Page 25 of Viparious

I’m too transparent and he wraps his arm around my middle, grinding into my ass without giving me what I want.Flattening his palm on my stomach, he slowly massages down until he cups between my thighs and nips my neck with his teeth. His deep voice rumbles through his chest into my back and he flexes his bicep so I can feel it against my arm.

“There are no marks on your body for anyone to imagine what I do to you, and you are breathtaking, so go ahead.”

Rather than focus on the fact he has complimented me for once, I let lust guide me.

“You don’t care if other people see me naked and picture their own marks?”

His arm tightens around me, and he lifts me off my feet to walk to the large mirror opposite the window. His hand doesn’t move from between my thighs, and the pressure of my body weight being held at that one point is relief. But the image staring back at me is pure torture. The sharp suit and devilish smirk against my plain everything. I don’t even have lingerie on, just a nude, boring bra and matching panties, so they don’t show through whatever dress I eventually pick.

Is this how people see us? How Vlad sees me? The plain, the boring, the unforgettable. It makes sense, and I suddenly can’t meet my own reflection.

He notices the change. All deviant creatures are able to sniff out a person’s weakness so it shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s how they drag them to hell after all. He sets me on my feet and his hand moves in my periphery to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at myself.

“Never lower your head. You’re a Vartanova, and you will make everyone else bow.”

I’m being petulant and continue begging him as I mumble, “Hard to do that when I don’t exist.”

His fingers flex on my chin and his tone hardens as he straightens to stand as a wall at my back.

“You exist and take up more space than you should. Don’t give anyone power over you.”

I’m usually good at ignoring my childhood and refusing to carry that resentment with me. I can feel it more closely today than any other day. It’s probably because it’s my mother’s birthday. She never failed to say the same thing when I’d give her a gift.

Oh, I forgot you were here.

She’d act shocked every year until I wasn’t allowed to live with them anymore. I sink back into Vlad’s chest, and he just holds me, waiting for the moment to pass.

His hand loosens around my jaw when I straighten my spine, and my chin doesn’t gravitate to my chest. But he doesn’t remove his touch from me entirely. He ghosts the tip of his middle finger below my collarbone and picks up my hand bearing his mark. The rings don’t fully hide the insignia, and he toys with them as he stares at me through the mirror, his eyes following the pattern below my collarbone.

“Did this hurt, meelaya?”

I have to look at my chest, expecting there to be some wound I’m unaware of, but he squeezes my ring finger, indicating what he’s talking about.

The brand didn’t hurt when he applied it, the healing was a bitch, and it was itchy. But I can’t tell him that, it’s a weakness in his eyes. I stand taller and project strength.

“No.”

He hums and dips his head to kiss up my neck, causing my lids to droop. His voice drops to a deep whisper that floats right into my ear.

“You can do whatever you want, moya koroleva. Dress however you want to, if anyone touches you, they have a death wish, and I’m more than equipped to oblige.”

He’s probably hoping for a reasonable excuse to murder. My voice sounds fake to my own ears, with desire coating my vocal cords as I push out.

“So romantic when you talk murder to me.”

Air brushes my hypersensitive skin as he moves back down my neck to my shoulder.

“You don’t want roses and candles. You want blood and ash, the dirt and violence, because you know that’s the only way you’d become a true equal. Not by being the same as me, but because you can match me in the opposite.”

I need to get dressed but I can’t physically pull away and try to force him to do it for me as I ignore the feelings he stirs inside of me.

“What about if they masturbate to the memory of me?”

He hates that word, and I can’t hide my laugh as he looks at me through the mirror with disgust written on his features.

“Your dirty talk is horrible, meelaya, we’ll practice tonight.”

Feigning shock, I hug his arms around me. He straightens and rests his chin on my crown.

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