12. Tati

CHAPTER 12

TATI

"Fuck, I can't move."

For hours, Dante and I fucked in every way imaginable. He licked my pussy, bathing himself in my orgasms until my legs were Jell-O. Once he was done taking my pussy, he held me down and fucked my ass with the same intensity. That session was hard to take, but I find I'm willing to get through anything to please him, and I came too. Whenever I thought I couldn't take more, he proved me wrong. Cum drips from every hole, and the sticky ground clings to my skin.

We lie there, watching the sunrise. He's so gentle as he strokes my skin and occasionally says nice things I never expected to hear.

I feel more at peace than I have in two years, more than I ever expected to feel again. My fear of Dante hasn't left me, but there's a deep, soul-shaking bond between us now that overrides my self-preservation. I'm not sure if I would call what he's given me forgiveness, but it feels a hell of a lot like it. The satisfaction may wear off, but that's okay. Whenever it does, Dante will be here to make me pay for my sins. I'm sure of that.

His burned hand lazily strokes my back.

"Do I feel nice?"

He takes a moment to answer.

"It's criminal how good it feels to touch you. Your skin has an entirely different texture to each hand, but both of them are so fucking soft."

I giggle. "I know I can't always count on it, but it feels so good to be with you when you're gentle."

"I won't always be gentle," he assures me. "I could still decide to kill you."

"I know."

But he keeps up the sweet and gentle touches.

"You really want to make it up to me, Little Backstabber? Do you want to give me your life like you said?"

"I'll do anything," I say as I nuzzle into him, loving the smell of his skin. I almost ask if he wants to marry me, but I don't want to hurt my own feelings. He owns me; I'm his whore. He's gentle right now, but that doesn't mean he loves me like I'm starting to love him.

He stares off at the horizon, taking a deep breath. "We're both dead now."

For a long time, I can't move. My legs are useless from the orgasms and the hours spent dangling from the ceiling. Thick fear fills my throat, but I'm too drained to run for my life again.

He turns to me with his remaining brow arched. "You're not going to run? All it took was a few orgasms and a cuddle, and now you trust me?"

I chuckle. "Dante, you agreed we are not dying, come on."

I grab his face, turning him to me and not the view in the distance.

"Not real dead, Little Backstabber, my type of dead." The arm beneath me tugs me tighter against his chest. It's a bone-deep satisfaction that he seems to relish my touch so much.

"What does that mean exactly? You choke me to death and revive me?" I'm suddenly wet again despite how sore and utterly used my whole body is. If I was a better person, I might not enjoy his torture so much, but it's exactly what I need.

"Don't tempt me. I think your body might need some serious rest if I'm not going to kill you."

He strokes my skin, and I wonder what serious rest and Dante might look like. I'm stupid enough that romantic pictures are forming in my head. I've been pushing myself too hard for too long. My body would have given out on me eventually from all the stress. I'm just glad he was the one to force me to stop running from my problems. He wasn't trying to help me, but he set me free.

"So, what do you mean we're both dead, then?" I relax into him, finding he's easy to trust, given he's so honest about his intentions.

"You're mine now, but for that to be permanent, the real Tatiana needs to die."

"But if you kill me, you can't keep me."

"For you to belong to a monster, you need to leave behind everything that makes you human."

He never breaks eye contact, the manic gleam in his eyes showing me he's terribly serious. I take his hand off my chin and squeeze it.

"My mom is dead already. I don't have anyone."

"You have a Bratva father. Classmates. Teachers. You're working toward a degree and goals. You have a life. If you're going to come with me into the shadows, you can't have people looking for you."

I swallow hard, aching slightly with everything he's asking me to dispose of but ultimately knowing the answer anyway. One day he might understand why it's so easy to say yes to him. I haven't been living for a really long time.

"Okay," I whisper. "I'll give up my life for you."

He nods, and his hand circles my neck. I think he's going to choke me, but it's an intimate gesture.

"Let's kill you, Tatiana Sokolov."

Hours later, we're back at my apartment returning all my belongings to where I removed them and making it appear that I had no intention of leaving.

I sent Katie a text on our way over to figure out where she was and make sure she wouldn't get caught in the crossfire.

"We don't have to do this. I've only committed one other felony, and that turned out to be a really bad idea." I'm perfectly okay with faking my death, destroying my life, all that stuff, but the details aren't sitting well.

"Don't bring up your crimes right now, Little Backstabber. I could still change my mind."

The body we grabbed from the morgue lies at my feet, and I can't help shooting her pitying looks.

"This is wrong. We shouldn't have done this."

"No one will miss her. I made sure," he states.

He walks over to the kitchen counter where the fire starter and matches sit. His nervous gaze hasn't stayed off them since I pulled them from my closet. We had a barbecue when we first moved in, and this seems like a dramatic way to use the leftover materials.

His terror is so clear my heart aches, and I'm an inch from begging him to punish me again. I'm not sure why he's insisting on this method of disposal for the fake me, but it seems like too much.

"Dante, seriously, we can do anything else. We don't have to deal with fire."

"I know that. There are a lot of options, but maybe I'm the one that needs it to end this way, how it started."

"Do you want me to do it, just in case?"

"Just like how it started," he says.

I take the can off the counter, flip the top, and douse the poor Jane Doe lying on my floor. As the last squirt hits her, the door opens and Katie rushes inside.

"You said you were in class!" I shove the can behind my back and try not to look as miserably suspicious as I am.

"I was," Katie shouts, "but I'm not fucking stupid, and I knew you were trying to avoid me!"

"That's not true!"

"You're going to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on!" Her blonde hair is a mess all around her, and her thin arms shake in her distress. "Everyone around me can't keep disappearing!"

She's gearing up for a full-blown meltdown when all of a sudden, she stops. Her mouth pops open in shock, and she blinks repeatedly.

"Did you kill someone?" She asks it so quietly I nearly don't hear her after the yelling.

"No! Of course not!" I try to defend myself, but this doesn't look good.

"I'm calling the police," she threatens.

"Katie, please."

Dante picks up his ax and takes a menacing step toward her.

"Dante! Stop! You can't kill her!"

He growls, his fingers tightening around the handle, and slides me a look, telling me I'll pay for that later.

"How much is it going to take to keep you quiet?" Dante asks, gesticulating with the weapon. "You used to live in an apartment off campus, now you're here? Money not going well?"

"I—it's not… Why the fuck are you asking?"

We stand far from the crowd, watching the building burn. Flames climb the side of the brick in long columns, eating anything they touch. I'm amazed there's so much to burn. The building always seemed so solid. Smoke wafts around us, and the whole scene reminds me so much of how this all started, like he said.

Dante holds my hand, and the free one strokes my hair. I'm starting to think he will always be touching me in some way. I don't mind that. I want whatever he'll give me: pleasure or pain.

He was nervous when we dropped the match and ran, but by the time we made it to safety, he was only smiles and peace. I'm not sure how this will all affect him later, but this is his to figure out. I'll be here for him any way I can.

Katie screams and cries at the top of her lungs from her place on the pavement. She's really earning her money's worth. I had no idea she was such a good actress or that she was broke, but she took the money he offered, and now she's crying for her "dying friend." At least she knows what happened to me, mostly.

I turn to Dante, wondering how he's feeling after starting that fire and hoping this craziness has fixed some of his suffering.

"What are you thinking?"

"I can't believe we lit that fire." He glows with pride.

"It was your idea."

"I can't believe I let you live."

"That was your idea too."

"No, Little Backstabber. No, it wasn't."