Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  Valerie

  I must have laid there for hours, the drug coursing through my body. Making me feel things. Strange, beautiful things. And I wanted to continue basking in them.

  I never wanted this to end—this beautiful dream. I never wanted to stop dancing and hearing the nature sounds and the enchanting music. And his voice. His laughter.

  Viktor was there. Every step I took, he was there beside me, holding me. We were together, and there was nothing more beautiful than this moment.

  But just like any drug, the effects eventually faded away.

  I was thrust back into reality. The pain came back, my body aching everywhere. I struggled to a sitting position, my vision blurry and my head heavy.

  Swiping a hand over my face, I took a deep breath. My muscles protested, but I took another deep breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

  After some time, I finally got to my feet and limped to the bathroom. Standing under the curtain of water, I washed away all the evidence of Valentin.

  I scrubbed my skin raw until I was red, itching, and sensitive. The collar was still around my neck. I didn’t dare remove it. I also didn’t dare to look at myself in the mirror.

  The image in my head was enough to make my stomach churn painfully. I silently wished that Valentin would feed me those drugs every moment—every single minute and second.

  They dulled my pain and sent me to a world where pain didn’t even exist. There, I could be happy.

  Here—I was a living corpse.

  The dress I wore scratched at my sensitive skin. The material was smooth, made with the softest silk, yet it still itched.

  Finally, I staggered toward my bed. Even climbing into it was painful. I struggled to breathe with the heavy feeling on my chest.

  Valentin visited me and left. He took what he wanted and then left.

  And now I was alone with my thoughts.

  My eyes drifted toward my door, and I sleepily stared at it. A small smile kicked its way to my lips as I thought of my dream—my fantasyland.

  Viktor.

  My eyes started to drift closed at the thought, tiredness finally making its way into my body. Sleep overpowered me, and I slowly started to succumb to the peace it brought.

  But then the door opened.

  I blinked at the sudden change and sat up quickly in bed, holding the comforter close to my body. My heart raced, and I blinked again, trying to get rid of the sleepiness.

  Was Valentin visiting me again?

  I trembled—I couldn’t take anymore right now.

  But instead of my nightmare, my beautiful dream walked through the door. Just like it was meant to happen in the first place.

  My breath was stolen from me, and I gasped this time. My heart accelerated and drummed harder than before, the wings of a bird—wanting to be let free.

  The lights were still on, so I saw him clearly. Viktor closed the door behind him and locked it. In his hands, there was a tray of food.

  My stomach rumbled at the sight; just now I realized that I was, in fact, hungry. My eyes met his unsmiling face—expressionless.

  He was dressed in all black, but like last time, he’d left his suit jacket behind again. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the length of his tattoos. The first few buttons of his shirt were left undone.

  With his harsh face, he looked deadly, but I wasn’t scared of him.

  Because he finally came for me. After waiting for so long, he was finally here. His eyes were trained on me as he walked closer.

  I sat up straighter, our eyes never breaking from each other. The room felt less cold. His presence enveloped the room, creating a safe cocoon around me.

  He made my heart warm, and the warmth continued to spread throughout my body. Whenever he was near, I seemed to forget everything. He was all I could see and think of.

  Viktor really was a puppet master—and I was his willing victim.

  He neared the bed and placed the tray on my nightstand. When he stood to his full height again, he towered over me, looking much bigger and more dangerous.

  His lips were set in a straight line, and I watched his eyes glide over my body. His gaze paused at my neck, and then they continued in a downward path. His gaze left a trail of warmth until I knew I was blushing.

  Finally, our eyes met again. Viktor stepped forward, and I breathed him in, locking this moment deep inside me.

  His hand reached out and touched the top of my collar. My heart stuttered, finally realizing what he was seeing.

  Viktor was seeing my husband’s aftermath.

  Embarrassed and filled with shame, I looked down at my lap. I refused to see the pity in his eyes. That was the last thing I wanted from him.

  I didn’t want Viktor to see me like this—weak and lost.

  My nails dug into my palms as I stared straight ahead, wishing he would leave. But also secretly wishing he would stay—with me.

  My feelings were a ball of confusion. But when his fingers trailed up toward my chin and he turned my head toward him—our eyes meeting in silence—my feelings were clear as day.

  I really did want him to stay—and hold me. I wanted my dreams to be real.

  His other hand came up, and he touched his lips. My gaze immediately went there to see him speaking.

  “Are you hungry?”

  I shrugged, waiting for him to continue. “I brought you food. You should eat.”

  He didn’t wait for my answer. Instead, he released me and then placed the tray on my lap. He nodded toward the food with a raised eyebrow, waiting while crossing his arms over his chest.

  Viktor didn’t seem like a man who waited for answers. He took and did whatever he wanted, expecting the others to listen and submit. He was demanding—his words a command, not a request.

  Igor’s words resonated through my ears. He is a powerful man.

  I always knew that, but now I could see it more clearly.

  Slowly, I ate what he brought for me. Viktor settled on the bed in front of me. Every once in a while, our eyes would meet, and every time, it became harder to look away.

  The silence between us—it was beautiful.

  Sometimes there aren’t words. Sometimes silence is all you need.

  Because even in the silence, I could hear his words—his voice. And in the deepest silence, that was when my heart danced so wildly for this beautiful, deadly man.

  When Viktor reached forward to grab my hand, I paused and took in a shuddering breath. He smoothed his thumb over the inside of my wrist, slowly and so softly.

  His thumb rubbed over my throbbing veins, and my breathing changed, racing with every swipe of his thumb.

  His touch was electrifying, and it made me needy of him. Almost like an addiction.

  That thought made me smile inwardly. Maybe I was addicted to Viktor. And this addiction was one I never wanted to escape from.

  He pushed my long sleeves up above my elbows. The corner of his eyes tightened, and I saw his expression changing—becoming harsher and angrier.

  I looked down to see the marks Valentin had left me.

  When I tried to pull away, his hold tightened, and his eyes met mine again. Biting down on my lips at the look he was giving me, I stopped struggling.

  Viktor pushed the tray away and scooted closer, until our knees were touching. I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat.

  He took something out of his pocket, a tiny round container. I blinked in confusion when he didn’t explain.

  But when Viktor opened it, I knew what it was. And it made my heart clench.

  I looked up to see him intensely focused on his actions. Viktor applied the lavender-scented salve over my bruises. He made sure to cover all the red purplish marks, his touch gentle and soothing.

  I have never had a man touch me so carefully before, as if he was scared to break me.

  When he looked up at me, Viktor stared at me as if I was someone precious. Like he truly cared. And I believed it.

  I b
elieved the look in his eyes, and I held it close to my heart.

  Viktor rolled up the sleeve on my other arm to check the damage too. This one had fewer bruises, but he still took care of them so sweetly. He didn’t say a word—not that he needed to.

  His hand trailed down toward my hips. His touch left me shivering, even though I felt hot.

  Viktor looked at me questioningly, and I swallowed nervously. Pulling away, I rummaged through my drawer. Finally, I could use his pen and my notepad again.

  Without another look at him, I quickly scribbled down.

  Thank you. I will do the rest.

  Viktor’s hold grew tighter around my hips, but then he let go…only to touch the top of my collar. I knew it was bruising badly where Valentin had gripped my throat.

  Viktor continued his gentle care. Dipping his finger into the salve, he brought his hand to my neck, slowly applying it to my itching, flaming skin.

  His hand trailed across the collar, and his eyes grew darker. I wondered what was going on through his head.

  In my dreams, he stole me away from here.

  Would he do the same in reality?

  Our eyes connected, and of my own accord, I moved closer. Like our bodies weren’t our own anymore, we moved toward each other—so close, almost touching.

  His lips were inches from mine, his fingers lingering over my neck, his touch featherlight. So different from Valentin’s.

  My eyes fluttered closed, but Viktor pulled away. He rubbed a hand over his face, looking frustrated for a second.

  I missed his touch instantly, and I shook my head, trying to clear the web of thoughts. Thoughts of him—and us.

  Viktor squeezed his hands into fists, his jaw and body locked tight. Hating the tortured expression on his face, I took the notepad in my hand again.

  His eyes drifted toward it, and he waited for me to write.

  Why are you here?

  It appeared like he was clearing his throat, and then he was speaking. I watched his lips, listening to his words through the silence.

  “Valentin came back, and I knew—” He paused and then sighed. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  I wasn’t okay before, but I think I am now.

  With a heavy heart, I stared at my lap, staring at the pen pressed against the paper. I had replied without thinking. The truth has spilled out, and when I looked up, Viktor’s eyes meeting my own—I saw him truly looking at me.

  I knew he wasn’t just seeing a face.

  He was seeing my soul, because I chose to bare it to him.

  Viktor opened his mouth, and then he closed it again, as if he was lost for words. Wanting him to continue speaking, I scribbled down on the paper.

  Where is Valentin?

  He took my free hand in his and then spoke. “He is drunk and passed out.”

  Is that why you are here? Because he is passed out?

  Viktor nodded without saying a word. I didn’t know what to say either. We both knew it was wrong—this was wrong. So wrong, yet we continued to play this game.

  His fingers entwined with mine. “Valerie, I am sorry—”

  I lurched forward, dropping the notepad and pen on the bed as I covered his mouth with my free hand, stopping his tirade of words.

  I was on my knees beside him on the bed. In this position, I towered over him a little. Viktor had to look up into my eyes, and I hope he saw all my unsaid words.

  His fingers tightened around mine, and he pulled me closer, our chests touching, our breathing harsher. My heart pounded as I stared into his dark brown eyes. My chest heaved with each labored breath.

  I wanted to succumb to his embrace and forget everything. My palm stayed on his lips, our eyes looking, searching—doing the talking for us.

  Finally, he moved. The mattress bent under his weight as his body came even closer. Until the other side of my hand was pressed against my lips.

  My body locked tight, my eyes widening. Viktor watched my reaction—his focus only on me.

  I gasped, my lips parting and touching my own hand. I felt his lips move against my palm, placing the smallest kiss there.

  For a brief moment, I wondered what if his lips were on mine—what it would feel like.

  But just as sudden as the thought was, I quickly pushed it away.

  I knew Viktor saw the indecisiveness in me. His hold on my hand grew tighter, and he pulled me forward until I was tumbling into his lap.

  My head twirled—he was everywhere and everything. He was everything I could feel. And he was making me want it—want him.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and then let go. I released him and pulled away. Viktor let go too, his arms falling to the bed—empty and no longer holding me.

  I took the notepad and furiously started writing. The tears blurred my vision, but I spoke only the truth—my truth.

  The truth that could end us.

  This is wrong. I am married.

  Chapter 25

  Viktor

  The truth stared right at me, glaring. I fought against the urge to scrunch the paper up and throw it away. And then I wanted to shake some sense into Valerie.

  This is wrong. I am married.

  I mentally laughed. Married? Fuck no. She was married by name, but it fucking meant nothing.

  Valentin only wanted to corrupt her innocence—mold her into something she wasn’t.

  I had been way past raging when I walked into Valerie’s room. In her presence, little by little—I felt myself warming up again.

  But now, I remembered everything Valentin said.

  He had stumbled into the library, holding a bottle of rum in his hand. It was probably his second or third bottle, because he was drunk enough to fall flat on his ugly face.

  His drunken words—it snapped something in me. For a moment, I had almost forgotten that I was supposed to be Konstantin.

  Tightest pussy ever.

  You gotta try it sometime.

  Best lay I ever had.

  Made her bleed. Sweetest fucking thing.

  Maybe I’ll fuck her ass tomorrow.

  Collared the little bitch. Made her my whore.

  He told me in detail how he broke her and how he intended to break her more.

  I sat there—listening, raging, and wishing I could give him the worst death.

  If he thought hell would be his final destination, his final death—then he needed to rethink, because by the time I was done with him, hell would be his heaven.

  He was going to beg me to send him there—but I wouldn’t.

  The marks he left on Valerie, he needed to feel those marks ten times worse.

  I knew my silent myshka would be hurting—my heart clenching and my chest hurting at the mere thought.

  When Valentin fell into his drunken slumber, I couldn’t wait anymore.

  And now—I just wanted to hold her.

  I glanced at her written words again and up at her face. Her hazel eyes, they were filled with so much sadness. As if saying the words had broken something in her.

  It might have been the truth—but we could turn this wrong into something right.

  Only if she was willing.

  “Do you want me to leave?” I asked, hoping and wishing she would say no.

  Valerie looked down at the paper again, and I saw her tear fall. A single drop, wetting the paper, right over the word “wrong.”

  She looked up, another tear trailing down her cheek. Her tears were my undoing. They had the power to break me.

  Valerie didn’t answer. She bit on her lips and looked down again, her fists clenching around her notepad.

  I knew she didn’t want me to go—but I needed her to make a choice.

  Standing up, I gave her a final glance and turned around—walking away.

  I was crossing the middle of the room when I heard rustling and then feet padding quickly across the room. I swiveled around, just in time to catch Valerie in my arms.

  She wrapped her arms around my waist, holding
on tight. I blinked in shock, my body frozen in place. I could only hold her in my embrace.

  It was almost in slow motion as she went on her tip-toes, moving closer until our lips were inches apart.

  And then she closed the little distance between our lips.

  She kissed me. Slowly and softly. So gently. A chaste kiss, just our lips touching, meeting, and making slow, sweet love.

  It wasn’t a kiss I was accustomed to. I had never had someone kiss me like this.

  My lips didn’t move against hers, too shocked to respond. Valerie shyly pulled back, her cheeks red, beautifully blushing. She stared up at me through her thick eyelashes, biting on her pink full lips.

  Her chest heaved, her lips parting as she took in deep, harsh breaths. Her arms grew tight around my waist, and then she was letting go.

  I let her.

  Valerie took a step back, her hand coming up to her lips. She appeared surprised too at her action.

  She took another step back. When the distance grew between us, my arm lashed forward, gripping her wrist and stopping her retreat.

  Our arms were outstretched. My hand trailed down from her wrist until our fingers were laced together.

  I didn’t think she would, but her fingers gripped mine back, accepting my hold. We stayed like for what felt like hours—but I knew it was seconds. This was us—our moment.

  “Pull me closer,” I said, my voice low and rough to my own ears, filled with unsaid emotions. “Tell me not to leave.”

  Her fingers tightened around mine, and she blinked, her lips parting and her breathing accelerating. “But I am going to give you a warning.” I looked into her eyes. “If you pull me closer, I am going to kiss you. I am going to really kiss you, Valerie.”

  I waited.

  She stopped breathing.

  Maybe I did too.

  And when Valerie stepped toward me, we breathed.

  She pulled me closer.

  Another step and my heart thumped harder.

  Finally, we stood inches apart. So close, our chests touching—our bodies molding into each other’s embrace.