Page 22 of Killer Love

I will not live my life in chains.

Luka’s body goes tense, his fingers digging into my soft rear. I hold him closer, feeling every twitch and jolt of his muscles as climax surges through him. He pushes in as deep as he can go and my insides quiver around him as he holds it there.

I close my eyes and I feel his heat inside of me. Thousands of lives are created every day. If a merciful deity truly exists in this world, then he’ll choose this moment to bless me with — not tomorrow night or the night after. If he truly cared for me, then he’d save my life tonight.

Luka raises his head to look at me. His cheeks are bright pink. A thin layer of sweat coats his brow. We stare into each other’s eyes, listening as our hearts slowly stop pounding and he grows soft inside of me. When he finally pulls out, I feel a twinge of bittersweetness.

I tighten my muscles, refusing to let a single drop of him free as I remain seated. I let my dress tumble back down to my ankles as Luka zips himself up. He moves away from me and avoids my eyes.

“Once we leave this room, this never happened,” he says.

I nod, knowing he can’t see it. “If it ever gets out—”

“I’ll deny it.”

It’s what I promised him. No one will ever know. I won’t ask him for anything else.

But it still hurts.

“Of course,” I say. “I will, too.”

He reaches for his jacket on the wall and as he slides it onto his arms, he finally glances at me again. “Good luck to you, Sofia.”

“Wait…”

I hop off the table and step toward him. He regards me with a lingering gaze as I push onto my toes to kiss him one last time. He doesn’t move but his lips twitch against mine, closed mouth and chaste.

“Thank you, Luka,” I whisper.

I sense the hesitation in him. He holds his breath, pausing for an eternity before he leans down to return the kiss. It lasts no longer than a second — like a quick peck between acquaintances. Just two old friends passing each other by before returning to their busy lives.

He pulls the door open and disappears into the garden.

* * *

I step into the chapel and all eyes fall on me.

A string quartet plays me in, sliding their bows to the tune of Here Comes the Bride, and I throw one foot in the front of the other. When I did this yesterday, it felt as though I was walking through quicksand. Each step felt heavier and closer to death.

But not today.

Today, I feel lighter, and that’s not only because I no longer have to wear that hideous black tarp. Today, I wear white. The color of virginal purity. Freshly fallen snow. The perfect Zappia bride.

I hold back my laugh.

Gio rolls my veil over my head and he looks at me for the first time in weeks. He smiles and I force a smile in return, staring a hole right through him to the man standing behind him.

Luka Lutrova.

He keeps his eyes down, possibly the only person in the room not gawking at me. I say another silent thank you to him for it. It somehow makes me feel even closer to him. Here we stand, the only two people in the world in on the joke and we always will be.

The priest begins by reading a bible verse but his voice echoes on through me. I feel my smile take hold of my face again. Everyone will assume my grin is because of Gio, but I know better. Luka knows better.

If the Zappias want the perfect bride, then I’ll be the perfect bride for them. For years, they’ll think that’s exactly what I am. Kind, doting. Submissive.

In the end, they’ll all be in for a surprise.

Gio takes the ceremonial knife from the priest and my fingers twitch.

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