What makes you think you can enjoy anything when you’re fucking defective?
Despite those thoughts and the black face in the mirror. Despite the blood that rushed out of me and the strokes of red on my canvas, I can’t help the jolt of hope or the simmering expectation that envelops me as I step out of the mansion and snap my usual picture.
I wasn’t going to bother with the AirPods since Nikolai always removes them, sometimes not so nicely, but if I don’t wear them, then he’ll think it’s because of him.
Isn’t that the case?
I ignore the voice in my head as I put the music on pause, my heart beating faster the farther I get from the mansion.
This is the first time I’ve been excited about something and desired it with every fiber of my being. So much so that it’s starting to freak me out.
The first time I’ve considered taking the pain as long as I get the pleasure first.
At least, for a while.
My feet come to a halt when a large figure cuts in front of me and I remain still as he plucks both AirPods from my ears.
Nikolai is shirtless, which isn’t anything new. What is new, however, is the savage look in his eyes. His tone comes out sarcastic, though. “A very good day to you, lotus flower. Do you have anything to tell me?”
I swallow the dread that gathers in my throat as I speak in my calm voice. “No. Why should I?”
He takes a step forward and I take one back. If I don’t let him get close, everything will be fine.
Things only get worse after he touches me.
Nikolai stops and fingers his necklace, tugging on the bullet until I’m sure he’ll break the thing. “I clearly told you not to move last night, so why did you run away and ignore my texts?”
He texted? I’ve had my phone on Do Not Disturb since I got back to the house and only took it out to snap the picture just now. But before I can offer up the flimsy excuse, Nikolai runs his fingers through his loose hair.
“Your push-and-pull game was adorable the first few times, but you need to cut it out. Don’t make me do it for you. We both know my methods don’t agree with your proper manners.”
I suck in a deep breath. “Get out of my life, Nikolai.”
“The answer is no.”
“I want you gone.”
“It’s still no.”
“Do you have no pride?”
“What the fuck is that? Is it edible?”
I release an exasperated sound. “I don’t know why the hell you’re obsessed with me, but I’m telling you that it’s impossible. I’m not gay.”
He bursts out laughing, the sound scraping at the edges of my sanity, and I want to reach out to stop it, but I can’t move.
Shut up.
Shut the fuck up—
“Not gay?” he sneers at me. “Baby, you came three times on my hand, mouth, and fucking fingers. You choked on my cock and came because of a mere prostate fucking. If that isn’t gay, I don’t know what is.”
“Stop talking,” I grit out, trying to fight the pounding in my head.
I need to leave before he sees me for the ugly monster I actually am.
“What the—” He snatches my hand, and for a fraction of a second, I feel like the world is tilting back on its axis.
I inhale his mint scent and spit out disgusting nausea until my stomach settles back down.
Nikolai inspects the plaster on my forearm. “What happened to your arm?”
“It’s just a scratch.” I try to retrieve it, but he tightens his grip on my wrist. Over the watch I never remove.
He narrows his eyes. “Why do you seem to get hurt a lot? The other day, it was your hand, and this time, your arm. You don’t strike me as clumsy.”
I watch his hair flying in the wind and I hate that the only urge I have is to touch it, run my fingers through it.
But I can’t.
Wanting him is a painful struggle. Wanting him is ripping a hole in the very marrow of my existence and making me question everything.
I can’t afford to question everything.
I need my system and routines, and he simply does not belong there.
He’s an error in the matrix.
A plot hole in a story.
“Why do you want me, Nikolai?” I ask instead of answering his question. “We’re nothing alike—I’m too proper for your liking. You’re too violent for my preferences. So why are you this obsessed with me?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“Of course you do.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t need a reason to want you, lotus flower. I just do. And if you put a pause on the useless thoughts cramming that head of yours, you’ll also admit that you just want me, too. Simple. Normal.”