at her. He swallowed his anger and simply nodded, his eyes dripping poison. Without a word, he got off the bed and picked up his pants and shirt thrown carelessly on the floor, not bothering with the jacket. He was still buttoning up his shirt when he calmly closed the door behind him. He heard her break into a desperate sob on the other side of the wall.

  Laura regretted her words the moment she felt his weight shift on the mattress, felt the emptiness of him heavier, more tangible than any other truth. She wanted to jump off the bed and throw her naked body in his way. Instead, she watched him leave while pinned to the bed she had made and now had to lie in by herself, in her oppressing solitude. Why not delay the inevitable? Why had she forbade herself this one night with him, their wedding night? Tomorrow, he could have his whores. Tomorrow, he could slaughter and destroy. She would even wave him off and send kisses from the port. Just let her have him for this one night, she prayed with all she had, to heaven and hell, to whomever would answer first. She would trade it all, for this one night.

  She jumped from the bed, frantic, reached for the torn wedding dress, and pulled it hastily over her shoulders. Her bare back fully exposed, she rushed for the door. Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe she could still find him, maybe, maybe, maybe…

  She swung the door open wildly and stopped right in her tracks, feeling her heart shatter, her chest collapse. He was there, leaning on the wall facing the door. He just stood there watching her, his face impenetrable.

  “Kayne…” she cried, relieved, crazed. “Kayne… Kayne…” she repeated his name over and over again, as
if uttering an arcane prayer with healing powers.

  With whatever strength she had left, she threw herself in his arms. “Forgive me… forgive me…” she cried softly in his ears.

  He tightened his hold on her, feeling his chest swelling with hurt. “No. Forgive me.”

  He was apologizing for it all. For everything he already put her through. For everything he would still put her through, knowing he was too selfish, too rotten, to ever push her away. Knowing she would always come back to him, no matter what he did. Knowing he would always be there, waiting to collect her, all the pieces of her, and put her back together, until the next time she broke apart in his hands.

  Their lips frantically sought each other, their tongues mingling with desperate hunger. He dragged her back into the room, kicking the door shut behind them. He slammed her bare back against the wall and felt her cry out with pain in his mouth. She wound her arms around him as he lifted the skirt of her dress and unzipped his pants. He wrapped her legs around his, and he fucked her, mercilessly, with all the raw emotion he felt. With anger and passion, lust and regret, with the animalistic hunger she ignited in him and the cursed desire afflicting him.

  They fell asleep clinging to each other, every inch of their bodies touching, with no other words needing to be exchanged. Morning come, he was gone.

  Day-76

  Kayne left before sunrise. He could never face her following those stolen moments of intimacy. The Kayne who fell asleep in her arms was not the one who would awaken by her side. He’d been at peace with himself before Laura. Now the wild wolf bared its teeth to the emerging dog wanting to be domesticated. The fight was unbalanced, raging on the wolf’s long-established territory. He reluctantly let go of his sleeping bride, kissed her on the forehead, and saw her smile in her sleep before he left her side. Just like in her beloved book, Kayne could never fully embrace his conflicting sides, though he would not let one destroy the other. Every kindness, every moment of tenderness would inevitably be followed by his own retreat into the wilderness, into his domain. Kayne belonged to the Organization, not to a loving home. Yet he belonged to Laura, not the faceless women who pleasured him in ways he would never get from Laura, ways he would never want from Laura.

  He had asked Lucas to drive his new bride home, and stayed behind at the Drugov residence. A party was being thrown at the second mansion in his honor, for the promotion. Dimitri and he would go together; the announcement would be made.

  ***

  Laura felt a pang at waking alone, looked, without belief, for a note she didn’t find. When Lucas drove her home, it was already getting late. She hadn’t seen Kayne all day, had spent it with Natasha who informed her that Kayne was busy with Dimitri, but did not go into further detail.

  Upon exiting the car, she noticed the security guards who’d always ignored her previously bowing their head in respect as she walked past them. Olga was already waiting for her. She brought her into a warm embrace and wouldn’t let go or hide her disappointment when Laura, explaining she’d had supper with Natasha, turned down the fancy meal and dessert she had prepared for her.

  She just wanted to head straight to her room and fall back on the familiarity of her bed. As she gently pushed Olga aside, her eyes fell on the staircase leading to the forbidden upper level. But she was Mrs. Kayne Malkin now, who would stop her? Lucas’s words came back to mind. Her eyes burning with a conqueror’s determination, she set forward.

  “Mrs. Malkin?” Olga’s voice faltered behind her.

  Laura turned, defiant, and remained silent as she climbed the first step.

  Lucas nodded to her, an encouraging smile on his face, and pulled a tense Olga away.

  Laura’s heart sank with every step she climbed but continued her journey, her head held high. As a true Malkin, she would not let her fear show, even with no witnesses around.

  There were only two doors, one on each side. She tried the left first to no avail. She turned around, her heart pounding, and felt the handle give way. For all the ways he invaded her life, her body, and her mind, for the first time, Laura would penetrate Kayne’s world, his inner and most private world. It lifted the hairs on her skin. She stepped inside and felt as though she’d violated a sacred temple.

  His bedroom reeked of him, no woman had left her mark, no other being had left a trace. It was purely him, a mixture of boldness and elegance, the classic touch to the modern feel, simple yet chic. Laura swirled around, her arms wide open, and her head tilted back, her eyes closed. She was in the heart of it, she could feel it, could almost feel rain on her face like in the movies she had seen.

  She opened her eyes and went about scavenging the only helpless version of Kayne she would ever encounter. No stone would be left unturned. Her first action was to open the drapes on the wall made entirely of glass, which gave way to a terrace. As always on those unusual nights, the moon was shining bright, bathing the sleeping world in its silvery glow. Laura smiled, she liked this moon. It was a wolf’s moon, her and Kayne’s moon, the benevolent light in their darkness.

  She opened drawers, finding everything neatly folded. She penetrated the walk-in closet, which in itself could contain a small-sized room. She turned on the spotlights, found more drawers, rows and rows of suits and all the clothes she recognized seeing him in. She let her fingers glide lovingly down the sleeves, lifted them to her nose, and breathed him in, feeling herself tear up with emotion. She never made it to the bathroom. When she reached his bed, she wearily opened the end table, expecting all sorts of sordid paraphernalia, but found one item, only one, a worn-out copy of The Little Prince.

  With solemn deference, she pulled it out and opened the cover. On the first page, she found the note written in elegant cursive, Property of Elena Galiano. She turned the pages carefully, understanding the value of what she held in her hands. There were little side notes written all over the margins, highlighted quotes everywhere. She smiled when randomly landing on one: “What makes the desert beautiful,” says the little prince, “is that somewhere it hides a well.”

  Just like that, another piece of Kayne Malkin was revealed to her. His favorite book had been his mother’s. She closed her eyes and kissed the cover, tears rolling down her cheeks. She would not give up. Her desert contained a well. She knew this with certainty, from the elusive kindness she’d seen in his eyes, from his all-consuming caresses when words failed him. How could she not believe in the well, having tasted its water?

  In a world that was all Kayne, in desperate hunger for him, she removed her clothes and put on one of the shirts carrying his scent. She laid herself on the mattress, still cradling the book against her chest, and fell asleep, feeling warm, kept safe by an invisible bubble surrounding her.

  ***

  Kayne returned home very late and was surprised to find Olga still waiting up for him. Nervously, she advised him that Mrs. Malkin was upstairs, unconvincingly adding, “I think it’s good that she wanted to wait for you in your room.”

  He grunted, his eyes shining with the too many beverages in his system, with information he was still unsure how to react to. Laura’s first act as his wife was to break his rules, invade his privacy, and enter a room no one besides himself was allowed in. He weighed in quickly. He was not happy, not happy at all.

  He calmly made his way to the room and opened the door slowly, hoping to catch her unaware, expecting to find her on her knees on the floor, tearing his drawers inside out. That’s what he got for being soft with her, he thought, a situation he would remedy, immediately.

  His sadistic sneer faded from his lips as he found the sleeping lump on his bed, in his shirt. He took a seat in the black leather club chair facing the bed and watched her sleep in the darkness. Her sleep became agitated under his gaze. Her eyes blinked open. Slowly, she raised herself on her elbows and smiled tentatively upon finding him, only his black eyes emerging from the shadows. “You’re back…” Without fully seeing him, she could sense his brooding mood and felt herself stiff
en.

  “Come here.” He pulled out his arm to her, his voice low and gruff.

  Wearily, she got up on her feet, recognizing the shift in his demeanor. It wasn’t the sensual call of her lover; it was the calm before the storm.

  He sat her on his lap, caressed her arms, and tucked her hair behind her ears as her heart fluttered with emotion.

  “It suits you,” he said, playing with the cuff of his shirt, in a soft voice that contrasted his serious face.

  Blood rushed to her cheeks, she stared at him inquisitively. “Are you mad?” she breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.

  He exhaled deeply before returning her gaze. “Had you asked, I would’ve said yes.”

  She could see it, the water retreating around her feet, the sea pulling back only to unleash its fury, could see the monstrous wave heading her way.

  “But I’m your… wife,” she uttered, her voice breaking.

  “So you felt entitled to disregard my wishes?”

  She shook her head in response, pleading reflected in her eyes.

  “Get up,” he commanded, his voice remaining calm.

  She apprehensively took his offered hand and followed him out of his bedroom. She imagined he would take her back to her room, and felt a stab of rejection, feeling like a dog being kicked off his master’s bed to be led back to his kennel.

  He didn’t take her to her room. Instead, he turned into the western wing that led to the spiraling stairs. At the top of the stairs, she lost her resolve. Nothing good ever came from going down those stairs.

  “Master… please no… I’m sorry… I didn’t think…”