Chapter 9

Arianna

I t's been almost a week since I arrived here; since I discovered that some poor girl was married off in my place. I've barely seen Nikolai. He's either been away on business or resolutely avoiding me when he's here. If I was hoping some space would help me get over whatever attraction I feel toward him, I was sorely mistaken. Every night he pervades my dreams, leaving me waking with longing and unfulfilled need. Touching myself, ashamed for thinking of him but still doing so nonetheless, hasn't helped to satisfy my hunger.

Whenever we have bumped into each other, the chemistry between us is as strong as ever. Though our interactions are sexually charged, it's the same old stalemate—he demands I tell him what I know, and I refuse until he guarantees he will set me free and help me start a new life, no matter what.

I should be angrier with Nikolai for the way he spoke to me and for accusing me of lying. But I can't bring myself to blame him. How else would I expect him to react, hearing that the wedding went ahead, that there's a cuckoo in my nest? I was as surprised as him. I'd probably think the same in his shoes. I also haven't given him information like I promised I would. The problem is, I don't know how he'll react. Or how to tell him. I know the news will change everything, that I might be the one on the receiving end of his rage. I need him to guarantee my safety first so that won't happen.

Whenever I'm not in my room, Dimitri, or to a lesser extent Endo, have been charged with babysitting me. Life here, it seems, is not all that different from at home. Though Dimitri is kind, he seems to have some misplaced belief that a relationship could develop between Nikolai and me. It's nice to know that at least Dimitri believes me and is trying to win Nikolai around on my behalf.

"Give him time, he does not know yet that there is more than one way to rule. That sometimes, the—how you say—metal fist is not needed," he said recently.

"Iron fist," I corrected with a smile.

I spend most of my days in my room or the library, working my way through Nikolai's impressive collection of books. It's the one place other than my room where I am left alone, though I'm well aware that my watchers aren't far away. The room is cozy with comfortable chairs and a big shaggy rug. Like much of the house, one wall is taken up by a massive window, but every other inch of space is filled with books. I wonder if this room is for show or if Nikolai has read them all. I can't imagine him propped up in bed at night with a book.

I should avoid thinking of Nikolai and beds in the same sentence, I know where that will lead. Just because I'm a virgin doesn't mean I don't have desires. It's not by choice that I haven't had sex yet. It's just hard to date when you're kept a prisoner and your father kills any man who even looks at you in the wrong way.

I'm sitting in my usual spot, a comfy armchair by the window where I can curl up and read, in the library. The sun set a while ago and the soft lamp by my side is the only light in the room. Outside, the moon is big and full and tinted blood red. Fitting, considering the book I've chosen. I'm so engrossed in my book I don't hear him enter. It seems I am not the only one Dimitri has been offering words of advice to, I wonder if it's his influence that has made him approach me finally. Nikolai is standing right above me when I finally notice him, making me jump.

"Nikolai, you scared me! How do you manage to sneak around so quietly?" I ask, not expecting an answer.

"Sorry, force of habit."

The air feels electric from his energy. He commands the room just by being there. His gaze meets mine and I feel hot under his scrutiny. The soft light from the lamp leaves him partially in shadow, making him appear even more dark and brooding than usual. He's wearing a black suit and a white shirt, both impeccably tailored to show off his masculine physique. The rich scent of amber and cedarwood emanates from him. Just looking at him has my mind wandering to places it shouldn't.

"What are you reading?" he asks, pulling me from my less-than-pure thoughts with his surprisingly normal question.

It wasn't what I was expecting. For him to just pretend nothing happened. Part of me is tempted to bite back, to ask him if he believes I am who I say I am yet, to ask what's changed. But I sense this is his way of offering an olive branch. I need his help to start a new life, so I take it.

"Anne Rice, An Interview with a Vampire," I reply. He wrinkles his nose slightly in disapproval and I can't help but let out a chuckle. "What, you don't like it? Are you judging my book choices now? May I remind you I found it in your library," I point out.

The shadow of a smile crosses his face. "Oh, I like it. But I don't love the legacy it led to, all that girly vampire fan fiction and erotica."

"I didn't peg you for a prude," I say with a raised eyebrow and a small smile.

"Oh, I'm most definitely not," he promises with a glint in his eye. "But I just don't get it. Vampires were meant to be something scary, that strikes fear. Not glittering wimps. Now Dracula, that's a real vampire."

"True, but even then, there were sexual undercurrents. Dracula successfully seduces Lucy and Mina. Vampires are inherently sexy and dangerous," I reply, surprised to be having a real conversation with Nikolai but enjoying it.

So far, we've mostly fought, or he's promised things that make my toes curl and distract me beyond belief, but we've only had a couple of real conversations.

"Hmm," he says, unconvinced.

"Really, you don't see how women could be attracted to a strong, powerful man who could just as easily kill them or fuck them but who also has a secret soft side?" I ask dryly.

I can tell he's picked up on my implication as he raises his brows, seemingly not mad at the insinuation. "Are you comparing me to a vampire?"

"If the shoe fits," I reply casually, flicking the pages of my book.

"There's one difference between me and them though," he says moving closer to me, "I don't have a soft side."

He's stood, towering over me in all his glory. It's easy to draw a comparison between him and the kind of eternal hunk in the books we're talking about. He's practically a Viking. Dangerous, strong, and confident. A warrior. Men like Nikolai Kuzmin don't give anything freely, and they don't respect weakness. Perhaps this is why the rebellious side of me comes out in a different, more sexual way than it has before.

I stand up, so we're standing just inches from one another. I can feel the heat from his body, temptingly close. We could both give in and finally do what we have wanted to do from the moment we first met. He leans into me, angling his chin down and reaching out a hand as if about to touch me. I could let him take me here and now, I want him to.

But instead, I say, "Keep telling yourself that," with a wink, and sashay away from him.

Part of me hopes he'll grab me and ravage me. That he won't let me go. But the other part of me is enjoying having this power over him. He's well aware of the effect he has on me, but I know he wants me, just as much as I want him.