Page 8 of Poisoned Vows

A warning pings in the back of my mind. My father prides himself on the brutal son that he’s raised, on how I don’t flinch from violence and blood. I have a sudden, deep fear that he plans to test my limits. To see how far he can test the limits of my depravity.

I steel myself. Surely there are some lines even my father won’t cross. Things that he won’t demand his own son do. I will only have to agree, not prove that I’m willing to violate her.

I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall and the click of heels against the hardwood.She’s outside the door.There’s a tight curl of anticipation deep in my gut that I can’t ignore. I’d fantasized about this girl less than an hour ago, coating the wall of my shower with my cum as I imagined her. Now I’ll find out who she is.

It will be a test of my will. But I’ve never been one to break when challenged.

The door opens. Her father is first, a tall, lanky man with a face that looks as if it would crack easily under my fist, if I so chose. A man who stinks of weakness from the moment I look into his eyes.

I dislike him from the start. But then he steps aside, and I hear the click of heels again.

The door opens a little wider, andshesteps inside.

Lilliana

There are two men in the room when I walk in.

One is clearly thepakhan. He’s older than my father, with iron-grey hair carefully combed back and a clean-shaven jaw that might once have been strong, but has jowls beneath it now, in his older years. His suit is carefully tailored, the lines of it attempting to hide the fat that’s taken over what was once likely muscle, and his face is craggy. His eyes, however, blue and cold, are sharp and alert. He looks at me, and I see a lust that sends my stomach roiling with nausea as his gaze rakes down my body, taking in every inch of it.

The other man is younger. Notyoung, he’s in his mid to late thirties, most likely, but he looks enough like the man next to him that I know this must be thepakhan’s son, without being told. He’s the picture of handsomeness that I expect his father once was. He has thick dark hair, a chiseled, gorgeous face, and those same blue eyes. His body is all hard muscle poured into a bespoke charcoal suit, and everything about him screams power and control. His gaze sweeps over me too, but more dispassionately. As if he’s disinterested in me and what I have to offer.

I find myself wishing I was being given to this man, the one who doesn’t seem to want me. Maybe then I’d be spared the fate waiting for me. But I can see the naked desire in thepakhan’s face, and I wonder if I’ll even make it out of this room without getting fucked. He looks as if he wants to devour me whole, a filthy old man salivating over a girl likely forty years his junior, if not more.

I don’t know how I’ll make it through my deflowering without vomiting. That, if nothing else, will probably be the reason I end up murdered at the end of it.

My father inclines his head respectfully. “Pakhan.Allow me to introduce my daughter, Lilliana Narokovna.”

I know what I’m expected to do. I clasp my hands in front of my skirt, inclining my own head, keeping my eyes fixed on the gleaming wooden floor in front of me. “A pleasure,” I murmur, though it’s anything but.

This is likely to be the worst night of my life, and that’s quite an accomplishment.

“Hmm.” Thepakhangrunts. “And you’ve come here to offer her up to me, Narokov? For a place in my inner circle, eh?”

“Yes,pakhan.” My father’s voice is ingratiating. I find myself wishing thepakhanwould be offended by it and shoot him on the spot. Even if it ended in my own death as well, it would be satisfying to know that all this was for nothing. That my father won’t get what he wants in the end.

“It’s quite the offer.” The older man walks towards me, a crystal-cut glass of vodka held in one hand. His gaze rakes over me again, like a dog salivating over a raw steak. He circles me, and it’s all I can do to stand straight and still under the weight of his appraisal.

The other man does nothing. He says nothing. He stands very still. I keep my eyes on the floor, but I find myself wondering what I would see in his face, if I looked up.

“I’m tempted to agree and take her for myself,” thepakhancontinues, and my heart stutters in my chest.What does that mean?I’m being offered to him. What other possibility is there? There’s denial, but the thought of that makes me as sick as the possibility of acceptance. I won’t survive my return to my father’s house, if thepakhanturns him down.

Thepakhanretreats, returning to his spot in front of the fireplace. I feel my father’s tension, the anger beginning to radiate off of him as he considers the possibility that all his work and investment have been for nothing. I almost like thepakhanmore for making him sweat.Maybe that can be what gets me through this, if he takes me.

“But my son, Nikolai—” thepakhangestures at the dispassionate man next to him. “He has earned a reward, I think. So I will accept your offer, Narokov. On behalf of my son, if he wishes it. But I think he should take a closer look at the girl, first. To be sure that she is up to his standards.” He motions to the man next to him—Nikolai. “Go closer, son. Look at her and tell me what you think.”

There’s no hesitation, but I sense that Nikolai doesn’t want to. I’m not sure why, and it unsettles me. Being given to thepakhanwould be bad enough, but I at least know what he wants. This man is behaving strangely, and that frightens me more. A moment ago, I wished it would be him. Now that it seems as if it might be, I wonder if that was a mistake.

Nikolai stops in front of me. He reaches out, tipping my chin up so that I’m looking at his face, and his touch is surprisingly gentle—restrained, as if he’s making an effort to be so. His fingers hold my face aloft, and my gaze meets his.

His eyes are stunning up close. Blue-grey, I realize, not entirely blue, and now stormy with an emotion that I can’t read. His face is even more handsome than I noticed at first, the picture of stony masculinity, and I have a sudden urge to reach up and run my fingers over his sharp jaw.

What is wrong with me?I stifle it immediately, clenching my fist at my side, and immediately regret the motion. I should have known it would have consequences.

“She looks as if she has a little fire in her,” thepakhanrumbles, a pleased note in his voice, as if he’s enjoying the show. “I imagine you might enjoy that. Isn’t that right, son?”

“Of course.” Nikolai’s voice is smooth and smoky, wrapping around me like velvet. Something tightens deep in my belly, something that I don’t understand. It coils tighter when he rubs his thumb over the side of my jaw, up to my full lower lip, pressing against it as something in those stormy eyes heats up.

His hand drops to his side. “I will accept.” His voice is flat and emotionless, and thepakhannarrows his eyes.

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