Page 37 of Poisoned Vows

He smirks at me. “Why not? Would you rather answer it in your—state?” He gestures at me, knowing full well what’s under the sheet, and I glare at him.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He strides across the room, glancing back once more with a wicked expression on his face. “Who knows? Maybe the woman outside will see this, and want it more than my pretty new wife saysshedoes.”

He gestures at his erection and my face flames. I feel an instant, white-hot burst of jealousy at the thought of another woman seeing, touching, getting fucked by Nikolai, and it makes me feel insane, because I don’twanthim. I should be thrilled at the idea of any other woman taking him off my hands. It would mean the end of his attention being focused on me.

But the thought of him fucking someone else the way he was with me last night—

I push the image out of my head, because I suddenly feel hot, irrational tears burning at the back of my eyes, and I hate myself for it. I hate all of it.

He opens the door, and the server outside—a man, I realize—wheels it into the room. The man pauses briefly, his gaze flicking towards the bed, and I’m suddenly very aware of my bare shoulders above the sheet, and how obviously naked I am beneath it. I wonder if the man has any idea that I’m covered in cum.

The server looks at me a second too long, and IseeNikolai’s face tighten with rage.

“Get the fuck out!” he snarls, taking a step toward the man, and I’ve never seen someone move so fast in my life.

The door shuts behind him, and I glare at Nikolai.

“You didn’t even tip him.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t strangle him, the way he was looking at you.”

“Stop acting like you give a shit.” I wrap the sheet more tightly around myself. “You don’t care about me.”

“I care about someone looking at what’s mine.” His gaze slides over me, and I can see a hunger that has nothing to do with the food on the cart next to him.

I open my mouth, but no retort comes out. I don’t know why that affects me, the way he says it when he calls mehis. I don’t want to be his. I want to be free. But something about it tightens my belly and makes me flush hot every time.

“I’ll strip the sheets after we eat and dress,” Nikolai says, picking up a plate. “They’ll have to be delivered to my father.”

“Do theyhaveto be?” My voice is smaller than I’d like as I say it, and Nikolai looks up, his expression startled. It’s one of the few times I think I’ve ever caught him off guard.

My cheeks are flaming hot at the idea of the blood-stained, cum-covered sheets being displayed in front of thepakhan, for him to see the evidence that his son fucked me. It’s not as if he doesn’t know anyway—there was a goddamnweddingyesterday—but something about the idea of Nikolai’s father casually looking at the leftover evidence makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“It’s tradition,” he says shortly.

“Is it tradition for you to marry the daughter of some no-name Bratva soldier?” I spit out. I know there’s no real point in fighting this—it’s going to happen regardless, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“You don’t have to argue over every little thing.” He sets the plate down, walking towards the bed. I can still see the shape of his cock in his boxers, still half-hard. “There’s no choice about it, Lilliana. Put it out of your head.”

I can feel the heat in my cheeks intensifying, hot tears burning at the backs of my eyes. I’m not entirely sure why this particular thing is affecting me so much, but Ihateit. I hate the thought of Nikolai’s father seeing the bloody sheets. It feels like parading my shame in front of him, my imprisonment, like I’ve been reduced to nothing but a stain on a wedding bed.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Nikolai says, almost gently, as if he can hear my thoughts. “You don’t even have to be there. It’s nothing,krolik.”

“I wish you’d just fucked me and let me go.” I can hear tears threatening in my voice, and I hate that too. I’ve tried so hard to fight him, to keep from showing any weakness, but I feel so tired after last night. It’s sinking in, all over again, that this is permanent. The thin gold band on my left hand might as well be steel manacles, for how tightly it keeps me locked away.

“I would never have been satisfied with only once.”

There’s a deep, rough lilt to his voice as he says it that I’m beginning to recognize as desire. Something tightens deep inside of me when I hear it, a response that I can’t help, but I set my teeth against it, still holding the sheet tightly to my chest.

I see his cock jerk inside of his boxers, pushing against the fabric, and I shake my head when I see him push them down. “I can’t,” I whisper, knowing how very close I am to begging—not the way he wants me to, but begging nonetheless, and I don’t want to beg him foranything. “I’m too sore. I can’t take it again.”

His cock looks even bigger now, in the daylight of the room, close enough to touch. I can see the throbbing veins, the thick girth of it nearly touching his abs, and I feel a jolt of pain at the idea of him pushing it inside of me again. I can’t do it.

“That’s fine,” he says, moving to get onto the bed, and I flinch away.

“I really can’t.” I swallow hard. “I’m not playing hard to get, Nikolai; I can’t—”

“I know.” He pushes me back onto the pillows with one hand on my chest, his fingers curling around the sheet and pulling it away from me, despite my attempts to grasp it back. “I’ll soothe you instead.”

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