Page 16 of XV (Fifteen) (War of Roses 1)

I cower. Everything I would have spilled easily to Vanya sticks in my throat.

Mischa lets nearly a minute go by before he entertains the fact that I might have disobeyed him. It amuses him rather than angers. His lips quirk around the edges, his eyelids lowering. With one knee, he nudges my right leg, making the space between both of them wider. A lazy shift of his weight allows him to dominate that vacant space. But he’s too big. My inner thighs chafe against the coarse fabric of his pants. The air catches in my chest.

Vanya’s warning becomes a mocking taunt:He won’t fuck you, but he’ll still hit you.He sounded sincere, but I know men. I learned long ago how to recognize the subtle ways their bodies tense. How their breathing changes when logic ends and lust begins.

But it’s not my body that excites him.

It’s the silence. The longer it extends between us, the bigger he seems, towering above. Defiance in general is unacceptable to most men like him. But from a woman?

He laughs, almost to himself: an unstable, guttural sound. “Did you not hear me, Little One?” Again, his fingers come to dance the length of my hip, but this time, they don’t inspect the injuries there. They fan out, pressing firmly. Feeling.“He’s treated you roughly. I can tell.”

His hand is big enough to circle my entire thigh. Sensing the danger enclosed in his palm, I flinch, and in retaliation, the tips of his nails rake a path to my knee.

“But trust me: I can be worse. Tell me your name.”

My lips flutter, but nothing comes out. Inhaling, I try again. Again. My tongue frantically moistens my lips as my chest heaves, seeking air.My name is…

Before I can form the words, his knee strikes the mattress near my hip, rattling the bed frame. The way he’s positioned brings his thigh overtop mine, crushing me down. Heat sears, mingling with the sweat slicking my skin. It’s too hot. Can’t breathe…

“Tell me your name, Little One.” He hasn’t fully mounted me yet, remaining crouched instead. “Tell me what you know of Robert’s plans and this will end for you. I swear it.” He means it—as much as a man like him can mean anything. This is his idea of mercy: a painless death. “But if you don’t…”

A gasp rips from my chest as he adjusts his knee, lifting it from the bed only to reposition it directly between my legs. He slams it forward, nudging my mound.

“I will make you wish I’donlykilled you.”

My vision swims as my lips struggle to part. My name is rightthere, wavering on the tip of my tongue. I try as hard as I can to spit it out. Ellen… Ellen…

But the only sound to reach my ears is the ominous creaking of the bed frame. The hand on my thigh becomes a razor, nails sinking deep. Scouring. Using that grip for leverage, he brings his weight forward, mounting me fully, lowering his chest against mine. My nipples scrape the cotton of his shirt while his breath assaults my cheek, scorching a trail down to my throat. He’s too close. Too heavy. Too…raw.

There’s no disguising the muscle straining beneath his clothing. Poor Vanya doesn’t know his master as well as he thinks.

He’s hard. Not hard enough to be of much use—at least not yet—but hard enough to feel against my thigh, too real for comfort. My thoughts scatter. Instinct kicks in. With Robert, there is only one way to survive his assaults: lie there motionless. Never react. Let him finish quickly. Lick my wounds in peace.

My body is already complying with the first step of that routine. I go limp, conforming beneath the stranger’s body. My eyes focus somewhere beyond his head. I don’t think. I don’t feel. I just endure…

“Look at me.”

An unexpected sensation disrupts my mental clarity.Fire. Unfamiliar heat trickles between my legs: his hand. Each knuckle traces the outlines of my mound. Once. Twice. I tense, anticipating brutality: for him to jam them in at once. Stretch me open. Prove his point.

Anything but another slow, teasing swipe that tugs on my spine like a string. Too harsh. Too sharp. Too soft.

“Look at me, Little One.” He snarls the command into my ear, bringing his mouth so close that his teeth clip my earlobe.

The pain won’t let me escape. It buzzes through my nerves like a fly until I have no choice. My vision refocuses, bringing his features into stark relief.

“You think I don’t know?” he wonders coldly. “You think I can’t see the abuse on you? You don’t fear pain.” He pinches my hip as if to prove it, rousing a deep, sharp ache that makes me shiver. “But there are some things worse than pain, Little One. Betrayals that only your body can commit against you. I won’t just hurt you. I can make youenjoywhat I do to you.”

It’s an almost cartoonish threat, but he never laughs. There’s a sudden darkness to his features that wasn’t there before. A harsh, knowing look that makes a part of me clench in despair. God, it’s familiar. Understanding? The same expression worn by the boy who taught me how to endure agony in silence all those years ago.

Heknows. What I’ve been through—or at least what he could discern from my scars. Even worse, he seems to think he can use that trauma against me. It’s as laughable a boast as it is terrifying.

Breathe, Ellen.I make myself limp again, building an invisible wall between my body and my thoughts. I succeed. I feel nothing. Hear nothing. Just silence and…

Wet.Sliding along my breast, slicking the nipple. His thumb. While I watch, he brings the digit to his tongue and licks along the edge, wetting it further. Then he lowers it to my nipple again, letting his saliva merge with sweat. Disgust traps the air in my lungs, suffocating me during the long, deliberate journey he travels down the curve of my rib cage.

“W-what are you doing?”No!My own mental plea can’t keep the words from leaving my throat. It’s already too late.

He heard me, letting his fingers still against my torso. “So youcanspeak,” he murmurs. “What a shame. I was beginning to suspect that your master had the perfect woman. Beautifulandquiet as a fucking mouse.”

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