Page 63 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“Talk?” He scoffs. “I’ll talk. I’ll talk about the fact that Anatoli is toying with me. Attacking my business like one would spank a naughty child. The bastard thinks he cansummonme—” He breaks off, and the tension coiled within his body reveals just how much that simple command is affecting him. “Like I’m still a boy beneath his boot. Should I talk about that? Or I can talk about the fact that Milton has turned his back on me. And I can talk about Vadim, always having the last fucking laugh—”
“Tell me about him.” I take another step, narrowly avoiding a streak of blood. God, the wound looks even worse the closer I come. Carefully, I strip my robe and wad the fabric in my fist.
“Vadim?” He laughs again more darkly, his eyes still fixated on a world I can’t see. “I was four, I believe, when we first met. My mother must have upset my father more than usual. That day he left and reappeared with another child.Hischild, nearly my age. ‘You think that since you have my heir, you are untouchable?’ he asked her. ‘Well, I have plenty of spare bastards to take my pick from.’ He kept Vadim around after that, parading him before us periodically just to prove his point.”
“That’s awful…” Horror constricts my throat as I finally come close enough to him to risk brushing my fingers along his injured arm. He stiffens, unmoving. Cautiously, I peel back the sleeve of his shirt and wrap my robe around the worst of the wound.
“He should have looked smug then, Dima,” Maxim continues, oblivious to the pain. “He wore rags, dragged into a home worth more than his whore of a mother could ever make on her back. In that moment, he had a taste of the mantle of being the heir and what it meant. He should have fucking smirked…” He sways, and I brace my hand over his chest, but my strength is no match for his bulk.
“Come with me.” I glance over my shoulder and spot a nearby chaise. Gingerly I lead him toward it, still coaxing him, “What happened next?”
“I killed our father,” he croaks, but rather than sit, he goes rigid, scowling beyond this room. Beyond me. “His mother died of some disease. Together, we were sent to Anatoli.”
Uttering that one name drains the humanity from him. A darkness falls over his expression, and a stranger appears in his place—someone so cold and emotionless he could be formed from stone.
“I knew what awaited us the second we entered those fucking walls.Hell—” He balls his hands into fists, and my heart skips. An instinctive need to back away takes hold, but the second I withdraw, he staggers away from me, still speaking. “I knew. Dima… He didn’t. That first night, Anatoli broke my ribs in retaliation for what I did to his son—” He flattens his palm against his chest in remembrance of that pain. “I didn’t cry. But Dima? The old man didn’t lay a fucking finger on him, and he wailed anyway. He never had what it took—and I couldn’t forgive him for that. For weakness…”
He takes another step, teetering dangerously to one side. It’s as if he’s drunk off the rage, blinded to his own senses.
Renewed concern for him outweighs any fear for myself. I approach him again, keeping my voice as soft as I can. “Maxim…”
He recoils, as if his first instinct is to resist my touch. A heartbeat later, his hand captures mine, pinning it to his chest. When I lead him toward the leather chaise, he collapses onto the edge of it. His arm is still bleeding, and I race to apply more pressure, all while still stroking him. Speaking to him.
Keeping him here.
“Hewas weak,” he tells me. “I had Anatoli’s favor. I was his preferred heir. Everyone knew it. But Dima… He called the old bastard evil to his face once, can you fucking believe it?”
He laughs, partly amused, partly incredulous.
“I don’t know why they didn’t kill him then and there. Perhaps it was more fun to toy with him. He sniveled when they beat him. Cried when they whipped him. Cut him. Starved him. Did worse. But he never fought for his place. Not really. And when he looked at me, it wasn’t in fear. He knew what failure meant. And yet, Vadim? He always looked at me with…fuckingpity.” His body vibrates with disgust at that word, mirroring his anger whenever he seems to sense it in me. “Can you believe that? As though I was the weak one. When I survived. I won. I took what I was owed and never looked back. I need no one’s pity.”
“Tell me what happened after.”
“Anatoli grew bored,” he adds, deflating. “He declared that only one of us would become the true heir, if we were willing to fight for it. The loser would go to Sevastyn…” He inhales sharply, and I press my hand to his cheek before that unsettling shadow can consume him again. With gentle pressure, I make him look at me.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “You’re with me. You’re not there.” He blinks, his expression blank, but I maintain the contact anyway. “Talk to me.”
“He should have won.” His gaze refocuses, fixating on mine. Hints of him return, peeking from behind the dark irises. The more I stroke him, the more of him I see. A man so confused the frustration haunts him. Poisons him.
It’s tormenting him.
“He should have.” Voice rasping, he insists, “The bastard should have fucking won. He wasn’t stronger, but he was faster. Smarter. He could handle a blade better than anyone. He should have won.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. All I can do is stroke his jaw and staunch the bleeding from his arm, utilizing patience I never knew I had.
Gradually, his nostrils flare, and his expression regains some semblance of definition.
“There it is,” he accuses in a surprisingly hollow tone. “Yourpity. Worse than his in so many ways…”
“No.” I shake my head and lean forward, resting my forehead against his chest. “It’s not pity. It’s never pity. Never…”
He doesn’t argue. He’s not here fully yet, but his breathing eases, and when I attempt to stand, he tightens his grip as if to pull me back.
“You’re covered in blood.” I take his hand and tug him to his feet. “Come with me.”
Despite everything, I’m shocked when he lets me take him into the bathroom. He sits in the tub, watching skeptically as I gather supplies. I strip him slowly and then wash him inch by inch. When I finally reach his head, he pulls me in, kissing me deeply. The rest of my clothing comes off easily beneath his touch, but he doesn’t settle me over his cock.
His hands find my waist instead, his chest meeting mine. He sinks his fingers reverently into my hair while pressing his lips to my collar, right above my breast. “You… Life was never a mystery to me. I knew what I wanted. Money. Power. Control. I took all of it. But never could I imagine you... I won’t lose you. But…”
