Page 52 of Crown of Hate

When I catch up to him, Mikhail has his back to me, facing the wall, and I’m treated to an eyeful of his sculpted ass. My hands itch to reach out and touch it, to feel the firm muscle beneath my palms. A vivid image flashes through my mind: my fingers digging into that flesh as he fucks me into oblivion.

Jesus Christ.

What kind of twisted whore am I becoming? Since when do I drool over a man’s ass?

I try to shake off the sudden warmth spreading through me, forcing my mind back to the reality of the situation.Come on, focus, Alya. “Mikhail, seriously, what happened out there? You're covered in blood,” I manage, but my voice wavers slightly. It’s hard to stay focused when his naked body is such a goddamndistraction. It’s not just the perfectly sculpted muscles, either. It’s the mosaic of dark tattoos. They snake over his skin like pure, gothic art.

A body chiseled by God… and painted by the devil.

And then he laughs. A low, seductive sound that sends a shiver crawling down my spine. Without turning around, he replies nonchalantly, “Just a little run-in with some old acquaintances. Nothing for you to worry about,malyshka.”

I grip my nightgown, a mixture of conflicting emotions warring inside me. Concern, fascination, and a sick kind of excitement I don’t want to examine too closely. Mikhail has always been enigmatic and unpredictable, but this is something else entirely.

Something I should hate, something that should repulse me, yet I can’t bring myself to care. Instead, a traitorous voice whispers in my mind: it doesn’t matter if he kills a thousand people, as long as he’s safe.

A sigh escapes my chest. What is wrong with me?

As the shower’s spray hits Mikhail’s skin, the blood swirls down the drain in hypnotic spirals, leaving no traces behind of whatever crime he committed. It’s unsettling how easily he sheds this violence, like a snake shedding his skin.

When he finally turns around to face me, his eyes are dark and smoldering with something unreadable. “You should go back to your book,” he says with a deep, husky voice.

My lower lip drops, instinctively disappointed, before it comes snapping back up when Mikhail continues, “… Or you can join me… if you want...”

I swallow back a lump in my throat. Goddammit, I do. I want to so badly it scares me. But I don’t say that. Instead, I force myself back and say, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

But I should have known better than to think I had a choice.

I’ve barely turned away before I hear him step out of the shower. A split-second later, his big, rough hand wraps around my wrist and hauls me to him. Our bodies collide—his hard, slick frame meeting the softness of mine, creating an intense, electrifying contrast.

My breath catches in my throat. “What are you doing?” I whisper, though there’s no one else around to hear us.

He twists me around to face him.

“I missed you today, malyshka,” he murmurs, caressing my cheeks gently, the water dripping from his hand onto my nightgown. “No matter what was happening, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About coming home and holding you, taking you.Fuckingyou.”

My knees go weak as he slips off the straps of my nightgown. They drip down my arms. Mikhail nods, and if by magic, the rest of the material falls with them, pooling around my feet.

“Then do it,” I whisper, my voice barely breaking through the hiss of the shower.

Taking my wrist, he leads me under the water, then places me against the misty wall. His eyes hold a mixture of raw desire and something more savage, like a predator eyeing its next meal.

The look cuts right through my sanity, tapping into something feral.

It’s a reaction that must be written all over my face, because he leans in close, his hot breath mixing in with the steam to swirl around my ear.

“Did you miss me?” he teases. “Did you sit around thinking of all the ways I’d fuck you when I got home. Tell me the truth, malyshka. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

With a savage ease, he flips me around so that my cheek is pressed against the warm wall and my ass is pressed out into his cock. Then, one hand is around my throat and the other is between my legs.

“I was too busy reading to think about you,” I lie, pressing myself back into him. His already rock hard, his warm girth setting fire to my skin.

“Lie,” he proclaims, his pointer finger pressing down on my clit. The act causes my entire body to spasm, but I don’t move an inch, because Mikhail presses himself into me even harder, forcing me in place. His cock pushing between my cheeks, placing an irresistible, terrifying pressure on a hole I never even thought of using.

“Is this what you daydreamed of?” he asks, thrusting into me. “Or are you too innocent for that?”

His finger starts to lead my clit in circles, I gasp, but the air is so humid that there isn’t anything to breathe in.

“Too innocent,” I quietly rasp, slowly suffocating, slowly losing my mind.

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