33. Alena

This place is as close to paradise as a girl is gonna get.

I've been here just over a week, and I've been wanting for nothing. Within the first few days, Kristof handed me the key to the gigantic library that takes up most of the West Wing. The dust sheets prove how often this room was used—although, in Alyona's words, it's simply because she has better things to do than read. A quick dust, rearranging a few pieces of furniture, and the place is a haven.

Kristof explained that his mother had been a big reader and his father an extravagant collector, so when they came together, the library was a culmination of both their passions. Several books are so rare and expensive that they're locked behind glass cases, and each time I pass them, they whisper to me about what could be inside.

I spend hours in that library, making my way through hundreds of Russian folktales and adventure stories and learning about pieces of my birth culture I otherwise would have been blind to. Time doesn't exist there, and if it weren't for my personal bodyguard, Chek, reminding me to eat, the library would surely swallow me up with its mysteries.

When I'm not reading, Nastja spends her time taking me shopping.

Despite the Manor seemingly being in the middle of nowhere, there are several towns within driving distance that we spend hours in, browsing through boutiques and draping ourselves in fashion I could only dream about back home. Everything purchased is because I like it, not because it's an expensive gift to compensate for an absence or neglect. Anything I desire that can't be found in those towns is ordered in. In a blink, I'm utterly spoiled with anything and everything I could ever want, from clothes and shoes to designer jewelry and even a dress made by a designer who creates exclusively for the British Royal Family.

In a short time, Nastja becomes the sister I never had, and her companionship grows on me. She's full of life and sass, taking no shit from anyone on top of always looking fabulous. I find myself wanting to be like her, strong and beautiful, with the world at my feet. She softens the pain I feel from missing Katja and even helps me pick out a few slinky pieces of lingerie to surprise Kristof with.

They go down very well.

Ivan is more withdrawn than Nastja, but he still spends time with me. He set up a cinema room next to the library with every film and show I could ever possibly want to watch. I don't ask how he gets his hands on movies that aren't even out yet. The one time I commented on it, he simply winked at me and walked away.

This place is paradise.

The most heartwarming aspect is getting to see Kristof with his family. Despite being stressed, he seems more relaxed here than I ever saw him back in America. Maybe it's the Russian air or being back around his home that keeps a certain lightness in his step, but it warms my heart each day I see it and warms my soul each night he comes to bed and bundles me in his arms.

I'm falling in love with him. That much is clear now.

The obsessive infatuation I felt for him is slowly fading, being replaced with something much deeper and stronger than I could ever imagine.

Yes, he stole me away. But he saved me.

He taught me things and gave me space to learn about myself, and now he's pampering me beyond relief.

I'm definitely falling in love with him.

It dwells on the outskirts of my mind as I sit curled up in a chair far too big for me and re-read the page of the story in front of me. Too often, I get eagerly drawn into a book and accidentally skip a paragraph. My other hand toys with the collar around my neck, tracing familiar stitching as I try to focus.

Fingers slide down the pages from above, and I glance up with a smile. Kristof stands over me, a light smile playing on his lips, and when we lock eyes, his smile widens.

"Alena."

"Kristof."

"What are you reading?"

"A smutty retelling of Anastasia where Rasputin gets the girl." I slide my bookmark into place. "It's always sexier when the bad guy gets the girl."

"Is that what you like?" He slides onto the seat next to me, a sexy pillar of strength that sends my heart fluttering.

"Bad guys?" I prompt.

"Sure."

"Yes. There's something sexier about them, I think," I tease softly. "Bad guys have a distinct way of making you more important than the world."

"You're not waiting for some prince to come and rescue you?" Kristof leans close, his breath ghosting over my cheek, then he presses a lingering kiss to my temple.

"I don't want a prince." I chuckle. "I want the tyrant."

"Well, aren't you just a little fucked up."

"I wonder why." His mouth swallows my chuckle as his lips seal over mine, kissing me deeply. My heart skips a beat, and I seek an anchoring grip on his shirt. The fabric twists between my fingertips as I pull him closer, and he grunts softly.

I snatch another brief kiss when he pulls away, running my thumb over his short, well-kept facial hair.

"You look stressed."

"Life is stressful."

"Can I help?"

"You already do." Kristof's eyes flick over me, and he licks his lower lip.

"No, I mean really help. I can be of use, y'know. If you'd just talk to me. Let me know what's going on."

"Nothing you need to worry about," he insists. Then he drops a long, sleek blue box into my lap and smirks lightly. "Open it."

"Kristof, what is this?" Setting my book aside, I excitedly open the box and my heart stops.

Inside is an absolutely stunning diamond necklace that glitters like a thousand stars in the light of the nearby fireplace. The diamond surrounds all sorts of blue and red gemstones that sit inside the necklace, and a matching pair of studded earrings sits just beneath the clasp.

"Oh, my God," I gasp breathlessly. "Kristof, this—this is absolutely beautiful."

"Only the best for my girl," he says. He kisses the top of my head, then his hands move to the back of my neck. "This is your new collar."

"A new collar?"

"Yes."

The leather one around my throat unclasps and slips away, leaving an odd chill surrounding my neck in its absence.

"This one," Kristof says as he delicately takes it from the box, "is one you can wear anywhere. I noticed you take the leather one off when you go shopping with Nastja, so this way, you look beautiful and you're still clearly mine."

The cold metal closes snugly around my throat like a cold kiss, and Kristof clasps my new collar in place, sealing the clasp with a kiss and then draping my hair back over my shoulders.

Tears sting briefly at my eyes, and I lift one hand, running my fingers over the jewels.

"Thank you," I whisper, staring up at him. "It's so beautiful, I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll never take it off," Kristof says in a low voice, leaning closer to me.

"I'll never take it off."

"Swear it."

"I swear!"

Kristof surges forward and kisses me hard, stealing all air from my lungs, and a pulse of static washes through me from head to toe. My legs turn to jelly despite the fact that we're sitting, and when he finally breaks the kiss, I'm a little dizzy from excitement.

"But," I propose, glancing forlornly at the familiar leather collar, "can we keep that one? For playtime?"

"Sure," Kristof agrees easily, then he kisses me again.

There's nothing stopping him this time. When Kristof wants something, he takes it without warning, and nothing turns me on faster than the way he manhandles me to get what he wants. Strong hands grasp my waist and pull me to the edge of the chair as he slides to the floor. Then he burrows beneath my skirt and breathes hotly against my naked pussy.

"No panties."

"At your request," I reply breathlessly.

My legs drape over his shoulder, my head tips back, and I relax back in the chair as his tongue slides through my folds in repeating, sure strokes. Like always, he knows exactly where to touch, kiss, and lick to send my heartbeat racing and my temperature rising. Hot chills tingle down my skin and over my limbs as he presses his mouth harder against my pussy and utterly devours me. I twist in the chair, writhing back and forth. My mind quiets, and heat flushes through me, sending goosebumps across my skin. He laps at me, kisses and suckles my clit, and when his tongue dips inside me, I see stars.

My stomach twists, my core clenching rapidly. Both his hands slide around my thighs, gripping tightly and locking me against his mouth. I couldn't pull away even if I wanted to. My legs twitch involuntarily, sweat breaks out as a sheen against my skin, and the pleasure builds rapidly inside me.

Through it all, my new collar sits heavily and unfamiliarly against my throat, a glittering symbol of Kristof's desires.

My moans fall with each breath, and when Kristof himself moans against my pussy, sending tingling vibrations right through my core, I'm helpless. He's sending me toward an orgasm with little warning, and I'm completely at his mercy.

My orgasm hits with the force of a truck, and I almost double over, rising from the chair to meet my pinned thighs as pleasure pulses through me in strong, powerful waves. The books around us absorb my pleasure-filled cries, and every nerve inside me lights up like the flare of a firework.

Yes, I think warmly as Kristof continues to drag his tongue against me, coaxing me through my pleasure. This is paradise.

* * *

Paradise comes at a cost.

Hugging the toilet bowl the next morning, my breakfast leaves me quickly as I'm sick. Sweat breaks out down my back, and my heart pounds painfully in my ears. Another rippling cramp shoots through me, but when nothing follows, I lift one hand and flush the toilet. I turn away from the scent of cleaning products as the water flows and pull myself to my feet with a groan.

"Alena?" Alyona's voice drifts to me, and I spot her wrinkled face in the mirror as she peeks around the door.

"I'm okay," I assure her, waving one hand. Turning on the taps, I cup a palmful of cold water and splash it onto my face, rubbing around to the back of my neck where I squeeze the tense muscles there. It brings me a little relief.

"How long have you been sick?" she asks, moving fully into the bathroom.

I swallow painfully, wincing at the burn of acid lingering in my mouth, and fill the nearby cup with cold water.

"Uhm, I don't know. For as long as I've been here, I think. The change of scenery and the unfamiliar food aren't agreeing with me, I'm pretty sure." I wash a mouthful of water around my mouth and then spit it into the sink.

"There is nothing wrong with my food," Alyona scolds.

"I'm not saying there is," I correct her. "I'm just saying that it's different. My diet isn't used to it, that's all."

"No." Alyona tsks and points a wrinkled finger at me. "You are wrong."

Another mouthful hits the sink. Then I slowly turn to face her and brush some sweaty strands of hair away from my face.

"What?"

"Look at you," she mutters. "I knew the moment I saw you."

My heart skips a beat. "Knew what?"

"You are not sick." Alyona rummages in the front pocket of her apron and pulls out a small box that she thrusts into my hands.

"What?" My eyes drop to the box, and my heart stalls at the sight. I can't read the Russian text on the box, but I don't need to. The picture is enough.

"You see?" Alyona sighs. "You are pregnant. Take it. Take the test. You will see. You are with child."