Page 66 of Bloody Tainted Lies

“So do it,” she replies earnestly. “I don’t want to keep fighting this between us anymore.”

“Give yourself to me.”

“I did, Nik.” Her eyes are sad, and I can tell she’s hurting and looks almost guilty. Of what I don’t know.

“Do it again,” I breathe against her lips, giving her a chaste kiss, a second, a third. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me again.”

“I’m yours, Nik,” she replies softly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

I know exactly what she’s referring to, and it makes me tense. I pull out of her quickly and spread her legs again. “It made me hate you, you know,” I confess, my voice more of a growl. “I wanted to kill you.” Except the ocean took care of that, so maybe I can find it in my heart to forgive her. Maybe. “But just look at you so full of me,solnyshko.” I push my cum back into her. “Look at this pretty little cunt full ofme.” I groan. “I don’t give a fuck about what you did anymore.”

I bend down to taste us and moan again, and her legs close around my head. She bucks her hips against my mouth and groans. “You’re sick,” She says with a chuckle.

“And you’re just like me.” I smirk as I shift away from her. “So let’s be sick together.”

“What do I taste like, baby?” she asks, and my spine tingles again, butterflies in my stomach from just one word.

“Like mine, Camilla.”

She grins at that, closing her eyes again, and I get a warm rag to wipe her down. Once done, I slip back into bed with her, loving the feel of her body against mine and closing my eyes when she begins to breathe heavily again.

When did I start caring about her again? Oh, that’s right, I never stopped. She’s always done this to me, had me head over heels for her. With no control over myself or my feelings. And that’s the scariest part of all.

17 Years Old

Oleg Pavlov is not the type of man you fuck with, and yet I keep taunting him, pissing him off. It’s easy to achieve. We hate each other, after all. Ever since he killed my mom for adultery seven years ago, we have been at odds. She may have messed up by doing that, broken the rules, but she didn’t deserve death. At least not in my eyes.

My mother was a kind woman, the type to bake you cookies on a Monday and wipe your tears for any reason, no questions asked. She used to be my shoulder to cry on when my father was an asshole to me, and I miss her so much it hurts. Now it’s easier, however. Even without anyone to fall back on, to comfort me, I don’t feel like I need it anymore. It’s probably because I’ve had to learn to go without it.

I’ve been struggling with my precalculus class for the past few weeks, and no matter how much I try to study or pass the quizzes, I just can’t seem to make it through. Which is now pissing off my father. I am expected to be the perfect child because I’m theonlychild, the heir to an empire. Well, fuck that. I can’t bear that weight on my shoulders.

“You’re a piece of shit!” My dad yells. “You’re supposed to inherit a whole empire; succeed me! Stupid boys can’t fucking lead, Nikolai. Get yourself together.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I seethe. “You don’t get to talk to me like this. Not after Mom.”

“You’re my son.” Hell no, I’m not. “And I’ll talk to you however I want. You live undermyroof, I pay for your school, and I give youeverything, you ungrateful asshole.”

“No one is asking you to!”

“If you weren’t going to be Pakhan, I wouldn’t give a fuck. But I have an image to preserve.”

“I don’t care about your image!” I yell. “Ihateyou. Stop trying to direct my life!”

“You insolent brat. You need to learn to watch your mouth,” my dad says as he walks closer to me, throwing a punch to my face. I hear my nose crack, then blood spurts out of it and runs down my face. I hiss in pain. “Now get the hell out of my sight.”

I do, I leave. Not daring to look back. This would be the moment my mom would swoop in and save me, comfort me, kiss my boo-boos. But she’s not here anymore, and I need to stop thinking of the what-ifs. I have to remember she’s gone and never coming back. Thanks to him.

When I reach my car, I set my nose back into place, gripping the base and yanking quickly before I can think twice. My eyes water and tears stream down my face, and I grab a Kleenex from the glove compartment to wipe the blood off. Milla is going to freak out when she sees this, and I bet there’s dried blood even as I’m wiping as fast as I can. I knew I should’ve had baby wipes in my car.

When I get to the park, I leave my car in one of the furthest spots. I don’t want anyone to recognize my vehicle and know why I’m here. To this day, no one has ever come here at the time we do. To be fair, nine p.m. is too late for children to go to the playground, which is why it’s perfect.

The mulch crunches under my feet, slightly wet and muddy from the melting snow. When I make it to the playground, Milla is sitting in our usual spot. She has a blanket under her that seems waterproof and is reading something on her Kindle. I come around to sit next to her, waiting for the moment when she looks up and freaks out. Just as I suspected, the moment her eyes meet my face she gasps loudly, her eyes welling with tears.

“What. Happened,” she grits out. “Did your father do this?”

I nod once, “It’s okay, princess.” I assure her. And it is. I’m used to the beatings, the abuse. It’s been going on for so long you could say it’s all I’ve ever known from him. “I’m here now, and you make everything better.”

“Come lie down.” She pats the blanket and I go sit on it, then lie on my side. “What did you do for him to flip out now? And don’t say nothing because somethingalwayssets him off.”

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