Page 63 of Bound By Hate (Born in Blood)

I take the bite and chew it slowly, savoring it, while Aleksander cuts off another piece for me. Once again, I let him feed me. I tell myself he’s forcing me so I don’t have to feel bad about this. It’s not my own fault—it’s my husband’s.

Husband. Aleksander is officially my husband, and already, he’s shown himself to be someone I cannot trust. He wants me to give in to my baser desires and not be perfect. How can that be good for me?

I don’t stop eating, though. I don’t stop until all the food is gone and in my stomach.

“You did good,” he says. For some reason, his praise feels … good.

Then anger rushes right into me. “I don’t want your praise,” I mutter, standing up and hurrying to the bathroom.

Aleksander follows and grabs my arm before I can reach the toilet. “You will not throw up any of the food you just ate. You will never throw up any of your food again. Is that clear?”

My eyes linger on the toilet, aching for the release throwing up will give me. I can feel the food settling in my stomach, weighing me down, already making me gain weight.

“I’ll never be able to dance again if I’m not thin. You have to let me do this.”

He tightens his grip on my arm. Jolts of electricity are coming from his touch. “No. I will not let you do this. If you dance again, it will not be because you’re making yourself throw up. It will be because you get on a stage and dance. You’re not going to hurt yourself anymore, Viktoriya. Never again.”

I’m hit with a sudden emotion I haven’t felt in a while—pure and utter relief.

Tears form in my eyes, and I can’t stop them from falling, even though I don’t want Aleksander to see me this way. As they spill down my cheeks, I can taste the salt in them.

The weight that has been sitting in my chest has eased somewhat. For once, I feel like I can breathe again.

Aleksander looks me over and nods once before opening his arms. “Come on.”

I could let myself lean into him. Soak up his warm scent. Feel his strong arms around me.

But that would make everything too easy. Aleksander cannot do this to me. If I don’t stop this right now, he’ll always have control over me, and that’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever thought of.

Even more terrifying than being sold to the highest bidder.

My independence—the thing that makes meme—is something I cannot let go of.

Not even when it would be so easy to let myself be comforted by him. To not feel the weight of the world on my shoulders for just a moment.

“No,” I say, wiping my tears away and brushing past him into the bedroom. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Viktoriya.”

“It feels like pity to me. I’m tired. I want to go to bed.” All that food is making me sleepy. This is what it’s like to feel full—it’s an addicting sensation, I’ll give it that.

That’s why I can’t eat like that again. I can’t gain weight. I cannot.

“I want to change into something more comfortable.” I grab my pajamas from my bag. I don’t want to ask this, but I have to. “I need you to unzip my dress for me.”

“You seem capable of making your own decisions in life. You can unzip your dress yourself.”

My jaw drops. “I have a broken rib. It hurts to even stand right now. Unzip my dress.” My tears are completely dried up. I can’t believe I let myself cry in front of him. Bastard.

He stares at me with his intense eyes, like he can see into my soul. “I would love to help you, but you’re so keen on avoiding my help. It’s one or the other, Viktoriya. If you want me to help you be happier, I’ll gladly do it. But if you don’t want me at all, then I can't help you with your dress.”

“What about common courtesy? You know I’m hurt. This is unfair.”

“No. What’s unfair is you hurting yourself. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson. Not everything in this life is about you. I wanted you to eat. You ate. I’m proud of you for that. But I am not your errand boy. I will not help you with your dress.” He gets under the covers and lays down, no longer looking at me.

“So, you’ll only do things for yourself, then?” I ask. “You want to control me, but only when it suits you. You really aren’t worthy of me.”

“Goodnight, Viktoriya.” He turns off the light, plunging me into darkness.

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