CHAPTER 004
1237 Words
The point of view of ANASTASIA
colder. I start with that first thing.
Something more than the clean, piercing cold of a winter breeze. Something that slips into my flesh finds home in my bones. a wet, smothering sort of cold.
I started to open my eyes.
Nightfall.
One torch swings against the stone walls to create long, restless shadows. The air smells strongly of moist dirt, iron, and something else….something known.
Strength.
I turn, and I feel it then.
Bonds.
Thick, weighty, chewing into my wrists. A cutting, scorching fire spreads across my flesh. silver.
smartest. Whoever did this absolutely knows what I am.
Pulling against them, I try my will. Pain acute enough to steal my breath heats my arms.
My feeble, slow wolf stirs inside me.
Something's not quite right.
I close my eyes and try to reason. The forest. The struggle is underway. Blood smells. Then—empty nothing.
Where Am I?
Listen.
a weak rustle. The low scrape of a boot on stone.
Someone's here. viewing. Await.
I raise my chin and search for the blackness.
Nothing in particular.
I let out a slow expiration. You're quiet," I say, voice scratchy from thirst. "Wonder how long you have been standing there."
No reply.
I start to shudder down my spine.
Then—
You're waking.
The voice is flawless and consistent. Depths.
Then familiar.
A shadow wanders from the blackness.
height. Unwavering. Black dress.
The torchlight flickers over a powerful jaw, cold blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones.
Leonardo Romanov.
My pulse pushes into my ribcage.
I am familiar with that face.
I will myself try to smile. And you still have the same theatrical impact.
He does not respond. Just observe me, unreadable in sight.
"You crossed into my grounds," he replies.
"I never knew they belonged to you."
Lying.
I let out a grin. "Maybe."
His eyes swung over me, stopping at my wrists. The silver burns, but I maintain a cool head.
You are not a rebel.
Though quiet, the words are definite.
My stillness of breath.
He approaches just enough for me to sense his heat.
"You're something else."
I stay still. Do not respond.
Let him not see.
I incline my head. And what do you consider me to be?
A slink of something in his eyes. Inquiry. Intriguing.
Owner.
That's a horrible look.
That my body recalls what it was like to be under makes me loathe.
"You always liked mystery," I remarked with an even voice. "Shame I lack, like, being one tonight."
He lets out controlled, deliberate breaths.
You say too much.
"You gaze excessively."
quiet.
Then...
You used to consider me to be dangerous.
I started to laugh. "You used to be."
a slanted head tilt slowly. And now?
I changed my stance and let the chain between my wrists rattle as I moved. "Right now, I believe you're just playing."
He flashes something black across his face.
difficult.
He approaches and looks down at my throat. an intentional glance. a deliberate, slow gaze.
Seeing the way my pulse leaps.
Bad him.
I will not allow him to exercise that authority.
I say, "I don't fear you."
"You Should."
"I don't."
Stillness.
After that—
"Not even a tiny?"
He says it in this way. Low; intrigued.
Like the thought appeals to him.
I grind my jaw. Not.
Liar.
There is heavy air between us. Too little spoken. Too much is tucked under the surface.
I killed the girl he loved two years ago.
I will not let her rise now.
Time slides in slow, torturous waves.
The flames on the torches burn lower. The stone walls seem to be smaller. The chains of silver weigh more.
Leonid goes, but his influence stays.
I detest that.
Hate the way my body still detects his presence.
The way my flesh burns is not only from the metal.
I close my eyes.
I had to leave from here.
The next time he visits, I am prepared.
You have been dreaming, he adds.
I raise an eyebrow. "You've been observing?"
"You talk in your sleep."
I stall.
Leaning against the bars, he studies me.
"What do I say?"
"names."
A sluggish, chilly shudder slinkers up my spine.
I have a blank expression. "I deal with a lot of men."
His teeth get tight. "NOT these ones."
I say nothing at all.
One waits.
He moves nearer, his voice lowering.
"They're dead, aren't they?"
I fix my eyes on him.
"You just whisper the ghosts' names."
His viewing of me has some harmful aspects.
not as an enemy.
Not for prey.
But something else as well.
Something he already possesses.
I swallowed, driving the idea away.
I have never belonged to anybody.
Not even me.
specifically not him.
He gives me refreshments.
I fix my sight on it. Now at him.
"Poisoned?"
He gives a smirk. Not now.
Though I'm not smiling, my lips twitch. I sip gradually.
"Do you always treat prisoners as nursemaids?"
"Only the most intriguing ones."
She hums. "Lucky me."
"Lucky is not the word I would use."
"Not?"
He leans in close enough to feel his breath against my cheek.
"Curses fit better."
He goes away.
I dislike him.
I detest the fact that I want him to stay.
Later, I sense it when the guards switch.
There is a change in the air. A fresh aroma.
One that causes my gut to turn over.
volkov.
His name strikes me like thunder in brain space.
I draw against the chains, the silver cutting across my wrists.
Not one. Not himself.
Not presently.
Leonid shows before I can say anything.
"He asked about you," he reports.
My heart crashes.
"What did you share with him?"
"That you were dead."
I fix my sight on him.
Furthermore, he thought you?
"He intended to."
I swallow deliberately.
Thus near.
far too close.
"Why preserve me?"
Leonid's face gets harder.
"I said it was to protect you, not specifically."
He turns and starts to go.
"I said it because it was easiest."
He shows up once more.
Always at night.
Always when shadows and dream scents permeate the dense air.
This time he kneels next to me.
Close in mind. Very near.
His hands sweep the chain's edge.
Not the silver.
Our skin.
"You're changed," he says softly.
therefore have you.
His gaze locked with mine.
Dark. Unbounded.
"We both right now are broken."
There is a quiet between us.
overly loud.
too actual.
I backed off.
"Why me?"
"Because you only ever looked at me and saw the monster."
My chest constricts.
"And stayed."
My voice hardly whispers at all. "That woman's gone."
"Then let me meet the one who took her place."
His hand raised.
affects my face.
tender.
delicate.
Incorrect.
Correct.
My breaths stop.
I approach it.
Just a tiny bit.
Just right.
He does not plant a kiss on me.
He isn't obliged to.
Its weight is already there.
The cell empties the following day.
With the exception of me.
And one note also.
You are faced with two options.
Come along.
Die, alternatively.
I fix my sights on it.
My pulse thumps.
My skin turns brown.
Not out of silver.
However, from something else.
Something past.
Something ingrained in my bones.
What sort of monster is he?
And why do I sense I had been tied to him long before this event?
- Writer
