Page 6 of Ivory Ashes

“You said Trofim wasn’t a good fit for this world.”

“He wasn’t.”

“But now, I’m not a good fit, either? Why not?” It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care, actually. Still, I find myself adding, “Is that why I’ve never seen you with a woman before? Because no one is good enough for you?”

He’s silent for a moment. His breath rasps in his chest, his throat, past his lips in plumes of mint and champagne. Then he sighs.

“Leave,” he snarls even as he shifts closer to me. My hip brushes against his leg.

I stretch onto my toes. “You don’t want to honor the deal our fathers made because you think you’re better than me.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when Mikhail’s hand grips my neck. His thumb works into my pulse point as he tilts my head back so he’s towering over me. “This has nothing to do with me being better than you.”

I swallow, my neck bobbing against his fingers. “Then what’s it about?”

He dips his head. More mint and sweet champagne wash over me as he whispers, “It’s about me being the worst possible thing for you.”

Who could be worse than Trofim?

Mikhail seems to see the question in my frown. He slides closer. His erection pushes against the lace of my nightgown and my eyes flare wide.

“My brother wanted you for a wife. He wanted an alliance. I couldn't care less about that. Fuck the deal our fathers made." His thumb strokes possessively along the column of my neck. "There is only one thing I want from you, Viviana."

“Take it,” I breathe.

It’s out of me before I can stop myself.

Mikhail shakes his head and walks me backwards. His long legs brush against mine until I fall back onto the bed.

“You shouldn’t let yourself be someone’s pawn. Not in this world.” He looks down at me for a second before he wraps his big hands around my hips and jerks me to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to teach you why.”

3

VIVIANA

“Trofim didn’t deserve this,” he muses as he strokes the outer curve of my ass, discovering an erogenous zone I didn’t know existed five seconds ago.

Didn’t deserve me?

No, he must mean sex in general.

I tend to agree. For the sake of the human race and future generations, Trofim and his evil seed shouldn’t be allowed near any vaginas.

“Trofim and I never… We didn’t… It was part of the arrangement. He never even came to my apartment.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to explain, but I do.

As soon as Iakov Novikov informed his son he couldn’t touch me until we were married, I expected Trofim to throw a temper tantrum. Our engagement was planned by our respective paternal overlords to be just over six months long. That kind of celibacy was a lot to ask, even for me. Not that I had any desire to do the dirty with Trofim.

But the only desire Trofim had was to knock me around.

“You were together for six months.” Mikhail sounds confused. Like that math isn’t even close to mathing. Six months with no sex? Impossible.

I can practically hear his thoughts now. What’s the point of living if I can’t rip off my shirt and ravage maidens on the daily?

To be fair, as a maiden about to be ravaged, I get it. The promise of seeing what’s going on beneath Mikhail’s shirt is the current singular focus of my life.

“I’m sure six months without sex is like a lifetime for you,” I drawl.

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