16. Anastasia

SIXTEEN

Anastasia

I can’t stop thinking about the puppy, my mind has even developed a Vitali voice and conjures up theories like he would. Fucking someone bare has a certain level of intimacy, you can feel each way they move and flex, that’s why he’s in my head. Whatever he said or did to Borya has my mother being nice to me; she doesn’t speak to me, which is the nicest, most loving thing the bitter cunt is capable of.

The jazz music floats through my headphones, so I don’t have to think in preparation of the fucked-up things I’ll witness at the auction tonight, and I start on my research. Vanya knows someone who has managed to get me in, and her head pops up as she walks in without knocking. If it was anyone else I’d call them a rude fuck but it’s not intentional because she doesn’t have the same social understanding as other people.

Despite her being absolutely, certifiably insane and terrifying, she’s the one person I don’t feel judged by.She’s one of the only people I don’t try to hide from and the scar under her jaw is highlighted by the dark ink on her neck. The jagged line doesn’t have any emotion on her face, she just accepts life and moves on; I wish I could do the same.

There’s a duffel bag in her hands and she drops it beside the sofa before examining the screen with her anger coming out.

“I know them two at the back.”

I push my headphones down, letting them rest around my neck as she climbs over the back of the sofa and grabs my laptop to stare at the image. Her jaw hardens and she adds, “Casey and Roberts. They only buy for parts and use the bodies for transport.”

Thankfully she changes the conversation and pulls out a bunch of random shit from the bag.“You’ll see The 3, they all wear cufflinks and they’ll bid on different things. Rowan won’t be there because there’s no children, but I think the other two will be.”

I’m half intrigued and half in fear of my life at the things she knows when the door opens and Vitali walks in as though he belongs here. Vanya has a key, but that prick doesn’t, and I’m dressed like a slob, like my true self, making my voice rougher.

“Knock, you rude fuck.”

The asshole stands on the wrong side of the door and taps his knuckles against the wood, shouting, “Honey, I’m home.”

Vanya laughs and stares between the two of us as he kicks the door closed before pouncing on me and grabbing my shoulders in an attempt to pull me over the sofa. I lash out verbally and throw my elbow back.

“Get off me, you freak.”

Vanya is officially my favorite when she slaps him in the mouth with the back of her hand then sets my laptop on the table without even exerting any energy.

“Don’t touch her if she doesn’t like it.” She smiles innocently at me, and I’ve never been more thankful a psycho likes me.

Vitali bullshits an excuse to get rid of her that makes her smile drop. “Your dad was looking for you, something about the fight tonight, and he’s going to kick Dima’s ass if he lets you go to it.”

He’s such a dickhead and she believes him, storming off to go to war with Vlad.I don’t think he’s supposed to let it slip that she’s Vlad’s daughter in front of me. Around everyone else she’s still called Ana, but she told me herself when she had one of her strange meltdowns and started talking to herself.

When the door closes, I look up and he remains at the back of the sofa as he bends to press his lips to my forehead, forcing me to ask, “You’re not good at keeping secrets, are you?”

He pauses and strokes across my jaw with the full expanse of his hand. His words are slow, timed with the caress, as he says, “Not from you, malysh.” His voice drops to a whisper weighted with emotion. “I’d give you everything if you let me.”

The emotion infuses guilt into my bones. He deserves better, and I selfishly want to keep him in some part of my life which is only possible like this. Moving his arm off me, I sit forward and ignore how cold it makes me as he steps around the sofa.

His eyes track my body; it’s all covered after having to parade around in a dress too small for me but the lust in his eyes is no different. Blocking Vitali out before he can start speaking, I push my headphones back on and go through the list of people who might be there. Live listen is switched on and I can hear him talk to himself as he sits beside me with his food. He always orders the most amazing smelling things and I’m staring at my screen too hard when he waves his burger in my face. “Have a bite, it’s not going to kill you.”

My lips twitch at the memory and I repeat the words he once said to me. “It might just save your life.”

I’ve replayed that conversation for years; it was such a dumb thing to say but it worked.

The world is coming to an end, and I look up to see how it happens when Vitali sets his food down. There’s no building falling down or the sky ripping open through the window, but he grabs my laptop and puts it on the table. He’s gentler with my headphones and the authoritative voice comes out once I’m stripped of a distraction.

“Why did you say that?”

I refuse to get into a conversation about someone that doesn’t exist anymore and grab the bag Vanya left. He’s staring at me, but I just leave him to his food.

“Eat, I need to shower and get ready.”

I can’t blurt out the truth; he’ll get all sad and weird, he feels too much, it’s why he blacks out when he’s fighting and forces that grin on his face every day.

I leave the bag in my room and go into the bathroom, setting the water on the hottest temperature, so it removes everything else from my body and just warms more than my skin. I have a routine before we go to do any of the rescues. Wash every emotion away and bring my mind to calm with jazz, it’s the same every time, but now I have a puppy and I nearly blind myself when he walks into the bathroom as I’m shampooing my hair. Vitali doesn’t follow me under the spray, he leans against the sink with his arms over his chest and ankles crossed. Why is that attractive? He tortured me here last time, but I’m focused on his posture rather than the memory.

He stares at his shoes, lost in thought, and there’s no smile on his face or food in his hand. He slowly looks up and examines me, not my body but my face as though he’s testing it against a memory.

“Why did you say it, Anastasia?”

I don’t answer and give him my back as I focus on not getting shampoo in my eyes.

He repeats himself, unhappy with being ignored. “Asya, tell me.”

Because I remember his words every time I sink and it’s a high, teenage Vitali who made me feel like it’s possible to be someone else. The voice that builds me up is his, a stupid comment about how I could kill myself and grow into someone else to kill those who made me feel like that is all I’ve got on repeat when I’m drowning again. But it’s mine and I don’t need to share it with anyone because the girl he said it to doesn’t exist and he never knew her other than that one moment.

Finishing my shower that did nothing to relax me, I wrap a towel around me, and he pushes off the marble vanity. There’s no more questions from him, they’re all in my head as he grabs another towel and squeezes the excess water out of my hair. Maneuvering around his body, I stay silent and focus on thin air as I brush through my hair. There’s a knot building at my nape, and I roughly drag through it to break the atmospheric and physical tension.

He tuts at me and peels my fingers off the handle, then stands behind me, grooming me, and there’s no tug on my scalp as he tries to make me open up. “Verochka always has a bird’s nest on her head when she wakes up, you should see that shit before Inessa manages to untangle it all.”

His attempt at a sharing circle isn’t going to work, he’s talking about happy family times while wanting my darkest shit in return. Once he’s successfully untangled my hair, he wraps his arms around me from behind and my heart slows down to the point it feels like it’s stopped.

He doesn’t look away from me through the mirror. His lips press against my pulse point, and he leans his cheek against my temple. The air in my lungs freezes at being caught out and the sadness in his voice wrecks me.

“I wouldn’t have pushed you then and I won’t now, one day you’ll talk to me, Stasi.”

My hands move, hugging his arms and emotion burns the back of my throat. I was lost, sick of being beaten and ridiculed every day of my life for simply existing. If I tell Vitali that it will only happen again, I will become that person again if I breathe life into the memories.

Why do I feel like it’s safe with his arms around me?

He keeps his word and holds me despite the depth in his icy eyes begging me. His eyes slowly close and he takes a controlled breath that pushes his chest into my back. Panic overtakes me when he straightens and I hold myself rigid, waiting for him to leave, but he presses his lips to my crown with a hopeful whisper, “One day.”

My throat constricts, knowing our versions of one day are polar opposites. Mine is based in reality – one day he won’t be here. His is based in delusions – one day I’ll allow him into my head.

I don’t have to focus on my own life as we enter the venue of tonight’s auction. Vitali’s hand doesn’t leave my ass after he pointed out Genevieve would recognize me, and I’m back to being the airhead. My story sells the image we need, and she looks disappointed that I escaped her clutches by impaling myself on his. She stands back, assessing everyone as we make our way to the private booth assigned to us. The raised edge at the back of the room is the only thing fully lit up and I can’t make out anyone’s features as we pass them.

Each group has enough privacy to give them the illusion that they’re alone without anyone else having enough light to see them clearly. I have to actively remind myself that we can’t bid on everyone without drawing attention to ourselves as I slip into the booth. The shadows swallow me and allow me to remove the bullshit persona as Vitali pulls me closer to his side before hauling me up and depositing me on his thigh. His lips touch my cheek, and he keeps his voice low so no one else can hear.

“I need you to stop me killing these cunts.”

The auction hasn’t even started, it’s just a rundown of what ‘items’ will be shown, but I keep forgetting that he’s not used to how sick the world is.I’m only good for one thing when it comes to what he needs, and I palm his dick through his slacks. His fingers tighten on my hip, and he drags me closer, asking for the same thing as always.

“Talk to me, sweetness.”

My hand is on his hard dick, but he wants to have a conversation. It was a joke at first, something I laughed off and managed to escape, now it’s torture having to find different excuses to avoid anything beyond surface level. Everything in my head is dark. Dark thoughts and impulses that won’t make sense to his sunny mind.

Soft lips press under my jaw before he fills my silence.

“I want to know you, not just your body. Tell me your favorite color, your biggest dream or fear, your favorite food, anything as long as it’s real.”

The gluttonous shithead would think of his stomach even when he’s being sweet. I’m not the only one hiding and defensiveness controls my tongue as I ask, “How often does your knee hurt?”

We all have off switches, topics that we’ll avoid and have the power to stop everything. Vitali’s is physical and he tenses as I gently wrap my fingers around his knee.

Massaging the inside of the joint with my thumb, I relax, knowing he’s not going to start playing twenty questions again. Answering them would only have more coming up and he’d end up hating me or getting too close. The answers aren’t something that I even have to search for.

I don’t have a favorite color, only ones that fit each situation.

My biggest dream is dying to escape, my biggest fear is dying knowing I’ll be alone.

I don’t have a favorite food because I’ve stuck to the same style of diet my mother drilled into my head when I was eleven – enough to survive but never enjoy.

Six words that will be on my headstone that will never be visited as the perfect descriptor of my life.

The auction starts and the first group are led out. Children trained to be killers ripe for any of the sick fucks to use; they’re given the best option out of the whole line up. They can kill instead of dying themselves. Vitali doesn’t shut up and I don’t stop him trying to force this shit out of his head.

“I’ve got a theory. Someone made you think you’re unlovable, they saw how fucking perfect you are and wanted to destroy you to make themselves feel better.”

His voice is low and gentle, trying to convince me of whatever his mind has concocted.

Becca is led out first in the next group and I pinch his side, making the puppy disappear. Vitali’s anger is comforting, it’s always in defense of people. There are no similarities between Kristi and Becca, it’s obvious they don’t share the same set of parents with being different races, but I always thought that siblings would have something to show the world they’re bonded. I can see it when she tries to headbutt the fucker dragging her in front of the room, and I can’t stop my smile.

Vitali doesn’t have the same reaction; his face is set in hard lines and his grip on me turns bruising. I shift my hips to get away from his hand and he blinks back into the room. He softly kisses my cheek in apology and flattens his hand on the outside of my thigh. This part of him is terrifying, he’s splitting his mind and disappearing right in front of me, and I lay my head on his shoulder, giving in to the game we play while he raises his hand on the bids.

“I’ve always wanted to try one of those burgers you get.”

His chest lowers my body as he lets out his gratitude. It’s not thanks for answering but keeping him here.

Each raise of his hand is timed with more honesty.

“Inessa used to be my best friend and I stopped talking to her when my dad died.” He softly strokes my thigh, and I can’t shut my mouth. “I miss him, he was the only person who called me Stasya, and it felt like it was his name for me. It’s why I made everyone call me Stasi after he died. But…”

It’s also why I hate Borya for stealing it.

“But?” he repeats.

“But I’ve never been to his grave because he would be ashamed of me and I’m not his daughter anymore.”

Vitali’s lips part as he tenses, and he speaks without moving them.

“I think we’re being watched.”

I try to turn my head, but he grabs my throat, keeping me in place. His features are harsher, and I’m roughly dragged off his thigh to kneel between his legs as he extends his voice.

“It’s not your job to think, suck my dick like the whore you are.”

The only softness exists in his thumb as he strokes a line under my ear. He lifts his hips up and doesn’t look at me as his jaw tenses.

“If you use your teeth, I’ll pull them out as your punishment.”

My nape heats and he was right that we were being watched. Something moves in the shadows surrounding the booth and I shakily undo his belt. He’s not fully hard as I take him out, it’s strange when I’m used to seeing his dick pointing at me all the time. It settles me that he’s not able to fully let go in this environment, proof that he’s not being ruined by it and Vitali is still his usual happy self underneath it.

I slowly move forward as he tightens his fingers around my neck. There’s no commentary and he doesn’t look at me. I can hear how hard he’s tensing his jaw, but I’m fucked up and watch him as I slowly wrap my lips around the tip of his dick. I move my tongue in a wave against his slit and he hardens. It goes to my head as I show that one inch my care. I win when he breaks composure and grabs the back of my head and pushes down until I’m choking around him, his dick is fully buried in my throat and my gags are muted into his groin.

There’s no thrusting, he just keeps me there and increases his bid. My air is cut off and spit pools on his crotch, but he keeps me still and pulses his hand on my throat, restricting my air further until the bidding comes to an end.