Page 29 of Poisoned Vows

I’m not spared from any of the pageantry of the reception. A huge multi-tiered cake is wheeled out as the band plays a sweet-sounding song, one I don’t recognize. Nikolai stands next to me with his hand over mine as we slide a knife through layers of chocolate and fondant.

“Open your mouth, littlekrolik,” he murmurs, fingers closing nimbly around a small chunk of cake, and I wrinkle my nose at him. I hate that nickname already.Rabbit. I hate even more in Russian than I do in English.

“Wiggle your nose, little bunny, but it won’t do you any good.” He lifts the cake to my mouth, his blue-grey eyes fixed on mine, and I open my lips before I can stop myself. I want to fight him, but nothing good will come of it. If anything, it will only make what’s going to come later tonight so much worse.

The cake bursts over my tongue, sugary and too sweet, and I reach for my own bit of cake, to keep his fingers from lingering against my lips if nothing else. I felt the pressure of his finger against my lower lip, the intimate way it stayed there a moment too long, and I wanted him to stop touching me.

Even if it meant touching him instead.

I lift the cake to his lips, and the moment his eyes lock with mine, I know he’s going to make it uncomfortable for me—if only because he gets some sick pleasure out of it. I push the sugary sweetness into his mouth and feel his tongue brush against my fingertips, his lips closing around them, and I want to spit in his face. Not only because of the wicked glint in his eyes, but because of the shiver that runs down my spine as I feel the warmth of his tongue flicking against my fingers.

I don’t want to desire him. I don’t want him to make me feel anything but disgust, and every time I do, I hate him all the more.

I pull my hand away as quickly as I can, reaching for a napkin to wipe away both the stickiness of the cake and the warmth of his mouth. I can see that satisfied smile on his face again, but when I glance back up at him, I see something else too.

Something that makes me quiver with fearful anticipation.

There’s a hunger in his eyes that’s terrifying—and, I tell myself,unwanted.

“You’re going to be as sweet as that cake,krolik,” he murmurs, his voice a low, sensual purr as his arm goes around my waist and he pulls me into him.

This time, when he kisses me, he lingers. His lips press against mine, in front of everyone, and I hear a smattering of approval through the room, and why not? Nikolai is a husband kissing his new bride in front of our wedding cake. He’s putting on the show that they all expect.

I want to slap him, when he pulls away. My hand forms into a fist at my side, resisting the urge, and he must see it, because his hand catches mine, raising it to his lips as he kisses the back of my whitening knuckles.

“Careful there, pretty rabbit,” he murmurs. “I won’t have you doing anything untoward in front of all of our guests. Imagine what could happen to your father, if you did.”

“You’re assuming I care about what happens to him,” I hiss, and Nikolai’s eyes widen the smallest bit.

“But you care about what happens to yourself, I’m sure.” He pulls me in as the music swells, leading me toward the dance floor for our first dance. “So you can keep that in mind, instead.”

Do I?I wonder, as Nikolai leads me out onto the floor in front of everyone, his hand on my waist and arm.What’s the worst that he could do? Kill me?My sense of self-preservation has kept me alive this long, but that was when I thought I had a life to live after this, that I’d earn my freedom on my back in thepakhan’sbed.

And yet, I can’t quite summon the courage necessary to find out if he’d take it that far.

Maybe there’s a way out,I think to myself as he spins me, pulling me back in a moment later, his hand warm on the small of my back.He can’t keep me locked up forever. Maybe I can escape.

I cling to that as we dance and try to use it to distract myself from how it feels to be so close to Nikolai. I want to think about the possibility of escape, not the sharp, spicy scent of his cologne in my nostrils, or the broad, muscled shape of him in the finely tailored suit, or how it feels to have him so close to me. His hand is pressed possessively to the small of my back, fingers tracing the silk along my spine, and Ihatehow it makes me feel. I do.

I really do.

He spins me again, pulling me back into him with a sharp jerk of his wrist, his arm sliding around my waist. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, and I stiffen to keep him from feeling the shiver that goes down my spine.

“Not much longer, little rabbit. I can feel you quivering. We’ll be leaving before you know it.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.This is bad enough, being forced to put on a smile and pretend as if his hands on me don’t make my skin crawl, as if I don’t want to scream in front of everyone gathered here that this is against my will—as if anyone would care. But what comes next—

That will be worse.

It comes too soon. Before I know it, there’s a line to bid us farewell as Nikolai leads me to the door, out of the restaurant, to another waiting car. This time, when his hand lands on my thigh, it’s more possessive than before. Anticipatory. There’s hunger in his touch, and I see his blue-grey eyes shining in the darkness as he gives the driver directions.

I’m well and truly trapped.

Lilliana

The room he takes me to is as beautiful as everything else has been, a gorgeous honeymoon suite. He lets me go inside first, always pretending to be the gentleman, and then closes the door behind us.

There are two double doors leading out to a balcony, and I walk over to them, looking out at the city beyond. I can hear Nikolai behind me, the rustling as he slips off his jacket and loosens his tie, the clink of ice in a glass as he gets himself a drink.

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