by Ashley Logan
"If you feel you should leave, then you should," I replied, avoiding his eyes and hugging my knees closer. "I am used to being alone. You are right. I am also feeling like I need a shower."
He nodded. "Right. Water helps with the transition. It's cleansing."
Watching me a moment longer, he seemed to be deciding something - even nodding to himself. Moving to the door, he leaned his forehead against it as his hand rested on the lock that doubled as a handle.
"I'll be back late. I'm expected to make an appearance at poker. A strong appearance," he added as his shoulders seemed to broaden in front of my eyes. "I may not return until morning."
"I do not even know when morning is Pachenko, but thank you for letting me know. I will be here when you return of course, hoping you have won enough to keep me for three and a half more weeks."
Lying down to face the wall, I tried not to think too hard about what happened outside of the cabin. I knew enough to know that I didn't want to know.
He didn't leave straight away. I could feel his eyes on me again for a while, but I didn't risk looking back in case I couldn't keep my emotions contained. Looking at the wall was safer.
"I won't let you down Natascha," he said softly before clearing his throat, inhaling deeply and leaving me behind two locks.
Each time I tried to understand how I had gone from hating and fearing the man, to liking him, then trying to kill him, to loving him and kissing him and then somehow landing back at hating him, my head hurt. For someone who tended to dream most of her life away, I couldn't have even imagined how such a process was possible.
After a shower I felt more capable. I ate. I exercised, keeping my head in reality as I did so, with the idea of being strong and healthy forefront in my mind if I was to successfully escape the Moskva-Liis.
I wondered how I would fare in a lifeboat, and if I would be close enough to land to be able to see it. What if I wasn't strong enough to reach it? What if I was lost at sea forever?
I told myself that it would still be better than living under Pachenko on the Moskva-Liis, but it was hard to believe when I thought of how he had treated me since I'd arrived in his room. He cared for me. This much was obvious to me.
I'd believed him when he'd said he loved me, and angry as I was at the situation, I believed that I loved him too.
Maybe I needed to believe it. I didn't want to think about it too hard. I didn't know if being a hostage had interfered with my good judgment. It undoubtedly had. All I knew was that I was safe with him, and he was so very confusing; but beautiful in many ways. I'd never met a man that had felt as unreal as I did, but could be himself around me when I was being myself.
There was something there. Something real.
We had both been struggling to believe it; denying it to ourselves and each other, but it was there.
I thought about it long and hard all day. Maybe all night, because when Pachenko finally returned, I wasn't at all sure that I'd slept.
Running through his usual routine, he looked as if he was going to settle into his chair until I moved right against the wall and cleared my throat.
"You are exhausted."
Running a hand through his hair, his eyes ran the length of my body. I was covered in blankets, so it wasn't a sexual look, but as his teeth grazed his bottom lip, I definitely felt myself warm a little.
He took a step towards the bed and hesitated. He stepped back in the direction of the rickety chair.
"I've been drinking," he stated, as if it explained everything.
"Not so much that you are not thinking very hard right now. You do not want to sleep?"
"I... don't want to scare you more," he replied, looking between the bed and the chair.
"You can sleep on the bed. I am not scared. I am tired. I have not been asleep myself."
He didn't lie on the bed, merely looked at me with an uncertain expression. "You waited for me?"
Frowning a moment, I nodded. "I think so. Yes."
"What do you mean, you think so?"
"I was thinking. A lot. About you. And I did not sleep," I explained. "I think that I was waiting for you, so I would not have to think about what you were maybe doing. I am tired now that I know where you are."
When he still didn't move, I patted the bed.
"I will not mind if you hold me in my sleep either. I like it."
Mumbling something in Russian, he scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed. "I shouldn't, Natascha. I don't trust myself right now. With you."
"Because of a little vodka? You are not drunk enough to worry about forgetting to be Pachenko. You are not drunk enough to not care about how you are behaving, yet you are worried you might touch me? Do you even remember that you kissed me?"
"I can't forget," he muttered, sinking into the chair and taking out his flask.
"You will drink to forget me now?" I asked, keeping the tremor from my voice by sheer willpower.
"I doubt I will ever forget you as long as I live," he replied, tilting his flask back.
Rolling over to face the wall again, I stared at it with hot eyes, knowing that if I allowed my eyelids to close, I would not be able to stop the ready tears from falling. I refused to cry for this man.
"Is it sad, Pachenko?"
The flask sloshed behind me as he lowered it. "Is what sad?"
"If the only person who will remember me, does not want to," I replied coldly before pulling up the blankets to cover my ears. "I do not suppose it matters. Good night Pachenko."
"Natascha," he started, but I shook my head.
"Good night Pachenko."
Pulling the blankets tight around me, I closed my eyes and hoped he would be gone again when I woke up.
He wasn't.
It was worse.
Or better.
I hadn't decided yet. His warm breath was tickling my neck.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I lay quietly in his arms, wondering when he had come onto the bed.
Not into.
I was still under the blankets and he was not, but he was tucked closely against my spine and his strong arm was draped possessively over me.
Each deep breath against my neck sent distracting shivers through me and I questioned my grasp on reality each time, because I was enjoying it. Despite not wanting this, I wanted it. Badly.
How can a person bounce from one end of the scale to the other? And back again. So fast, it made my thoughts blurry. I stopped thinking at all, deciding it was easier just to feel.
I felt good in his arms.
Safe. Warm. Comforted.
He stirred behind me and his face shifted away from my neck.
I missed it.
Nuzzling into my hair, he resettled with a soft sigh before jerking awake. Completely still for a moment, he lifted his arm off me and rolled backwards.
"I'm sorry Natascha."
"For hugging me just now, or for how you spoke to me last night?"
"Both," he replied quickly before correcting himself. "Maybe."
I rolled to face him, but he continued to stare at the ceiling.
"You are on the bed."
"Yes," he agreed. "I-"
His lips pressed into a hard line.
"You what?"
"Last night..." Sighing, he squeezed his eyes shut. "I didn't mean to make you sad. I wanted to apologize, but I didn't think you'd let me. I waited until you were asleep and then I hugged you. It was a stupid decision, I know. I just wanted you to feel how sorry I was, then I was going to sleep in the chair. But... I didn't."
Rolling off the bed, he kept his back to me. "I'll stay away from now on."
"That is what you want?" I kept my tone neutral, hoping he wouldn't hear the opposition in my voice.
"It doesn't matter what I want, Natascha. I'm not free to choose," he said irritably.
"What about what I want?"
"You're not free either," he said sharply before shutting himself in the bathroom.
He emerge
d showered, dressed and distracted. Changing silently into Pachenko, he left me alone. Again.
Groaning in frustration, I rolled out of bed for another day of confusion and boredom induced activity.
I showered and brushed my hair; tied it up and studied the contents of my suitcase with a distinct lack of inspiration.
I was only free to make such limited choices. What to wear? When to eat? How to while away the hours of my captivity?
Rummaging through the clothes I'd worn over and over in as many combinations as I could fathom, I paused on something I had not yet worn. A pair of dark red panties made entirely of lace, cut high at the cheeks and low at the front.
What I had been thinking when I packed them, I'm not entirely sure. Probably that I would need something super sexy to wear when I found a decent man to show them to. I'd planned to meet many of them in America. I'd hoped to be spoiled for choice; able to pick and choose my fun in a way that I hadn't been able to in Tallinn. My occupation there had left me wary of many men in the area.
Sighing, I twirled the panties around on my finger. If I didn't wear them now, I might never get to wear them.
Pulling them on, I checked out my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Too small and too high, the mirror offered little feedback, but I felt sexy in the panties, and I guessed that was the main thing.
I danced in the panties. A mixture of classical ballet and Saskia's styles. That felt good too. I wondered if maybe Saskia had given me more than just protection back in Tallinn. She'd offered me an outlet for feelings I couldn't express openly without inviting a lot of unwanted attention.
My situation now was strangely similar. I felt things inside that I couldn't express - whether from confusion or for safety purposes. I couldn't tell which anymore. Both probably; but dancing in my sexy panties felt so good, I did it several times.
Sometimes I even imagined Pachenko walking in and surprising me. He'd lock the door and whisk me against the wall where his mouth would taste every inch of my body until I was begging him to stop. Then he'd rip my silly panties off and take me; holding me tightly in his arms when we came together.
But he didn't even come in the door, and I was left feeling foolish once again for imagining such things.
Flopping onto the bed next to my suitcase, I wrote in my notebook about what a perverted and messed up person I must be to have fallen for my captor. Also, what a messed-up man he must be when he refused to take advantage of such easy prey.
It wasn't until I had read what I had written that I realized he might truly love me as he'd said. Why else would he be trying so hard not to take advantage of me? Did I want to be taken advantage of? I lay on my back staring up at the blank ceiling, uncertain of so many things.
I didn't know if I'd ever escape the Moskva-Liis. If I did, would I survive beyond it? I might die trying. Three weeks felt like an eternity away, but also like no time at all. How did I want to spend my final days aboard?
Running my fingers over my bare chest, I shivered. Yes. I definitely wanted him to take advantage of me. I knew he would be good to me and I longed to be loved by someone.
No. Not someone. Him.
I longed to be loved by him.
His love was as sturdy as his kiss had been. Backed by truth and emotion, it had convinced my broken heart that it could be healed. But I had obviously not given him the same feelings. He was reluctant to love me openly.
Stretching, I rolled back onto my stomach and kept writing. Feelings were more clear for me when I wrote about them and I'd hoped that if I wrote about him, the reasons for his behavior would soon become clear to me too.
DEEP IN THOUGHT, I didn't realize how late it must have been. I didn't hear his intentionally quiet turning of the locks and I didn't hear him step inside the cabin. I only turned when he hit the locks loudly once the door closed.
Sitting up in a rush, I spun around to face him, hand held to my pounding heart.
"You gave me a fright," I admitted as he shrugged out of his jacket. He was looking at me strangely; his expression one of intense concentration and his eyes were giving me too much attention.
"Are you Saskia?"
Taken aback, I shook my head as I pulled my notebook into my lap.
"Saskia does not write, or sit cross-legged," he agreed, covering his mouth with his hand as he stroked his jaw and his eyes bored into mine. He shifted his feet as if uncomfortable.
"I don't know what this means," he said finally as he gestured to me. "Please put some clothes on before I get back."
Disappearing into the bathroom, he turned the shower on and shut the door.
My cheeks blazed in his absence and I pulled a t-shirt from my suitcase and tugged it over my head, having forgotten I was only in panties.
Nikolai's reaction was not even close to the hot-blooded daydream I'd had earlier.
The recurring thought that I might actually be a daydream came to the fore again. After all, he was the only one seeing me, and he hadn't even recognized me.
Opening my notebook again, I wrote a note to myself.
You are real Natascha.
I was putting the notebook away when he reappeared freshly showered. Nikolai. He watched me as I zipped the pocket closed over the colorful journal.
"Your English is very good Natascha. Do you write in English?"
He seemed more relaxed and it helped me to calm my own nerves.
"I learned better from listening and singing. I do not write it well," I replied, tucking my suitcase back below the bunk. Straightening back up, I narrowed my eyes at him. "You were hoping to read my notebook?"
Looking a little guilty, he shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter if it's all in Estonian, does it?"
Combing his wet hair with his fingers a moment, he chewed the inside of his cheek. "You were Saskia today?" he asked, running his fingers along the desk and only raising his eyes to mine when I didn't answer.
"No," I said quietly. "I was only Natascha."
His dark brows pulled down slightly. I knew what he was thinking and I looked away as my cheeks warmed.
"I was being... free with what little freedom I have."
His frown deepened as he thought about that a moment. "You are sure you did not feel the need to be Saskia, because of me?"
Shaking my head, I pulled the blanket up further, even though it already covered my bare legs.
"I understand when I need to be Saskia," I assured him as I pointed to his chair and waited. "Saskia is made for protection. Is what she does. I do not need her when Natascha is... mostly fine."
Watching him a moment as he slowly sank into the chair, I sighed.
"I worry about Nikolai. He is full of arguments with no winners. He feels guilt at so many things that he cannot talk about them. Including that he does not want to see Natascha in her underwear. He does not want to love Natascha."
He opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand to stop him.
"It does not mean he does not love her," I added, smiling as his shoulders eased. "But he feels he shouldn't. For many reasons, maybe. Natascha does not care why. Natascha only needs him to keep loving her. Okay?"
"Yes," he replied, looking away.
"Good. And she will love Nikolai."
His eyes flew back to mine and I shrugged.
"He needs her. He is lost and she knows where to find him."
One eyebrow twitched.
"Where?"
"The jungle," I answered with a smile as I gestured about the cabin. "Also, he needs Natascha to help him when he is found. His neck is sore and she knows how to fix it."
He laughed softly and rubbed his neck. "There was a monkey swinging on it yesterday. I don't know how helpful she could be."
"Come." I gestured for him to sit on the bed as I sat up better. "She will make it feel better. You will see."
When he hesitated, I rolled my eyes at him. "If you are sore, you will not be protecting me as well as you should. Now sit jeans dow
n and take off tank so I can make you strongest Pachenko."
Narrowing his eyes at me, he still did not sit.
"A monkey ballerina took advantage of your weakness and stole your gun," I reminded him, proving others might do the same.
Removing his tops, he sat on the edge of the bed with a 'hmpf'.
"She caught me by surprise."
"Yes, but you know her to be surprising, so this is not a good excuse," I teased, kissing his forehead and climbing around him on my way to the bathroom for my anti-inflammatory cream.
When I returned, he was pacing.
I shut the bathroom door carefully.
"Why are you not sitting?"
Jaw tight, he gestured to me - or to be more precise, my bottom half.
"They are just underwear."
"They are just teeny," he responded in the same tone. "You will not rub my neck dressed that way."
"Why not? I do not care. It is warm in here and you have seen me without clothes. I am many times waking up in different clothes than I fell asleep in."
"I was putting clothes on you. Not taking them off. I can't... relax with you in those."
"You do not like the way they look?" I asked knowingly, pulling my shirt up to give him a better view.
He yanked it down again. "You know I do," he growled.
"Hmm." I acted thoughtful as I nodded. "You do like them. And you like this even better."
I pulled my t-shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor.
"Natascha!"
"What?" I said with a laugh. "Is just a body. You are scared of very strange things. You are being silly and I am playing with you. Come and sit, and I will put my shirt back on."
Climbing onto the bed, I opened the anti-inflammatory cream and patted the spot in front of me.
"I will show you that your neck can feel better and you will not even notice what I am wearing."
Scowling at me from across the cabin, he picked my shirt up off the floor and threw it at me.
