Lilliana’s gaze flicks to the deer as well, but I know she’s thinking something very different. She’s seeing herself there in that snow, bleeding out.
I step closer to her, the rifle nudging into her spine. “If you were anyone else and you pulled a gun on me,” I tell her in a quiet, dangerous tone, “you’d be doing exactly what you’re thinking of right now. You’d be bleeding out in that snow, and nothing would be able to help you. Do you understand me? You’re only alive because you’re my wife.”
“Is that going tokeepme alive?” she whispers, and I hear real fear in her voice for the first time. I hate it and love it at the same time—I never wanted to make her afraid of me, but something about the fear thrills me, too.
She underestimated me. She underestimated the kind of man I can be. And it might be time for her to learn.
I nudge her toward the trail with the gun in her back. “We’re going back to the cabin. And then we’re going to talk.”
I don’t know iftalkingis going to be a part of what happens for long. I’m going to punish her. It’s what has to happen, whatneedsto happen—what should have happened when she started this arrangement off with a sharp tongue and biting words.
I’d tried to be gentle with her. Tried to be softer. I tried to make her understand that I was helping her. But it ended with a gun pointed at my chest.
So now, things are going to change.
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” she hisses, with surprising acrimony for a woman with a gun at her back. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me want to stay here with you, Nikolai. Especially now that I know you’reexactlythe type of man you all make yourselves out to be. Brutal and rough and—”
I push the gun into her back again, just to remind her of her situation as we walk. “I’m not going to be convincing you to stay here with me, Lilliana. There is no world in which youdon’tstay here with me. And as far as what type of man I am—youpulled a gun onme. I’m reacting to that. And like I said—if you weren’t my wife, it would have gone much differently.”
She doesn’t have an answer for that. In fact, she doesn’t say a word until we’re back at the cabin, at which point she digs in her heels at the prospect of going inside.
“Nikolai—”
“Go in the cabin, Lilliana. You’re going to walk inside, and then you’re going to go up the stairs, and we’re going to go all the way to the bedroom. Then we’lltalk.”
“I don’t like the way you’re saying that.”
“I don’t care.” I nudge the gun into her back again. “Go.”
For a change, she does as she’s told. I can see her hands trembling, and she clenches them into fists as she walks, slowly, through the house and up the stairs, all the way into the bedroom that I think of, unfortunately, asours.
The moment she steps inside, very slowly, I set the gun down outside of the room. And then I close the door and lock it.
“Now. No weapons. Nothing for you to try to grab and threaten me with, and nothing for you to be afraid I’m going to use on you.”
“You could hurt me plenty without a gun.” Her gaze flicks over me, and I let out a sigh.
“Lilliana, I’m not going to hit you. Or punch you, or whatever you’re thinking. I’ve never hit a woman. But youhaveto understand something.”
“What?” She bites out the words, but it’s beginning to lose some of its venom.
“There is no way out of this,krolik.” I look at her from across the space between us, hoping she will somehow relent and understand. I’ll have to punish her regardless—shehasto learn, or she will misstep at some point in front of someone important, in front of myfather, even, and it will all be so much worse. But I could go easier on her, if she would give in and understand. “You are my wife, and you will continue to be so. You will behave in all the ways a wife should. You will learn to please me when I say and curb your tongue when necessary, and you willnotthreaten me.” I shake my head, the frustration rising up again. “Your father taught you better than this, Lilliana. I know he must have, for what he had planned for you.”
“Don’t talk to me about my father,” she hisses. “You have no idea what he did or didn’t teach me. But whatIknow is that men like you are arrogant, brutal, self-involved fucks who get off on controlling others. On hurting others. So just fucking get it over with. Hit me, or force me down on my knees, or shoot me, I don’t care. I want out. But you’re not going to let me go. So how can you blame me for trying?”
The last words, especially, strike something within me. It’s almost enough to make me change my intentions. I can feel the desperation in her voice, the fear, and I have a strange urge to reach for her and soothe her instead, to gather her in my arms and tell her that I could be good to her, if she would give this a chance. That it doesn’t have to be so acrimonious. That we could enjoy each other until the lust burned out, and then she would be taken care of.
You’ve tried being gentle with her. You’ve tried patience, as much as you’re able. And this is where it led.
“Whether or not I can blame you doesn’t matter, Lilliana. You are my wife. You have defied me again and again, and I’ve been too lenient. I’ve put us both at risk by making you believe that it was acceptable. That you could get away with it. That changes now.”
I nod at her. “Strip. One piece of clothing at a time.”
She stares at me. “You have got to be fucking kidding.”
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “I had a gun on you two minutes ago,krolik. You had one on me before that. I think we’re past this song and dance about whether or not I can tell you to take your clothes off. Strip, Lilliana, or I will take them off for you, and it willnotbe to your liking.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, and I wish to god I could be surprised when she spits out: “No.”