Chapter 17

Strauss

A crash of thunder and the lightning rod between my legs are what awaken me. It's not Ceylon's exotic perfume or Yasmina's thick curves that I have a hold on this morning. Instead, a tiny figure fits inside my arms like it was meant to be there. Long blonde locks tickle my nose as I peek an eye open to find Astrid sleeping soundly. The press of her back against my chest soothes me.

Without warning, tears spring to my eyes thinking about the boy I was at sixteen. Perhaps the last time I felt comforted and this warm was with my mother lying with me in this same way.

Was it wrong that I loved her?

Is that what this fiery need to burn everything is?

Flipping to my back, I stare at the ceiling. My hand makes its way to my forehead and pinches my temple. Perhaps it isn't rage that plagues, but sorrow. Seeping into my soul like a snake winding its way through my will to live.

The little creature next to me shifts as the gap between us grows. It's cold on my side where she isn't. Craning her neck, she looks around as if confused where she is. When her gaze meets mine, she turns over and places her head on my pecs. For a long moment, we just lie like that. Studying one another.

Her with a freshness of life and me dying inside.

My mouth tastes stale, and I swallow my morning breath. "Tell me about The Crystal Maiden."

She blinks slowly, as if holding back some shock at my statement, then glances between my eyes, the blue of hers sparkling in the morning light. "Well, it's not actually a maiden. They thought it was for years, but it turned out to be an eighteen-year-old boy who was sacrificed to the gods of the underworld. The skeleton calcified until it looked like crystal over the years. But the ancient people there believed the cave to be an entrance into Hell."

Picking up her hand as she rests it on my rising chest, I slip off her wedding band and put it back on with a twist. She watches the motion, and my eyes follow hers. I do it again. And again. "And that's where my angel wants to go, huh? To the cave to the underworld?"

A blush floods her fair cheeks as she purses her lips. "Yeah. Well, first, I suppose. But other places, too."

The energy buzzes off her as she squirms with excitement. A line develops on her forehead, and she tilts her head when she lifts it off of me. "Where, um, where would you like to go? You know, if you could."

Something warm fills my heart at her wanting to know about me, but I understand she's being polite, like she's possibly been trained to be. Dare I give her the truth? A fact I probably never told anyone, not even myself?

Her hair falls across her shoulder, and I let my lips curl into a smile as I tuck it behind her ear. She wants me to say a tropical place. Perhaps a snow-covered mountain for skiing or a cabin in the woods. That's what normal people would say.

But I'm a monster.

The tug on my lips makes my eyes water as I confess to her, "I'd go to the past and change it."

I can see the whites of her eyes as they widen, a little gasp parting her plump lips. "Oh." It's too much for her to bear. Maybe that's why I said it. Because I want her to have the pain I do. She stares at my abs for a long time, and I think she'll switch the subject. When she raises her face to mine again, she asks, "What would you change?"

Like a movie playing in my mind, my whole life flashes before my eyes. If my father were someone different or if I hadn't been born into this city or if I hadn't been born at all…

Deep, quiet, and still, the nagging thought tightens like a band around my brain.

If my mother hadn't used me.

No. That's not true. I was old enough to know what I was doing. People just didn't understand those kinds of things. It wasn't wrong, just…

My fingers scratch at my scalp, digging into the flesh there. It brings me into the present, staring into the ripe face of a girl starting out in life, one which has been taken from her. By me. By her legacy.

"I'd change everything." To emphasize my point, I nod and repeat it. " Everything ."

Her breasts rise and press into my chest as she takes a long, deep inhale. She whispers, "But you can't change everything."

I sit up more against my pillows, dragging her with me. Like my own little doll. "No, I can't."

Stuffing her bottom lip under her teeth, she chews on it before gracing me with those intoxicating eyes. "But you can start over."

Desperation floods through me at her words. If only it were true. If I could be someone or somewhere new, then things would feel different. So I embrace it for a moment.

With that longing comes an urge for something more, and I grip her jaw with my fingers, tugging her face to mine and latching onto her precious lips. Honeyed words and a kind heart. Sucking it inside of me like my angel will protect me, save me. I need her to.

She climbs on top of me, never letting go of my mouth. Little nails dig into my neck, clinging to me with as much urgency as I grasp onto her. For once, it doesn't feel like a manipulation or a tease. This is not a trick.

I want a wife.

Her tongue tastes like candy, even in the morning, though it's mixed more with an essence of her. My breath probably has a flavor of death. Despite that, she melds against me, folding her tiny body into mine until I wrap myself around her. We make out like teenagers, my lips sucking down her neck as she pants tiny whimpers in my ear.

I don't remember a time when I've ever felt like this. An urge to be inside someone and not just within her folds, but mixed with her blood. Integrated until there's no separation between us. Perhaps it's all the regret infecting my mind to pursue something I shouldn't have. Especially with someone twenty years younger with no life experience.

It may also be envy of that, too.

Whatever it is makes my dick so hard, it may break in half. It pounds and jumps with every beat of my heart, yearning to be comforted by a tight embrace. If it could think, it would believe she, this angel on me, is the only one who can provide that.

One of my hands works its way down to the sheet, and as I lift it to stroke myself and Astrid situates her hips around mine, the door flings open.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but there's an emergency." Sev makes my heart race as the vision of my father standing there hits me. My lungs seize their duty for a long moment as Astrid massages my chest with her fingers.

"Fuck! What?" I sound angry, but I'm panicked. Trying to shake myself from those memories. Astrid stares at me with curiosity, and I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid her gaze.

"Amalthea has arrived with her men. She wishes entry to speak with us."

I've prepared for this.

Despite that, the plan whirring through my mind, some level of panic tingles right beneath the surface of my skin. They can't take her from me.

Her waist is so tiny when I pick her up off me and set her on the bed. "Do not move. Do you understand me, Astrid? Listen and tell me you understand that command."

She bobs her head quickly, her eyes growing larger.

"Dilan will escort you to the tower. You are only to follow her. And remember what I taught you about the rifles."

As I turn to grab my pants, she snatches my hand with her little fingers. "But what will you do? Where are you going?"

When I look back at her, such concern paints her face that I wonder… Does the girl care for me? She's seldom addressed me properly since we've been together. None of that all matters now. Things have changed and maybe that's some of the reason my pulse pounds more powerfully in my veins.

"I need to meet with these people. The bad people I told you about." My hand slaps my forehead with frustration. "Fuck! I wish you were already pregnant."

Sev dances from foot to foot, waiting for my instructions. "Prepare the tea for them, perhaps some bourbon and vodka. Bring them into the living room, and Falcon can watch from the wings. You and the other guards stay near the tower."

"Sir? You don't want us with you?"

"No." I snap my fingers and point to the little girl clasping the sheet to her chest. "She's more important."

My feet almost slip in my hurry to get dressed. Aiming my voice at the door, I shout, "I'll be down in ten. Have the tea service set up!"

As I slick back my hair and brush my teeth, Dilan's perfume floods the room when she peeks around the corner. "I'll take her to the tower."

The toothbrush hangs from my mouth as I mumble around it. "Stay with her. If there's danger, I'll give the signal. We may need the extra guns here on the second floor."

She nods once, and when I finish, storming through my bedroom, Dilan has one arm wrapped protectively around Astrid's shoulders. The sight of them makes something in my chest loosen. I'm ready.

Despite the constriction in my throat, I stroll into the living room with a broad grin painted on my face. Three armed guards stand in front of the owl. Amalthea is unmasked, the eyes of Satan himself pouring from her orbital holes. The vision of her makes my blood heat to a boil.

"Welcome, welcome. So good to have you visit." One of the guards sneers at my sarcasm. My hand shakes slightly with anger as I wave it toward the seats surrounding the fireplace. "Please, have a seat. Tea?"

A silver tray holding the water kettle and cups sits out on the short coffee table in front of a leather sofa. Amalthea nods at her guards and they each take a spot surrounding it, though she continues to bore lasers at me from the corner.

Falcon stands in the other, her hawk eyes never departing from the enemy.

With an air of nonchalance, I slump into a wing-backed armchair and pick up a mug, pinching the cold porcelain between my thumb and forefinger. My eyebrows raise at the owl, then at the chair next to me until she huffs a breath and gracefully sits. The guards across from me are not important. In fact, I remember a few of them working with Morozov, who used to work for me before the bear killed them. They were the ones who escaped the incident during their exchange.

A small wooden spoon holds the loose-leaf in a bowl, and I scoop some out into their mugs, then pour the water over until it steams. All eyes in the room study me carefully, probably watching to make sure I don't reach for the handgun tucked in my waistband. But if I hurt Amalthea, none of my bombs could stop the carnage they would throw at me and my household. It's not time for that. Yet.

Amalthea waves off the offer when I pass her a cup. "Bourbon, then?" I ask.

"No, Vladimir, son of Strauss." Her black eyes scan her men. One takes a cup and sips, then the others. "I came to discuss your bride."

Sitting back against my chair, I spread my arms over the cushioned rests and cross my legs. "Yes?"

Her black hair dances as she shakes her head. "We'll be taking her unless you wish to die here and now. You can cooperate and stay in your position until she gives us a male heir. Or not obey, and we will end things accordingly."

They need my name as scapegoat for their plans until they have a replacement for consort who they'll raise to submit to their will. Even if they take Astrid, they'd have to wait for several months for their baby to be born and then have one of the Johns act as counsel until the child would come of age. After that, my wife would be strung up and leaked of her blood continuously to feed their addictions.

But if she had my child within her already, they wouldn't want to spill her blood unless it was part of a ritual…at a specified time to sacrifice to their made-up gods.

They can't kill her. They need her womb, too.

That's my advantage. As long as she's here, they won't harm me.

I think.

Two fingers peak under my chin as I devise my next plan, but a small movement on the second story catches my eye. My stomach twists into a knot, but I control my rate of breathing and expression when I spy my wife peeking over the railing to watch the meeting. I won't give her position away, but terror grips me like a vise, hoping Amalthea doesn't spot her.

"Well, it will be quite difficult for you to give her an heir when she's already pregnant with a Strauss."

Amalthea's jaw tightens, and her guards glance at her, setting their cups down. "Is that so?"

Blinking rapidly, my grin spreads wide across my lips. "Yes. You should come to the baby shower."

"Then we'll rip it out of her on Winter Solstice." Amalthea nods at her guards, and I still every muscle I own, hoping this isn't the end for me. I think I must be having a heart attack, but give nothing away. Please. Not yet… Not before she's carrying my child.

One of the guards stands with his hand clawing at his throat. The other clutches his chest while croaking out a groan. Amalthea rises and stares at them as they each drop to the floor, the third pulling out his gun and pointing it at me, but Falcon shoots him in the forehead before he can finish what he was about to do.

Gasping for air, the large men groan and roll on the floor, attempting to get the deadly nightshade out of their systems. "So…baby shower?" I ask the owl as she gapes at me. "You're unprotected now. Alone."

"You know if you try to hurt me , Herodius will end all of you."

"So make your move." Her thick lips close as she stares at me in exasperation. "But you won't. You know why you won't?" Feeling bolder, I calm my heart rate and spit the words out. "Because I hold the last Barrington. And she holds my heir. An attack on this house is an attack on your precious snake, which you need . So run and tell the Johns to leave our happy family in peace."

She steps into me, her thick bosom pressing into my chest. I hold my breath to avoid her overly musky scent. "We'll take her and abort it."

Without a blink, I narrow my eyes, holding her fierce gaze with my own. I could reach out and snatch that skinny throat. Snap her neck in two. She knows. But I can't. Not if I want to take revenge on everyone who stole my mother from me.

"No, you won't. Not yet anyway. It's not time for that." I'm not as ignorant as she seems to think. They need their rituals. No one will spill a drop of Astrid's blood or risk an abortion until their gods say so. Time is what I have in my favor, even if it's not much.

But if they take her from me and find out she's not pregnant…I'll have no chance before they impregnate her with someone else's seed. I'll lose everything.

A sharp breath shoots from her nose as she steps back from me. Sev monitors her movements, and I nod at him to escort her out of the house. Off my fucking property.

Falcon hurries to the bodies to inspect them, but my eyes trail upward to the little girl with her hand over her mouth. Her blue eyes hold fear, probably just as much as mine. She gets it now.

Taking the steps two at a time, I race up to meet her, Dilan passing me to help Falcon. Grabbing my wife by the shoulders, I pull her closer. Neither of us speaks, but her chest rises quickly as her breathing accelerates. Mine does the same.

Ever-so-slowly, she nods at me, as if her thoughts match my own. "We better hurry," she says.

Snagging her around the waist, I hoist her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me, then laying her across the bed. My body crawls on top of hers, lifting my shirt she wears from her body while her fingers undo my belt.

I unbutton my shirt and toss it aside along with my pants.

"Spread your legs, angel." She does, and I dive my face straight in. Being so young, she's already soaked for me. Ripe and waiting. Tasting of candy and strawberries. She tosses her head back and moans, her fingers threading through my hair and tugging.

When I lift my gaze to hers, she says, "Please just...fill me."

Is there such a thing as fear sex? Because I think we both feel it right now as I tap my cock on her clit, getting harder with each swing and grip on my dick. Opening her legs wider, I line up and thrust in, squinting my eyes shut at just how tight she is.

God, maybe I don't want to stretch her.

Laying over her, my elbows bend on either side of her head as our noses touch. Her big eyes blink bashfully as I thrust inside nice and slow. When her face scrunches as I do, I check in with her. "You okay?"

After taking a quick inhale, she nods and smiles at me. "Yes."

It's not beyond my comprehension that this is different. The way I'm fucking her…it's not fucking.

It's something more desperate. Something I need, but so does she. Like sharing something of ourselves. Fear, yes. But also comfort or even pleasure without the added dose of pain. It's been so long since I understood that, if I ever did.

I think I'm bonding with my wife.

She grunts again as I increase the pace. She likes it. Brushing her hair off her forehead, I kiss her there, then her lips. And she folds herself around me. Her legs wrap around my waist and arms over my back, holding on. Astrid's body is small, but not breakable.

So when I pull back from our kiss and feel my balls thump, desperate to explode inside her, I push in harder. "You gonna come for me? I need you to. I need you to take all my cum and get it up inside you deep where it can't escape." Leaning over her, my head drops to her neck as I whisper, "So you can't escape."

Her whimpers pick up until she makes sweet sounds right over my ear. "Yes!" When I shove in again, her pussy flutters. She's close.

"Yes, you'll come? You won't run away anymore?"

Tiny fingers lock on my neck and pull me back, so we are face to face. "No, I won't."

My lips tap the end of her nose, and she collapses around me.

But something strange happens.

She screams, "Vincente!"

And the sound of an angel's voice shattering my true name makes me erupt along with her. Buried inside her like she's coming to take me to Heaven.

One I don't deserve.