Page 103 of Bound By Hate (Born in Blood)

Glancing around the room, my eyes focus on the familiar wallpaper and closet across the way. The bed I’m in is one I know well now since it’s been my bed for the past few weeks.

I’m in Aleksander’s bedroom.Mybedroom.

It was just a dream, I tell myself. Just a dream.

It was more like a memory from my time at the auction. It still haunts me even though Aleksander tried to help me through it with the cage. I’m not sure I can ever get past something like that.

I wiggle my ankle around underneath the covers. It’s not broken anymore. It’s healed. I can dance on it if I want to.

My hands touch my stomach. But am I skinny enough to dance again? I’m back up to a hundred thirty pounds, which is normal for my taller height. It looks good on me. Makes me look not so bony anymore. But it’s too big for ballet.

A tear slips from my eye as I stare at the ceiling. Aleksander is asleep next to me, looking more peaceful than I’ve ever seen him. I wipe my tear away as I look at him, taking in his handsome features. The one strand of dark hair that falls over his forehead. His long lashes that any woman would kill to have. His lips are parted as he breathes softly.

The urge to kiss him hits me like nothing ever has before.

I have to face the reality—I’m starting to care for Aleksander. My hard shell has eased back a little, and he’s peeking over the side of it. It’s up to me to drop it the rest of the way.

I’m just not sure I can. If my dream was any indication, I’m still clinging to my hope that I’ll dance ballet again. That I’ll perform on a stage once more. And that urge to dance is what makes me want to throw up, but I know Aleksander wouldn’t approve. He wants me healthy. He wants me to be happy with him, even while he’s pushing me to new lengths I’ve never gone to before.

But how can I dance again and be the kind of healthy he wants? My entire life, I pushed my body to dance harder, perform better than my sisters, and make my father proud of me. I had to keep myself skinny to do that. It was the only way.

After my ankle broke, I put on a little weight. That’s what led to me developing an eating disorder. Aleksander is denying me that because he wants me to stop hurting myself.

I don’t know how to balance my developing feelings for Aleksander and my desire to dance again.

I place my hand over my heart, feeling a burst of anxiety. Even though my husband is sleeping right next to me, I’m still alone in my thoughts.

“You look tired this morning,” he tells me over breakfast.

“Jeez. Thanks.”

He smiles as he reads the newspaper on his phone. “I didn’t mean it like that.” His eyes flick up to mine. “You just look like you didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

How is he so perceptive? It’s annoying.

“Just had a bad dream. That’s all.”

He sets his phone down. “Care to tell me about it?”

I hesitate.

“Viktoriya, tell me.”

And just like that, he’s given me permission to do what he says, freeing me from my thoughts. “I was dancing again, but then it turned into the auction. I was back there, and my ankle broke in front of all of those men. It wasn’t a good time, to say the least.” I push my scrambled eggs around. The sight of them is nauseating.

“I thought you were getting over that.”

“It’s not like it’s that simple,” I snap.

He raises his eyebrows. “So, you definitely didn’t get a good night’s sleep.” He sighs and leans on the table. “Viktoriya, you can’t keep letting this get to you. I thought your time in the cage helped you move on.”

“I thought it did, too, but clearly not. I can’t just change overnight, Aleksander. It’s not that simple.”

“I never said it was.”

“Seemed like you were implying it was.”

He smirks as he shakes his head. “There you go again. Placing that wall back up.”

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