Page 13 of Poisoned Vows

There’s no chance of that now. Death is my only way out, and I realize with a fresh wave of shame that I very much want to live—even if it’s not on my own terms.

I shouldn’t care about that. I should want any way out of this that I can find. But apparently, my will to survive is stronger than I knew.

Exhaustion washes over me, and I feel my eyes close. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, huge and comfortable and inviting, but I can’t find the strength to get up. I can’t even move.

The weight of the day crashes over me, and I slump against the door as I fall asleep where I sit.

Nikolai

“What thefuckis wrong with you?”

There’s a fury in my father’s voice that I’ve never heard directed at me before, and I know I should be terrified. For him to break composure means that I’ve crossed a line too far. But I can’t find it in myself to regret it.

Truth be told, I don’t know what came over me. All I know is that I touched Lilliana Narokovna and knew I had to have her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take her home—take heranywhere—without making her mine. Without fucking her in every way available to me—which would be all of them.

I refused to force her. Refused to cross that line.I will not become a man who violates women.

There was only one way out of it that my muddled brain could come up with. So I spoke before I thought.

I said I would marry her.

No, Idemandedthat she be given to me to marry.

My father looks like he wants to murder me.

Hers has already been escorted out, promised a meeting with the Vasilev inner circle to discuss his promotion. Now I’m alone with mine.

No.

I’m alone with thepakhanof the Vasilev Bratva, and he’s furious with me.

“What has come over you?” Egor demands. “You are the fuckingheir! Your marriage is meant to make alliances. To bring another family into the fold and bend them to our will. To bolster our wealth and our power.Thatis the way of things. You know this. Marika knows this. And yet you say that you will marry this..this—”

“Be careful,” I warn, and I don’t recognize the voice speaking, or the words that come out of my mouth. No one would dare speak to the Vasilevpakhanlike this, not even me, and yet I am. “You’re speaking about my fiancée.”

Egor’s mouth tightens. I can see that he’s considering the consequences if he murders me. What the repercussions for the family would be. If he can marry Marika to someone who would be willing to forsake their family name for ours and carry on the bloodline that way. I see all those thoughts and more cross his face, and somehow, I’m not moved.

I’m not afraid of my father. It’s a strange thing to realize, especially at a time like this, when I can see he wants my blood.

“Explain it to me,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Make me understand,son.”

“You offered me a reward.” My voice is every bit as tight and angry—but I’m as angry with myself as he is. I can’t understand what came over me. It was a foolish thing to do. It made no sense.

“Andthisis the reward you seek? A worthless piece of cunt who will bring our family nothing but shame? I offered her to you to fuck, not to wed!”

“Careful,” I warn again, looking him directly in the eyes. “She is my fiancée. The contract was signed in blood. Speak of her that way again, and the rest of your blood will join it.”

I know what kind of threat that is. The consequences it could have. “Will thepakhango back on his word?” I ask, each of mine sharp and cold. “Will you break a binding contract and send her home to her father? Or will I go to the altar in two weeks’ time?”

“You know I can’t allow you to do this without punishment.” Egor’s eyes narrow. “You’ve defied me, son. The first time in your life that you’ve chosen this path. I have to set you back on the correct one.”

There’s something almost like regret in his voice. Like he doesn’t want to hurt his child. I can’t quite believe that’s true. I’d be more likely to believe it if it were Marika. I don’t think he’d take pleasure in beating her.

I think he wants to remind me of my place. Always one rung below him, until he’s six feet under the ground.

“I hope she’s worth it,” is all he says as he walks behind his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a length of coarse, thick rope, knotted evenly all the way down it. “I best not hear a sound from you, son.”

I reach for the buttons of my shirt without needing to be told. It’s been many years since my father punished me. Not since I’ve been a man. But what I’ve done tonight could have earned me far worse.

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