Chapter 18

Lydia

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I’ve spoken with the Ivanov captain. He’s got some interesting data, but it’s all encrypted, and there’s foreign language embedded I don’t know.”

Hope surges in my chest.

This. This is something I can do. Finally, instead of being a damn wallflower waiting to be protected or rescued, I can actually help.

“Let me look? I’m good at this.”

Mikhail’s eyes widen in surprise. He looks to Viktor, who nods.

“She is. Let her look.”

Back in Mikhail’s office here at headquarters, with a few of the brothers present, they’ve laid out a series of maps, surveillance photos, and weapons. Mikhail opens up the largest iPad I’ve ever seen and flips the brightness up.

“Here. Take a look.”

I’ve always been good at deciphering patterns and intricate puzzles. This one takes me a moment as I look at the notes they’ve used.

“Dmitri,” I say, my heart beating faster as I start piecing things together. “It’s his middle name. Super original to use that as his screen name, isn’t it?” I shake my head. “It looks like they’re not far from here, planning to take over a warehouse in Manhattan, but there’s no telling when.”

“Mmm.” Viktor nods. “Of course they don’t divulge the when in case their intel was intercepted.”

“How much do you trust the Ivanov captain?” I ask, frowning as I look things over. “This sort of looks like a trap.”

“Fuck,” Lev mutters. “Let me see.”

I hand him the map, and after a moment of perusing it, he nods, frowning.

“She’s right. The timing is off. If I were setting up an ambush… well, this is how I would do it. The routes they’ve highlighted funnel us into a choke point, perfect for an attack. It’s too convenient.”

I shake my head.

Viktor’s eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the details. “You’re right. If we take his word for it, this could be a setup. We can’t take that risk.”

“I would suspect that either he’s in on this with them, or they know he’s going to report to you. In any event, it’s dangerous, and I’d be careful.”

Aleks curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “So we just let him do his thing? Don’t pursue it?”

“We will absolutely fucking pursue when the time is right.”

“Right. Agreed. And when the time is right, we can create a diversion. Let them think we’re falling into their trap.”

“I have an idea,” I tell them. “Maybe send a decoy team through the highlighted route while backup circles in from behind. Catch them off guard.”

Viktor nods appreciatively. “I like how you think, doll.”

I grin and pop a cocoa-dusted truffle in my mouth.

“Oh God, get a room,” a tall blonde who must be Viktor’s sister says from the doorway. She winks at me. “I’m Polina. I kid, I kid. Any friend of chocolate is a friend of mine.”

Viktor’s arm snakes around my waist. “When we do counter, we’ll show them who we’re dealing with when we’re paired together.”

I grin. “Yup.”

“For now, we’re heading back,” he says to Polina. “We’ll be in touch about the wedding details.”

“So soon?” Polina asks with a pout. “I need to get to know your bride, though.”

“We’ll have time,” he says, but he’s obviously a million miles away, completely preoccupied with the threat against us.

The ride home is intense, fraught with need and want and innuendo as he kneads my thigh with his huge palm and tells me every wicked thing he’s planning to do to me.

“I have a surprise for you outside,” he says when we arrive.

My heart beats a little faster, but I manage to brush it off. “Dude, if it’s more sex… we might consider a bed next time.”

He only growls and narrows his eyes.

Do I want this? I don’t want to lose control to anyone.

But when he insists… it makes my heart expand in my chest.

I feel wanted.

“Alright, alright…” I walk where he gestures. I haven’t really explored the grounds outside his house yet.

“This. Over here.”

I turn the corner and cover my mouth with my hand when I take it all in. “Viktor.”

He knows me. How does he know me so well?

Nestled in the secluded, lush gardens that surround his estate, there’s a fire pit area, an oasis that looks as if it were designed specifically for someone who… likes fire.

No. Loves fire.

It looks somehow gothic and enchanting here like it was lifted straight out of a fairy tale. The fire pit itself is a large, intricate design made of black iron, resting on a base reminiscent of gnarled tree roots. The iron is carved with patterns of flames and runes, giving it a mystical, timeless appearance.

The pit has built-in compartments for kindling and logs, as well as a custom grate for controlling the intensity of the flames. A wrought iron poker and tongs hang from the side, ready for use.

Surrounding the fire pit are heavy, dark wooden benches cushioned with deep, wine-colored velvet. Gothic-style lanterns hang from wrought iron posts, casting a warm, flickering glow across the space. String lights are woven through the surrounding trees, their soft twinkle making it feel magical.

“Viktor… is this for…?”

“You? Yeah. Of course it is.”

I swallow, a mixture of honor and fear warring within me. “I… I don’t know how to feel.”

Leaning in, he kisses my cheek. “That’s alright.”

“How did you know?” I hold his gaze. “Tell me the truth.”

With a casual shrug that almost makes him appear boyish, he looks away. “I’ve been following you for a while. I know you were sent away to boarding school when your father couldn’t keep you in control, and you were booked on charges of arson. I know even your mother tried to stop you, but her methods involved trying to marry you off to the next suitor who would help you.” He shakes his head. “There’s sadly a shortage of people who understand your need.”

I swallow. “My need?”

He strikes a match. “Your need to set fire, baby.”

He takes a step toward me. “Let your wall down. Stop fighting, Lydia. You’re safe here.” He gestures. “Look. The fire won’t go beyond these brick walls.” I look around and notice for the first time the space filled with candles and matchsticks, a stack of firewood, and a flame thrower.

I can already feel the way my pulse races when I strike a match. The way my breathing regulates at that first smell of smoke. The utter control I have watching flames wreak havoc, devastation just there, at my fingertips.

I look away and don’t respond.

“What is it? Why the hesitation?”

Why do I feel so much more confident with him than I’ve ever felt before? Like he knows me, really, truly knows me.

I wonder if making love to one another the way we have—the way he tears down my walls and splits me wide open, making me feel vulnerable and exposed—is why I feel like finally, for the first time in my life, I can actually be myself.

“Lydia. What is it?”

“I was always told that something was wrong with me. That I was broken. That I should avoid anything that had to do with fire…”

I look away from him, the weight of his gaze too much to bear. “It's troubling to me that you know so much about me.”

“Accept it. I've been looking for a very, very long time. I've always been obsessed with you, Lydia. That might frighten you, but I don't want it to because I am going to protect you.” He strokes my hair down the length of my back. I step closer to him. “You're going to be my wife.”

Something surges within me, a confusing mix of fear and excitement. He gets me. It feels like he really gets me. A part of me is freaked out, but another part of me feels… relief.

“So what do you know about me? What do you know about my past?”

“I know that you were sent to school away from home because you were convicted of arson,” he says, holding my gaze without fear or hesitation. “I know that you were labeled a pyromaniac, and people feared you. But I know you aren’t someone to be feared. I suspect you’re a victim of being labeled and misunderstood.”

My breathing hitches in my throat. It scares me that he knows me so well.

“Listen. I’ve noticed your fascination with fire, Lydia. I built this for you—a place where you can indulge in your passions safely. Fire can be beautiful and controlled. It doesn't have to be destructive.” He reaches for me, cupping my jaw in the palm of his hand. “I like to think that we're alike in this way.”

“How?” I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady.

“We're both attracted to fire, baby.”

He bends and captures my mouth in a kiss. My toes curl at the feel of his warm mouth on mine, need thrumming through my body. I feel alive, energized. I feel like I’ve fallen out of my mind and fully into my body, every vibrating, living cell of being.

When he pulls away, a faint smile touches his lips.

“Go ahead, Lydia. Do it.”

Taking my hand, he leads me to sit next to the fire pit. He strikes a match and holds a candle up to me, the scent of warm vanilla toffee filling the air around us. His voice hardens, his words a command. “Do it.”

My hands tremble as I light the match, but excitement courses through me at the first lick of flame. The addictive smell of the lit match fills my senses. I light the candle and watch it burn, the flame dancing between us.

I want more. I lick my lips and swallow. “Give me another one.”

“Say please,” he teases.

“Please, Viktor,” I breathe, holding my hand out.

“Remember,” Viktor says as he lifts another candle from the large array before us, this one in a light-pink matte, smelling faintly of strawberries. “There's a difference between fascination and compulsion, Lydia. Pyromania is an uncontrollable urge to set destructive fires. But here, you can explore that fascination without harm. Control is the key.”

I light another match and shake my head, adrenaline coursing through me at the beautiful way the light flickers in the dark.

“Control? I've never felt like I had control over it. It just… took over.”

“Really? When was the last time you set a fire? A real fire, not a candle or something small.”

“It's been a long time.” I lower my voice, ashamed. “I've learned to suppress my primal urges. The need to burn things, to consume everything when I'm stressed and anxious. I’m better now.”

“Maybe you don’t need to get better. If you were a real pyromaniac, you wouldn't have been able to do that.” He lifts up a beautiful cylinder box of long, thick matches. “Light them. Throw them in the fire pit.”

I sit beside a camping chair in front of the fire, take out one of the long matches, and strike it. I watch it lick up the thin wood until it almost reaches my fingers before I toss it into the pit. I do it again and again, watching the flame with exhilaration and the slightest hint of fear.

Am I like an alcoholic who just took a sip of a drink? Or have I mislabeled myself all this time?

As the growing line of lit candles fills the space with a warm glow, I walk between them. My feet are so light I practically feel like I’m dancing, free in the mesmerizing, intimate light they create.

Viktor stands, his huge arms crossed over his chest, nodding approvingly. “You're in control, Lydia. Feel the power without fear. It's not about destruction. This is about understanding and embracing what you love. You're safe.”

I swallow the lump in my throat when he says that.

I’m secure.

Sheltered.

Out of harm’s way.

My entire life, I've never felt safe, and I knew that when I lit those fires as a child and then as a teen—all that time I spent in juvenile hall, I was trying to gain some control. My mother had little interaction with me when I was younger, thanks to my father's grip on me. And Father didn't love me; he was only trying to mold me into the person he wanted me to be. His heir, the son he never had.

As the firelight casts shadows on our faces, highlighting the intensity of my emotions, I feel a sense of liberation. My fear melts away as he moves closer, his hand caressing my cheek, his touch tender and possessive. My breath quickens, my eyes darting from flame to flame, reveling in the reflection of the flickering flames in his eyes.

“I've never felt this way before.”

Viktor kisses my cheek. “You're safe with me, Lydia. Always. Let the fire be part of you, not something to fear.”

His lips brush against mine, the evening warmed by the firelight. The connection is intense, fueled by the shared moment of vulnerability and understanding… maybe even love. Safety is a beautiful, powerful mutual attraction.

He bends me back so he can kiss my neck. I let myself melt into the heat that consumes me, surrounded by flames, when he lifts me into his arms, and my legs encircle his thick, muscled torso. I never in my dreams imagined being with a man who could carry a curvy woman like me in his arms like this. But Viktor’s no ordinary mortal.

His footsteps unhurried, Viktor kisses me like we’re the last people on earth, the only two standing while the world around us burns to rubble. My tongue meets his, the sound of his deep, manly growl making my own need for him amp higher and higher with every second that passes.

This time, I didn't bite or claw. This time, he doesn’t spank my ass or dominate me. This time, he’s slow and seductive, and by the time he sits us in the chair by the fire pit, I’m so wet and eager to have him inside me, I can’t think beyond being filled by him.

He lifts my skirt and puts me bare-assed on his lap while he kisses my neck and scrapes his teeth along my collarbone. I whimper when he sucks and licks, flames of arousal growing between us. He moves me to his knee for seconds while he unfastens his buckle and pulls his hard, firm erection into his fist.

“We haven’t talked about birth control,” I whisper, a little afraid of where this will all take us.

The head of his hard cock meets my core, and I move involuntarily closer to him. I want him in me so badly I can hardly breathe.

He shakes his head, his eyes intent on mine. “Nothing between us, Lydia. Fucking nothing. You’ll have my babies, woman.” I half expect him to pound his chest and fist my hair, but he only holds my gaze.

I nod. “Yeah.”

I want children, too, when it happens naturally. I couldn’t walk away from this marriage—I tried, and I’m starting to realize… I’m not sure I want to.

With the first thrust, I throw my head back, anchoring myself on his shoulders, my arms wrapped around his strong neck. With the second, he’s splitting me open, and I whimper with need and want, my pleasure building as he thrusts in and nearly fully out of me before he plunges in my heat again and again. My head tips back, and he tears the top of my dress down so it pushes my full breasts up.

His mouth is on my nipple, his teeth grazing the tender bud while he thrusts in and out, his thick cock pulsing inside me. I’m losing myself to him as I near climax, as I near surrender. My need builds and grows until it encompasses my entire being. My eyelids flutter closed. The flames around us flicker and ebb as my ecstasy erupts.

I scream as I come, pleasure flooding me. I throw my head back as his hot seed lashes into me. His bite becomes savage, his grip nearly painful.

“I love you, Lydia,” he growls, more of a fiery claim than a flowery whim. “I love you, whether you know it or not, and I will continue to tell you this until one day, someday, you actually believe me.” He thrusts again as we climax in unison, joined in our pleasure.

There’s some kind of cognitive dissonance to his words and my ability to accept them.

How?

When my breathing begins to steady, he settles me in a chair and reaches for a blanket. He wordlessly kisses my temple before he rises. A few moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth and a dry towel. First, he inspects me with a frown, likely looking to see if he’s broken skin or bit too hard.

“Not this time, tiger,” I say with a wink. “You’ll have to try again. I love the way you clean me up after you’ve defiled me,” I say, only half teasing. “The way you’re so gentle with me after you’ve fucked me hard.”

“It’s the least I can do. I’m blinded when we make love. I worry I’ll hurt you when I unleash on you.”

It’s only been minutes since I came, and still, hearing him say unleash makes my pulse race all over again.

“Eh,” I say with a shrug. “I can take a lot more than that.”

His gaze on me intensifies. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I’m too languid to build a fire, so I watch him do it. We sit in silence until the flame dies to glowing embers. I feel a profound sense of peace and acceptance.

“I had no idea I needed this.” I look at him. “Thank you, Viktor, for showing me that I can have this without fear.”

“You're stronger than you know.”

I wonder as I sit before the fire encased in brick…

Am I something to be controlled? Something to be held back? Or will I be consumed in the flames?

What if I lose myself to him?

I reach for another match, the question hanging in the air between us, waiting to be answered.