16. Mila

16

MILA

M y pussy throbbed as the last waves of my orgasm crested through me. Each time the fluttering sensations coursed through me, I shivered and breathed deeper.

It was… nothing like what I'd expected. So good, but too fast. Left alone while he went to the bathroom, I lay there and blanked out. Staring at the ceiling was all I could do to preoccupy myself, but I was too restless to truly zone out.

My body had never felt so charged, yet relaxed. This all-consuming warmth and utter calm wasn't like anything I'd ever experienced before. Better than any time I'd pleasured myself. Even better than when he'd made me come earlier. The let-down after sex was a heady sensation, and I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the intensity of what had just happened. Even though I was limp, my limbs deprived of energy as I sank onto the mattress, my mind was awake and racing.

I couldn't believe he'd just…

Taken me. He hadn't waited. He hadn't asked . Or I supposed he had, but it was a sketchy consent that he'd taken from me, implied by my arousal. The bastard had gotten me so worked up and ready for him, slick with my cream and begging with moans and whimpers. Yes, I had wanted him to fuck me, but now that it was over…

What have I done?

I furrowed my brows as I stared at the cracked ceiling.

What have I done? Nothing. I didn't do a single damn thing. He'd taken me. He'd tied me up and kept me captive, yet I couldn't cry rape. Although I had my doubts—evidenced by my nervousness about the action—I'd welcomed him into my body. I lacked the sexual knowledge to be confident about losing my virginity after twenty-two years of protecting it, but my ignorance didn't equal a lack of consent, not really.

I hadn't done a damn thing. He'd been the one to do it all, but deep down, I couldn't hold it against him. He'd turned me on, both with his hands and mouth as well as with what he said.

He wanted me, and hearing him express that desire felt entirely different from what other men had instilled in me. Yes, Alek had taken me when I had no real way to reject him, but if it had been Andrey, or Geoff, or any other horny man in our world, they would've been harsh.

Alek returned, and I tried my best to shelve my thoughts. He'd pulled on sweatpants but hadn't bothered with a shirt.

"Here," he said. Just that one simple word, full of his usual dominance as he knelt on the bed and reached for my legs.

"No. Wait. What are you?—"

He firmed his lips in a thin line and shot me a hard look. Impatient and frustrated, two things he often showed me, but I didn't care. He grabbed my thighs and parted my legs, not too gently. I tensed, unsure what he had in mind until he lifted his other hand. In it, he held a wet washcloth, and I held my breath as he brought it to me. With sweeping swipes, he cleaned me up. He left twice more to rinse out the rag and continue to wipe me down. I hadn't missed the tinge of red on the white terry cloth, and I frowned at the visual evidence of my virginal blood.

Mine. The blood was mine, and it would never happen again. He'd taken something no other man would ever have, and it filled me with a deep spike of indignation. Not only had he taken it as he pleased, but he'd done it so quickly.

I didn't speak. I kept all my thoughts and opinions locked inside as he continued to clean me up like it was the most normal thing to do in the world. He concentrated, checking that he'd removed all the sticky cum and smears of blood. And he didn't make eye contact once.

It reminded me of how I'd done this very thing for Rosamund. This… aftercare. I was the only one who helped that woman clean up after her violently brutal scenes with her husband, my father, and whichever other men wanted in on the action.

Having someone tend to me was an extraordinary experience, and I struggled to reconcile how the man so tenderly cleaning me up could be the same brute who'd kidnapped me.

He didn't stop there. After bringing the blanket around me and making sure I was comfortable and no longer exposed, he brought over a bottle of water and food. Again, he was seeing to my needs. Without my having to ask or speak up about my basic needs, he delivered.

I wouldn't let it get to my head. He wasn't doting on me, but with his lack of conversation, the lack of his saying anything at all or even looking at me, it felt weird.

I couldn't tell whether he was seeing to me afterward like this out of misplaced responsibility or guilt. Or… I didn't know what. Alek tending to me was the very last thing I'd counted on.

As he reclaimed his spot on the bed, sitting next to me but not touching me, he didn't give the impression of caring. He avoided contact, it seemed, but it didn't feel like a cold detachment.

I was… his. I could sense that change. Even if he hadn't proclaimed his intentions to take me before he did the deed, his nearness spoke of a possessive nature.

I was claimed. No longer clean as a bride. My one value, my main asset, was stolen and tossed away by this man, and I fought the urge to lash out at him.

"Now what?"

He turned to face me, his brows raised at my outburst. The apartment had been so quiet and still for so long, my loud voice was jarring.

"Now what?" I repeated as the burn of tears threatened in my eyes. Did he think ahead to that? Had he considered what he'd really just done here? I was no longer a virgin. I no longer had any value or worth. None at all. I was used up.

All my life, I'd known my purpose. To serve the bratva men. I was a pawn. A usable, disposable thing , not a person, and now that he'd ripped my worth from me, I felt empty and useless. Discarded.

"I told you," he repeated as he lowered to lie next to me, facing me but not touching.

I wrestled with my bindings, and I damned them all over again. Shame crested through me at the memory of how I'd used them to push against him so I could feel the full, deep hit of his dick inside me, but now, as I struggled to acclimate to the fact that I was no longer a virgin, I loathed the constraints all over again.

"I'm… I'm nothing now. Just used up and?—"

"Hey." He set one hand on my stomach, pushing down as I writhed and fought to get free. "Calm down."

"No!" I glowered at him, hating that he saw the tears leaking from my eyes. "I will not calm down."

"It's better this way."

"Better?" I sassed. " Better ? I'm good for absolutely nothing now."

He shook his head, calm but irked with my outburst. "It's better this way."

"What?" I snapped, wishing I could punch his smug face. " What is better this way?"

His eyes turned flinty with annoyance, but I didn't give a shit. I had every right to react however I saw fit.

"You'd better watch your mouth."

"Don't tell me?—"

He reached over and gripped my jaw. "If I hadn't shown up at the church and stopped the wedding, you would've been his wife by now."

I stilled, letting his words sink through the chaos in my mind. With clarity, I understood his point, and the ramifications of what he'd prevented chilled me. Instead of losing my virginity to Alek, I would have done so with my husband. Andrey.

Alek was a hard man, but I saw now that he could be soft inside too. He hadn't dismissed me and left me bloody, cold, and thirsty on the bed after he took me. He'd come back and tried to make me as comfortable as possible.

"You realize that?"

I sniffled, not wanting to give in and nod.

"He would've been the one to fuck you, not me. Right?"

I looked down, but he tipped my face up so I would have to maintain eye contact.

"He would have abused you. Passed you around like a fucking trophy to share."

My blood turned to ice. Just like Rosamund's fate. The idea of being given to multiple strangers in a gang bang… God, no. I couldn't help how quickly I shuddered, repulsed by the possibility of such a horror.

"You knew this. You knew going into that wedding that he would have taken you however he saw fit."

I frowned at him, wishing I could retort that he'd done the same thing. As the thought rushed through my mind, I refused to believe it. Alek had been rough, but he hadn't been cruel. I couldn't hold that against him, and in a sick, stupid way, I knew that this man was the lesser of two evils of what I could have accepted as my fate.

"Don't try to tell me you're outraged. You said it yourself. You've always understood your purpose. To serve your bratva men. To be in an arranged marriage."

"I know. But?—"

"But nothing." He released my jaw with a firm jerk, almost angry with my attitude.

As he lay back on the bed, no longer facing me, he stared at the ceiling. "You ask what's next, but I can't understand how you can act so clueless."

"Clueless?"

"Yes, clueless. What the fuck do you think will happen?" He rolled his head on the pillow to smirk at me. "I'm not taking you back to your father. He wants you dead, remember? He's put a fucking hit on your head."

The stark reminder cut at my heart. It was such an ugly, dark truth to hear, no better news this time than it was when Yusef revealed it.

"If you'd married Andrey, he would have fucked you up. Abused you. Mutilated you."

I swallowed hard, knowing he wasn't talking out of his ass. I'd heard the horror stories.

"He would have shared you and discarded you like a fuck toy."

But you haven't. No one else was here to share me with, but I doubted it would have entered Alek's mind. He looked at me with such a possessive intensity. He'd covered my breasts when Yusef burst in. I didn't get the impression that Alek shared, not his women, not anything.

At the same time, I was too guarded to assume his actions and attitude could mean that he cared. I wouldn't let him dupe me into thinking he held me in some kind of high esteem to care about me that much.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're mine now, Mila."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Yeah, as your whore." A used-up virgin. It stung to know I would still be a thing .

"No." He didn't face me as he argued. "No. I'll marry you."

He'd tossed out that ridiculous claim before he fucked me, and in the heat of the moment, I'd been quick to dismiss it as him talking big.

I watched him look at me, dead in the eyes. "I'm going to marry you, Mila."

Shock rippled through me as the realization dawned. He actually meant it. He intended to make me his bride, his wife.

He truly planned to make me his wife. From the altar of my arrangement to be connected with another man to this dingy apartment where I remained tied up, my marital status had changed drastically.

Marry Alek? I stared at him, waiting for him to admit it was crazy talk.

He didn't. He gazed right back at me, cool, calm, and confident about his plan.

I shared no such smug confidence. All I could think about was how he intended to involve me in this war among men.

He planned to drag me all the way through it right by his side.