The Darkness Within

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

At some point during my paralysis last night, I fell asleep. I hadn't thought I would be able to—the panic of not being able to move ought to have kept me awake—but it didn't. And when I woke up this morning, I was beyond relieved to see I could mover my arms and legs as normal. My muscles felt slightly stiff and my ass stung at the barest contact with anything, but both have thankfully faded throughout the day.

Sergei hasn't yet come to see me today, for which I'm grateful. Facing him after what he did to my body last night would be mortifying.

Ksenia comes in to deliver breakfast and then lunch, both decadent meals. I discover every nook and cranny in the room in my boredom, before once again perching on the windowsill, and watching the sunset.

Attempting to hurt Sergei was a stupid, reckless move—two things I never am. I lose my wit altogether around Sergei, for whatever reason. Possibly because he's a terrifying individual with no compunctions hurting me, and that keeps me on edge. Puts a barrier on my logical thinking. In plain terms, he's fucking dangerous to me beyond just physically.

Trying to injure, let alone assassinate, him will get me nowhere but hurt. Something about hearing him compare us as people drove me over an edge I wasn't even aware of, and to violence.

I'm so lost in thought, mulling over my unfortunate predicament, that I don't notice someone enter the room until a warm, large hand lands on my shoulder.

This morning, Ksenia brought me reasonable day clothes—a T-shirt and jeans. She also assured me that my closet will soon be stocked with a wardrobe Sergei deems appropriate. I can only guess it'll be the most revealing clothes possible.

"Watching my guards?" Sergei purrs in my ear, his hand moving to collar my throat, but not cutting off my air in the slightest.

I glance back to meet his eyes, and almost wish I hadn't. They hold a depth of possession that rattles my very soul. Sergei already considers me to be his.

I lean forward, and he drops his hand from my neck.

"What am I doing here?" I ask him. "Why did you take me with you?"

His lips twitch. "I think you already know," he murmurs. "The people I deal with are dull. Boring. Predictable. You are none of those things—you're invigorating. Enlivening. A breath of fresh air."

I blink slowly, his words hitting with the impact of a sledgehammer. I was right, he wants me on a...permanent basis.

I turn to look at him, lifting my chin and squaring my shoulders. "You should know now, Mr. Novikov, that I will never truly belong to you."

He reaches forward, and runs a thumb along my bottom lip. "Call me by my name," he demands, and I register that the impersonal way I address him truly rankles him. He wants to be personal with me.

When I don't respond, merely watching him, a glint of irritation flickers across his features. Instead of lashing out, however, he offers me a surprisingly magnanimous smile.

"Come," he commands, and then starts for the bathroom.

I feel my brows draw together. He couldn't be intending to...bathe me, could he? If his goal is to get close to me, he might rationalize that bathing me would be a step towards achieving that.

When he reaches the bathroom door, he casts a glance at me, frowning slightly. He's unused to not having his every order instantly obeyed.

"Do you want a repeat of last night?" he asks, almost pleasantly.