by Tillie Cole
I made myself store away my conditioned reaction to her being a Tolstaia. Instead I offered my hand. Talia’s shocked face fixed on my hand, but, slowly, she threaded her hand through mine.
“Talia,” I greeted, and cleared my throat. “It’s nice to meet you. I apologize for my reaction to you this morning.” I looked at Zaal to see his pride for me on his face, and that look, that look from my big brother, forced the last fragment of our family’s historic betrayal in my heart to fade away.
“Zoya,” Talia said in response. She looked like she wanted to say more. Instead she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. I was surprised at first, but when I saw Zaal laugh at his fiancée’s embrace—he laughed—I let it happen. As Talia went to move away, a simple, “Thank you,” drifted past my ear.
She was thanking me for making him happy.
I smiled at Talia and Zaal. As he put his hand around her shoulders, Talia said, “Thank you for coming to see me.”
I had turned to go back downstairs when Zaal asked, “Where are you going?”
I froze. “Back to Valentin. He remains here; therefore so do I. I’m staying with him; he’s my heart, Zaal.” I flicked a look at Zaal and said, “He’s badly injured, sykhaara: he needs to heal. And he’s alone. He needs me.”
I had set off for the stairs when I heard: “You’ll both come with us. There’s no way I’m having my sister-in-law and her boyfriend sleeping in this place, in ‘the Darkness,’ for Christ sakes. You’ll come home with us; we have plenty of room. And you’ll stay for however long you wish.”
I had opened my mouth to respond when Zaal caught Pavel’s eye. Zaal flicked his head and said, “Help me get Valentin into the car; we’re taking him to my home.” Before I could argue, Zaal had walked down the stairs, Pavel and some other guards following immediately behind.
As I watched Valentin go I felt my heart swell. Suddenly Talia was beside me, and she laid a hand on my shoulder. “You have completed him, Zoya. By returning, you have healed the last crack in his heart.”
Without looking at her, I said, “Not as much as you do. I may have only been five when we parted, but I know my brother, and you have saved him. I didn’t need to be here to know what you’ve done for him.”
Talia was silent: then she whispered, “It’s because I love him more than myself. More than life.”
I hid a happy smile. Shrugging, I replied, “Then no matter what has happened between our families in the past, this allows us to forgive, forget, and rebuild.”
“It does?” Talia asked with a relieved sigh.
“It does.”
Then we all went home.
22
ZOYA
A week came and went, days spent lying beside Valentin in bed. With each day he grew stronger. He didn’t speak often. I could tell that his mind would wander to dark places—he had so many to choose from that I was never quite sure which occupied his mind. But the times he held me close, the times he curled me against his body and pulled me hard against his chest as though I might leave if he didn’t keep me close, I knew he was thinking of his sister.
He would kiss me and touch me, but never sexually. I wasn’t sure if it was due to his injuries or something more sinister. He caressed me as though he was savoring every part of me—committing me to memory, as he had said to me in the chamber. It sent fear down my spine, because to me it felt like our situation was temporary—like he feared that one day we must say good-bye.
When I woke each day, it was to find him watching me, body tensed like he was preparing for me to say or do something—I didn’t know what. When I asked him if he was okay, he would pull me close and simply say, “Yes.”
But there was something.
Zaal and Talia left us alone, but I had begun to spend time with them, little by little. And Zaal was right, I really liked Talia, and I loved how deeply she loved my brother.
One day later that week, I walked into our suite’s bedroom and found the bed was empty. I frowned. Valentin did not seem to be strong enough to be out of bed when I checked in on him this morning. I placed my coffee on the table and headed for the bathroom. As I approached I heard the sound of the running shower.
Silently I pushed the door open and tiptoed inside. Valentin’s sweatpants were in a heap on the floor. When I looked at the glass cubicle, I saw his large body standing motionless under the hot spray.
Steam billowed in the room, fogging up the large mirror on the wall. Even though the steam was thick I could see Valentin’s head was down, the fast spray caressing his skull.
Without thinking I stripped off my clothes, dropping them on the floor over his. The steam clung to my skin. Eyes fixed on Valentin, I quietly opened the shower door and slipped inside. The door closed behind me. In his numb state Valentin didn’t even register that I was behind him.
I lifted my hands to touch Valentin’s broad tattooed scarred back. Valentin jumped when my hands touched his skin, and his head whipped back to look at me. His eyes were pained yet soft as they met mine. His head turned forward, and I pressed my mouth to his wet skin, peppering kisses along his wide shoulders.
Valentin’s skin tasted sweet against my mouth. Continuing my exploration, I moved around his body until I was standing in front of him. Valentin’s head was downcast, but that didn’t stop me kissing his chest, over the black tattooed identity number.
His breathing increased as I sucked and lapped at his skin. Too much time had passed since we’d made love. And we were out of the chamber and free. We were free to make love without the fear of being caught or hurt.
Just us.
Joined.
In love.
My hands ran over Valentin’s pectorals and as they ghosted over his skin I felt moisture pool at my core. My hands dropped down to Valentin’s ripped torso, until they moved to his length—his length was hard, awaiting my attention.
I rolled my lips and glanced to his face, but Valentin’s head was still down. His eyes were squeezed shut and his nostrils were flared. His full lips were thin and pursed. His muscles felt like stone under my touch.
I couldn’t understand what was wrong. I knew if I asked him he wouldn’t answer me. Whatever was troubling him was buried deep inside.
Needing him to snap out of this numbness, I wrapped my hand around his hardness and began stroking it up and down. Slowly at first, but harder and faster when no reaction was forthcoming.
“Valentin,” I whispered as my mouth found his nipple and licked over the flesh. I moaned at the taste and closeness of this dominant man. I squeezed my thighs together as the pressure at my center began to ache.
Valentin’s breathing labored at my attention. Just when I feared nothing would happen, Valentin suddenly reached forward. Hard and powerful hands picked me up and Valentin’s hard body slammed me against the wall. My head threw back as his mouth kissed my neck, and I cried out as his chest pushed against my breasts. My fingers clutched at his bulging back, and when his length slipped to run through my folds my fingernails pushed through his skin.
Valentin snapped.
Suddenly pulling himself from his numbness, Valentin roared out long and loud and hitched up my legs. My back slid up the wet tiles of the shower. Before I could draw breath, Valentin slammed into my channel. I cried out, a mixture of shock and intense pleasure from the fullness of Valentine inside me. He did not pause for me to adjust to his size. Instead he tucked his head in the crook between my neck and shoulder, and began thrusting hard and fast. I gripped on to his shoulders as he possessed and dominated me. I submitted, wholeheartedly and with complete abandon. It was quick, the quickest I had ever felt the oncoming climax. As if sensing I was about to burst apart, Valentin pounded into me with an incredible force, my mouth dropping open and a scream pouring out into the steamy air as my climax took me by surprise.
Behind my eyes, bright lights blinded me and my body convulsed at the all-consuming pleasure surging through my body. My core clenched Valentin’s length, and with a loud cr
y Valentin slammed into me one last time. Every muscle in Valentin’s body stiffened and his grip on my legs was iron tight. His seed was warm as it poured into me. Our breathing, in the aftermath, was heavy.
My head, now limp, fell to lie on Valentin’s shoulder. I smiled, feeling weightless and loved.
This was what I craved from Valentin. His strong and unyielding presence. After a lifetime of feeling unsafe, his presence brought with it a sense of protection and possession.
I breathed in the hot air that filled every inch of the cubicle. After minutes suspended in the same position, Valentin pulled out from within me and brought me to my feet. My cheek was pressed against his torso, and I leaned against his strongly built frame.
Valentin tensed when I lifted my head. When I looked up into his eyes, they were wide and braced, as though I was about to react. As if I were about to say something that would crush his soul.
Nervousness trickled into my body. Lifting my hands to pull his head down to me, I asked, “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes, are wide and filled with apprehension, but I don’t why. You need to talk to me, Valentin. I love you. Please let me in.”
Valentin expelled a rough breath. Seeming full of frustration, he turned on his heel and pushed out of the shower. He left the bathroom without drying off or taking a towel. Wanting this resolved now, I followed.
My skin shivered as my nakedness hit the cooler air of the bedroom. But I ignored it. My eyes fixed on Valentin, who was sitting on the end of the bed. He head was in his hands, his knuckles white and his muscles flinching.
I approached slowly and spoke. “Valentin—”
“How is it that you’re with me?” Valentin interrupted. I stilled, shocked and confused by his very direct question.
“How is it that I’m with you?” I asked gently, not wanting to upset him more.
Valentin lifted his head and his tortured blue eyes bored into mine. My heart sank when I saw real doubt etched on his face. He really meant this. He meant every single word. He couldn’t understand why I was here with him.
“Valentin,” I spoke, “I love you. Surely that is reason enough?”
Valentin looked down at his hands, his palms upturned. He glared at his hands and said, “I hurt you. I caused you pain. I made you scream. How can you love me? Lots of time has gone past, and I keep waiting, I keep waiting for you to realize that you thought you loved me, because I had captured you and made you bend to my will. Every day when you wake, I wait for you to see the real monster lying in your bed. I wait for you to tell me to leave, disgusted by what I’ve done to you.”
My mouth dropped open hearing such rawness, the sheer pain in his voice. “I won’t,” I assured.
But Valentin got to his feet and shook his head. “You will. I took your innocence and made you mine. You said it yourself; I am a thief of hearts. I stole your first kiss with these lips. I stole your virgin barrier. And I took you, possessed you, made you mine. And I did that. I did that without your permission. I took it. And foolishly, you fell in love with me, the fucking ugly beast.”
Anger stirred within me. Stepping forward, I pointed at his chest, and I shouted, “I may have fallen for you, beast or not, but never call me foolish! I may have been untouched, but I was anything but innocent. I wanted you. Despite how fucked-up it sounds, I wanted to feel your hand caress me when I was shackled to that wall. Not at first; at first you terrified me. Of course I feared you, but when I saw the real you emerge through my pleasure, I craved you. I wanted you to take me.”
“That’s fucked up, Zoya,” he stated plainly.
“Then it’s fucked up. I don’t care.”
Valentin’s lips pulled over his teeth and he stepped forward to meet me. His huge frame towered over me. The scowl on his scarred and stern face should have induced fear. But for me, it didn’t.
Valentin peered down at me and, grabbing my hand, he brought it to his face. He ran my fingers over his deep scars—on his cheeks, on and over his eyes, down the side of his lips, and down to his chest. I watched my roving hand, but Valentin stopped, too many scars on his skin to pick one out.
He guided my palm to stop on his ruined face and asked, “How can you want this?” There was no longer any anger in his voice; instead his shoulders had slumped and his expression pleaded with me for an answer.
I couldn’t give one. His face was beautiful to me. Scarred, ruined, or not.
“I have looked in the mirror since we have been free. The drugs have finally gone from my body, allowing me a clarity I’ve never had before. And I can see me. I can see the man I’ve become. The man that fucking evil bitch turned me into. A monster to look at, and the things I’ve done…” I shook my head, but Valentin put his fingers over my lips to silence me. “Kotyonok, I am your Tbilisi monster. I stole you like the monster stole the children. I hurt you just like the monster hurt them. Only you can’t see it.”
His piercing blue eyes—the only part of his face untouched—searched mine. I knew he was waiting for the penny to drop. He was waiting for me to realize I didn’t want him.
He’d never been wanted.
Only this time he was, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.
Removing Valentin’s fingers from my lips, I clutched them in my hand and said, “You’re right.” I watched as his face paled with devastation as soon as those words left my lips. Feeling his pain in my heart, I stepped even closer, until our chests touched, and continued, “You are the Tbilisi monster, Valentin. You stole me. You hurt me. You brought me pain.” Valentin had stilled, but with a tilted head and an expression of pure love I added, “But from the minute I heard the story I had an obsession with that monster. And when all the children were running away from the dangerous monster in the woods, I would instead stand at the edge of the line of trees, searching through the darkness of the forest, trying to bring him home, so he would not be alone, so he would never again be alone.”
Valentin’s expression caused my heart to crack. I knew the regret for what he’d done to me was taking its hold.
“I can’t make love,” he abruptly whispered. “I can only fuck, brutal and hard. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He stepped back as if his very presence would wound me.
I followed this movement. “That’s fine, because I can make love to you.”
His head shook in protest. “I’m not soft or kind or loving, or—”
“That’s fine, because I am all of these things and, besides, I love you. You, not someone you think I should have.”
Valentin groaned as though he couldn’t cope with my words. His hands lifted to grip the sides of his head. “I’m fucked up. The Mistress fucked me up. I’ll cause you pain even when I want to make love.” He paused, and with lost eyes he said, “And I look like this; I’m designed to scare everyone I meet. I was never meant to be loved.”
Closing in until we shared the same air, I reached down and took hold of his length, and I said, “And all that is fine, because I love you unconditionally, and I will not break. You can be who you need to be with me. You can dominate me, possess me, and own me. Because I want you and accept whatever that comes with. I want to love you and want you to love me back, so that we both are never again alone.”
“Zoya,” Valentin whispered painfully, but this time I heard a hint of acceptance in his tone. His length hardened at my touch.
Flesh to flesh, I moved my mouth below his ear and said, “I am going to make love to you now. I am going to take the lead and show you with my body just how I feel for you, in my heart.”
Valentin’s forehead fell onto my shoulder, and he admitted in a hushed voice, “I’m not only scarred on the outside, kotyonok; I’m scarred on the inside: my mind, my heart, and my soul.”
I fought back tears and the raw emotion of his confession. Turning my head until my lips met his long scar, I pressed them against the raised skin and said, “And I will find those scars as beautiful as I do these.”
A s
trangled moan fell from Valentin’s lips. As it did, I pushed him to sit on the bed, my hands on his chest.
Valentin lay back on the mattress. Wet and ready, needing to physically express my love, I straddled Valentin’s thighs and crushed my lips against his.
As soon as I tasted him in my mouth, I rolled my wet center along his length, slow and controlled, lovingly, not rushed. Valentin wrapped his arms around my waist. Following my lead, he lazily massaged his tongue against mine. I was breathless from the slow intensity of this moment. Needing more, needing to show him just how much he was wanted, I lifted my thighs and, with my hand, placed his hardness at my entrance.
I pushed down, the tip of his length breaching my channel. Pausing, I caged in Valentin’s head with my arms and licked along the seam of his lips with my tongue. Valentin tried to take control and pushed me down on his length, but I shook my head, and whispered, “Just feel. Let me go slow.”
A low growl built in his chest, but his hands loosened and with a painstaking yet delicious slowness I pushed down on his length, taking him into my body inch by inch.
Valentin threw his head back, his eyes closed and his mouth opened at the intensity of the feeling. “I love you,” I confessed quietly as I took him all in and he filled me so full.
I smoothed my hands down to his shoulders. Using his strength, I pushed up until only the tip of him was still inside me, before pushing back down on a long hungry groan.
I rose and fell, rose and fell, until a light sheen had built on our skin. Valentin’s eyes were leaden and filled with love as he allowed me to take control. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, and his warm minty breath released in short ragged pants.
As I felt my body beginning to tingle, both of our moans grew in volume and speed. I rolled my hips back and forth, my clit dragging against his hard muscles.
“Valentin,” I whispered so it was barely audible, “I’m close, baby. I’m so close.”
Valentin opened his mouth, but his voice hitched in his throat. I knew that was a sign he was close; with that his length seemed to expand within my channel, its girth pushing against something inside me that made me see stars.
