Their Wife

My temple tingled at the sensation of cold lips, carrying a faint aroma of patchouli, rosewood, and smoke. "Rest, Schmetterling. We're almost there," spoke a deep and haunting voice that seemed dangerously familiar. Despite my attempts, my heavy eyelids and body refused to respond. I struggled to speak, yet my mouth remained paralyzed.

Gentle and strong hands guided me to rest upon a smooth and warm surface. My head was positioned on something elevated, feeling the presence of firm muscles beneath me - someone's lap. My heart rate quickened, and amidst my slow and confused thoughts, I realized this was not a normal situation. A vague memory reminded me of additional details—darkness, a needle, and return of my nightmare.

My body immediately sensed the threat, and my mind not functioning properly. My heart rate intensified as adrenaline surfaced in my veins. With great difficulty, I blinked and opened my heavy lids. Even though my vision was blurry, I couldn’t miss the dark features hovering over me. Pair of midnight-dark eyes matched the darkness surrounding me. This…this couldn’t be. I could recognise his cruelly handsome face anywhere, how could I not, my nightmare was embracing me in his arms.

“Close your eyes, Schmetterling. Don’t fight it.” Kilian Schmidt murmured. His deep voice held both threat and promise as he gently cocooned my head in his neck. His fingers ran through my hair gently, massaging away the throbbing pain in my skull. “I told you, you can not escape me. You can not escape ‘us’.”

I wanted to let out a cry but it seemed more difficult. The edges of his calloused hands ran through my long strands as his palm rested under my chin. I shuddered at his touch. His hands. Hands which have killed many today. For the whole two years, I dreaded this moment, and finally, It was here. They were here. For me.

To claim me.

Another equally dangerously erotic voice entered my ears. It sounded distant.

“Don’t cry,” my other tormentor said, brushing away the little hope I held onto for two whole years. “There’s no escape now. You know that.”

Yes, I did. Nothing and no one could help me now.

I gradually arose from the deep slumber, my senses were instantly assaulted by the uncomfortable sensation of a relentless pounding within my skull, accompanied by an unsettling queasiness in the depths of my stomach. The room around me seemed engulfed in a cloak of darkness, shrouding every object and corner beyond my limited field of vision.

In that disorienting moment, confusion cast its shadow upon my consciousness, preventing any recollection of the events that had recently transpired.

As my groggy mind grappled with the disorientation, a flicker of worry ignited within me, igniting a fear I may have surrendered once again to unconsciousness without any conscious understanding of my actions. My eyes widened involuntarily, as if attempting to compensate for the obscured environment that held me prisoner. Grasping at fleeting fragments of fragmented memory, I strained to piece together the puzzle of my current predicament.

Killian.

I was so terrified that I just laid there. Shaking. My scared eyes looked around finding a modern version of the royal bedroom. The mattresses were soft under me with a comfortable comforter covering my body. But I couldn’t feel any clothes on my body, just the softness of cotton sheets against my alert skin. I couldn’t feel any pain, did that mean they didn’t violate me?

Yet.

Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I sit up slowly, holding the sheets against my chest. My heart rate picked up when I saw a wide large mirror standing tall in front of the bed. I could view myself, hairs dishevelled, eyes wide as deer caught in red light, and an ugly large bruise on the left side of my neck where Ralph plunged the needle. Swinging my feet on the floor, I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. My gaze fell on the water bottle on the nightstand. But I couldn’t bring myself to drink it. It might be drugged.

Despite the shuddering in my limbs, I managed to tie the sheet around my chest covering whatever I could. My heart gave an uneven thumb as a gasp left my mouth making me stumble several steps backwards as my hand moved to cover my mouth. My wide eyes looked at the wall behind me covered with large portraits of…me. Red and black.

It shouldn’t startle me, but it did. Cause some of them were lewdly drawn. If you have no idea about Ralph Romano–consider yourself lucky among a limited amount of people, cause Ralph Romano’s disaster. A living alive spawn of satan–no–the devil himself. He paint with blood and conveys screams in his paintings, he was a world-renowned artist respected by many as well as feared.

Including me. I hated him.

The anger mixed with panic, and I was able to think. I realised I was never alone, they were always there, hiding in the dark watching over me like a predator waiting for a moment to capture me between their claws. Moving away, I carefully looked around finding nothing that could be advantageous. It was filled with expensive and pleasant to the eyes. Money. For some reason, it scared me.

They were criminals with impassive amounts of money. My bare feet touched the ground–smooth and cold to the touch, like marble. My heart jumped several beats at the sudden sound of the door opening. A soft light came in, even though it was not bright, I was blinded by it. I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes.

And I saw him. Another monster.

Alexei Volkov.

He stood in the doorway like a Dark Angel. His hair curled a little around his face, softening the sharp angles of his seductive masculinity. His eyes were trained on my face his lips curled in a slight smirk. He was stunning. And utterly terrifying. My instincts were right–they found me.

“Hello, Rara.” He said softly, coming into the room. I casted a frantic glimpse around the room. I took a deep breath and forced my muscles to relax. But my body was not hearing, my heart was full-on galloping, and my hands starting to quiver. They had me in their grasp and nothing, no one could save me.

Like a demon mustered, Alexei stood in front of me, a cruel smile on his lips scared the daylight out of me.

“W-what are you doing here?” I hated my voice was trembling and my hands were frantically clasping at the edges of the sheets as if I were a pristine lassie. Which I was. They’ve ensured that.

The cruel curve of Alexei’s lips exacerbated, dark amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes.

“It’s my house.”

“What am I doing here?” Maybe I could still rescue this situation, and buy myself a little more time.

He arched his eyebrows. “Cause I want you here.” An overwhelming mix of unease and an inexplicable sense of danger coiled within me. In perfect harmony, my breath quickened, as if mirroring the hazardous warmth only he could evoke. Every fiber of my being tingled, acutely aware of his commanding presence and the ripped muscles concealed beneath the gentle fabric of his white T-shirt. His thick thighs were encased in jeans accentuated his powerful presence, while his forearms, adorned with tattoos, seemed to simultaneously suppress and magnify his muscular prowess.

He was terrorizing two years ago. Now, two years later, he was a power not to be inferred with.

“Where are we?” I asked as evenly as I could. I didn’t want to delve bottomless into the possessive bit, didn’t want to think about what he meant by that. I have a feeling I’d find out soon enough, but in the meantime, I needed to get my relevances.

“We’re in Europe,” he answered, his eyes glistening sardonically. “My territory.”

I clenched my jaw. “And where is the fucking territory?”

He chuckled. “Fiesty as always.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh.” A mischievous grin spread across his face, revealing a set of teeth so sharp and white they gleamed brilliantly against the backdrop of his sun-kissed olive complexion. His gaze glided over my trembling figure, fixating on the very spot where my hands clenched the fabric, as if caught in a timeless struggle. “Very soon.”

My body went simultaneously hot and cold, and I took a forced step back.

It was a mistake. With the grace of a stealthy hunter, he pursued me relentlessly, advancing with lethal elegance, until he stood mere inches away. His presence enveloped me as I caught a whiff of his intoxicating fragrance, an exquisite blend of rosewood and smoky allure mingled with an essence reminiscent of a tropical breeze. The enticing aroma, emanating from his very pores, served as a constant reminder of our surroundings and the inescapable confines of my newfound captivity.

Swallowing hard, I stared up into his hard-featured face as he lifted his hand and brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. His touch burned like fire, adding to the upheaval inside me.

“My sweet naive little домашний питомец,” he said softly. “Still think you can avoid this, do you?”

(Pet.)

I moistened my dry lips. I was shaking deep inside, and I didn’t know if it was from apprehension or the infernal warmth consuming me. “I need more time. Please.”

His eyes were almost pure black. “You had enough.”

But it was not enough. A thousand years wouldn’t be enough, and they know it. What they wanted was everything I fear and dread. They took everything from me, my family, my fiancé, my freedom. What more they desired, my soul?

“Please,” I tried again, and whether it was the word itself or the quake in my voice, his answering headshake was almost sympathetic. Almost regretful—even as his words slay me with all the mercilessness with which he massacred dozen of men last night.

“No more waiting, возлюбленный.” Covering my clenched hands with his big palms, he gently pried my fingers open, one by one, until the gauzy covering of my body was held up only by the corner I tucked into the material over my breasts. I could feel it slowly slipping out, untangling on its own, but he didn’t wait. Seizing both of my hands in one of his, he tugs on the sheets, ripping it along until it dropped on the floor, leaving me standing naked in front of him.

(Beloved.)

The cool air wafted over my naked skin, adding to the sensation of icy-hot needles goring my flesh and, perversely, as he bend his head and engraved the words onto my ear with his warm breath. “It’s time you give in, Rara. It’s time for you marry us.”