|Alysanne Valentine|
Azarov annihilated me and surely the ending isn't what you would expect. Those innocent small gestures he displayed made me feel warm and surprisingly protected, his reassurance in the limo made my heart leap into my throat. Those three words were filled with promise and determination that it made my chest constrict from the overwhelming emotions flooding me. Coming from Azarov, a man who chooses his words wisely it made me trust that promise in a way I would never do for others.
The meeting was scheduled and I wasnt particularly invested in it since Azarov's safety is my priority. A deal pertaining to the future endeavours of Azarov and Carter which didn't require the presence of Diavolo and Isadora.
However, my best friend had been hiding something from me. She had something up her sleeve and I couldn't figure out what it was. That was the least of my problems. The times that I have been around Azarov, he never interacted with women that weren't involved with the family— to my knowledge anyway. I never appreciated the rellef I felt during those times because even if he sort out to sedate his desires elsewhere, I was glad he didn't flaunt the women in my face. It was a fantasy to believe that men would be celibate and Azarov with his God-like appearance, sculptured -to perfection body masked by his sinful dark suits is mouth-watering and downright dangerous.
He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire existence. God played favourites when he was creating us and his is Azarov. A fraction of my jealousy mind pretends that his sex life is non-existent because the thought is nauseating.
I prided myself on self-control, it came rather easy to me since my Uncle is always calm that it's borderline terrifying. Anger wasn't a part of my vocabulary until that night when I had to suffer through gorgeous women dressed in fabulous lingerie dance on him, touch him. Mind-numbing rage devoured my insides, eating away at my flesh. I felt it shake my bones and cause this insatiable itch to kill. I was livid and Azarov was calm and collected. He never physically reacted to their touches but I did with fierce annoyance. His maple syrup orbs darkened when they connected with my own, they were filled with hunger and desire. I couldn't concentrate, fuming over them touching what is mine.
WAIT, WHAT?!
Nope.
Fuck it.
He's mine!
I was way beyond the point of sane anger.
Mine is bitter jealousy. Neither would I apologise about how territorial it sounded because Azarov didn't seem bothered by the sight of me watching these women touch him in places I wanted to. Azarov challenged my temper and restraint, when the glass shattered in my hand I recognised that I was going to blow this roof off if I didn't leave. Call me petty but he needed to feel what I felt. I wanted to provoke him regardless if It seemed childish. Pulling two random guys from the crowd to dance with me, they probably introduced themselves but I didn't care.
Clearing my mind and focusing on replacing there touch with Azarov was the only way I could stomach there body against my own. Even if I had a strong urge to bleach my skin after this.
It's like a sixth sense— being able to pinpoint the exact moment his eyes meet my body. No matter the distance it still evoked goosebumps and automatically a thrilling sensation would swarm through me. I couldn't predict that he would abandon all logic from his composed mind and throw me over his shoulder like a madden beast.
And I couldn't deny that I found it insanely sexy. Azarov snapped, acting irrationally as he trapped us in the elevator and I couldn't control the ache that only surfaced when it came to him. Usually dominance from anyone would rekindle those horrors of the past but with Azarov, I felt comfortable and it frightened me that he had the power to rid the demons of my past. His calm personality is shaken with this beast fuelled with frustration and I loved it, he needed to taste the bitterness of jealousy the same way I did.
Then he kissed me.
And we exploded.
It felt like hell filled with fireworks. Overwhelming my senses and demolishing that barrier I had in place. My mind was supposed to be clear but instead it became fogged with desire and lust for him— only him. Those soft lips are otherworldly with mystical powers that manage to make me weak in the knees, leaving me drunk on his kisses. The touch of his hard hands and solid body against my owm is driving me into oblivion, I willing submitted to him without a challenge because the delicious taste of whiskey accompanied by the hint of mint gum permanently sent me into an abyss of passion. It's addictive and his feverish touches made me want to be consumed by him.
We went berserk, I was greedy tor more of him as his lips captured my nipples and sucked like I was his favourite taste and when his hand drifted to run through my pussy lips I could have sworn I saw stars When his thick fingers entered me, I wouldn't have even cared if people walked in on us because all I wanted was for them to stay inside of me forever. That euphoric sensation rattled my bones and shattered my sensibility. I felt alive for the first time and I have never been wetter in my entire life.
Azarov knew how to work his skillful fingers inside of me as if he had always been acquainted with my body. Playing my body, bending it into submission. He worked my clit with eagerness and I shattered into a million pleces from that intense orgasm. That wasn't the best part, when he tasted me on his fingers and groaned deeply resembling a growl of a beast, I got wet all over again by the mere sound.
Carter had to ruin the moment and usually my bloodlust isn't as barbaric as Isadora's but in that moment I would have siven anything to slit his voice box to permanently shut him up. Azarov blinked slowly and became calm once again. Straightening out his suit jacket and facing away from me, apologizing for his lack of control and snapped back into business mode. He didn't look at me after that, Diavolo and Isadora had mischievous grins plastered on their faces and I knew they saw what happened. Thankfully they didn't comment since Azarov and I were on opposite ends of the spectrum now.
Which leads us to the two days later and it's quite obvious that we were avoiding each other. I couldn't find myself to ashamed by what happened, only terrified that Azarov could easily own my body and I wouldn't even put up a fight because I desperately wanted him.
My reasons revolved around my past but what about Azarov?
Did he regret It? Did he feel like he was disrespecting his wife? The overflow of questions played around in my brain establishing that my relationship with Azarov is indeed complicated.
The only place that surpresses the anxiety creeping upon me is the library, anything involving books really.
Azarov's personal library is stacked with selections varying from facts to fiction. Apparently, I couldn't quite escape him since I was drawn to a Greek Mythology book that low-and-behold involved Aphrodite, Adonis and Persephone. They describe Adonis as an astonishingly handsome man and that's the second correlation to this life. This caused Aphrodite and Persephone to feud over him, Zeus however declared that he spend one third of the year with Aphrodite, the other third with Persephone and the last third with whomever he chooses. He chose to spend it with Aphrodite and even though this doesn't pertain to my life I silently hoped Azarov would choose me but that would be selfish if his wife is his first love.
Could I share him the way they did? Was I capable of accepting that his love would only be reserved for his wife?
A honeyed voice pulled me out of thoughts, "Greek mythology? Seems fitting since you're also the goddess of beauty."
Even though I have only heard his voice a maximum of three times, I recognised the husky-deep silvery tone and didn't bother to lift my head from the pages.
"Whatever game you are playing, Sinnius. It's not going to work."
He let out a deep chuckle, "It seems you get cranky when you are in a fight with my brother." He mused with a grin.
Releasing an agonising breath, connecting my eyes with his golden orbs swirling with rage. It's a mask with that firtatious grin, I awaited the moment he would slip for a second and showcase the truth but he mastered his mask. The midnight blue dressed shirt clung to his muscles like second skin that you could see the outline of his abs and trace the ridges along his biceps. Dark slacks that gripped his thighs tightly with the addition of ink peeking through the five buttons undone. The dark chocolate waves that are dishevelled and the smooth cut of his jaw isn't tainted by the smoke of a cigarette. However, that devilish smirk told a different story.
"Who told you that we're fighting?" He swiped his thumb over his bottom lip then tugged on it, hooded eyes filled with mischievous.
"It's quite easy to pick up that something went down with you two since you guys are avoiding each other."
I wasn't in the best mood and revisiting these issues with Sinnius wasn't on my list of things to do today. Placing the book back into its slot, I turned my back to leave.
"I'm not playing this game with you." I flatly stated.
Sinnius let out a husky laugh, "I'm not playing any games with you, pretty."
I could practically hear the undertone jab in his plummy toned voice, "I'm not going to assist you in tormenting Azarov." I snarled, attempting to leave.
That wasn't going to happen anytime soon. It's admirable.
"The way you protect him without even knowing his full story," he praised.
Turning around to give him a piece of my mind, I was seemingly halted by the thick beige folder outstretched in his hand towards me. Raising my brow in question to what it is.
"If you wish to know about his past then you should take a look at this." he finished, holding it out for me to grasp.
After a minute of staring at him and the folder, Sinnius wiggled it infront of me like a dog treat with a wicked smile across his lips. "My little brother's past. Every detail he holds back from you." Sinnius tempted.
The answer was simple. Shaking my head, pushing the folder closer towards him. "No."
That answer captured his attention and caused his brows to furrow in confusion.
"Why not? Aren't you the least bit cutious to know the answers to all your burning questions?"
"Azarov has chosen not to share his past with me and I respect that I won't dig into something he wishes to keep private" I vow.
Raising his brow, "And what it he's never ready?" Sinnius quizzed.
"Then, the past remains in the past." I reassure.
Sinnius was staring at me with fascination, trying to decipher the deception behind my words because he didn't seem like the type that would trust easily, suddenly that charming smile stretched upon his cherry lips.
"I'm sorry."
Rolling my eyes at his honeyed apology, "I don't care for your apologies."
My words didn't quite affect him. However, he did awkwardly scratch the back of his neck with a unsure smile upon his lips, like he was embarrassed.
"I agree that my approaches aren't the best and apparently I can't charm my way into your sweet little heart." Sinnius reckoned.
"You really are different from her. She would have jumped at the opportunity to dig into all the things he has been up to." He clarifies, making the past somewhat clearer.
Although that statement made me realise that his wife and I somehow were different. I decided that this conversation didn't need to continue, "Goodbye, Sinn."
"Okay, wait! Wait! At least give this a read."
Sinnius called as he ran over to the last alsle of books and bent his knees as he scanned the last shelf. He counted and suddenly pulled out a leather chocolate brown book coated with dust, blowing away the excess. Jogging over towards me, he handed over the book and I realised that it had no name or cover. It's a simple plain book.
"What's this?"
Shoving his hands into his pants pocket, "My journal from years ago," he proudly states as he puffs out his chest.
"Okay, why are you giving this to me?"
He shrugged his shoulders as if to brush his vulnerablity, towering over me with a certain intensity licking his eyes.
"I guess I want you to know my past. Well, a part of me you would have like."
———
A/N: Every date lies on different years. Sinnius didn't included the dates of each year, for it felt like thorns for him to even reminisce about the past.
———
Date: 26 July
They always say parents love is unconditional but I think mines have a limit. They don't love but they like you for certain amount of time and that's how much affection you will get for the year. I mean I shouldn't want there attention, I'm supposed to be a man according to father.
Let's be real, if love existed, it didn't exist in this house. Even at twelve years old I knew the truth.
Dad continues to scold me, always telling me that I'm weak and should be more like Azarov. I'm the oldest yet he says I behave like a little girl just because I don't have the stomach to watch all the torture sessions like my brother.
I thought that when I got a brother it would be fun, we would play together and become friends like in the movies.
That isn't the case, Azarov and I don't talk, I don't blame him but at the same time I do.
It's dad's fault but I thought Azarov would at least put in the effort. Mom got the easy way out. I mean It's still surprising that she even lasted thls long with him.
She thought that once she had a child, dad would be different and change his ways. But that didn't happen. One wasn't enough so she tried again since dad never let her out of his sight, resulting in Azarov. The difference was obvious, he was happier with Azarov in his life.
The pride and joy of the family is Azarov.
Even mom forgot about me and somehow I became fine with that. But dad became more invested in Azarov when he turned five. He said the tradition of making him all through all the tortures. I started crying and throw up within a minute during my time, Azarov didn't, he didn't react at all.
That's what made my father love him more than anything,
When mom found out, that broke her. She left during one of dad's trips. She left Azarov and I, spitting in our faces that she sees us as monsters and not her children anymore. Funny isn't it? My dad called me a failure while my mother called me unworthy.
Azarov and I don't even talk, we are strangers under the same roof.
I don't hate him. I mean he's my brother. But I envy him, the monster he is, the way he is able to detach from everything without a care.
Date: 01 November
Turning 15 should have been a big thing but after all these years, I know to never get my hopes up. Azarov is 13 and my dad took him to Monaco for his birthday, he didn't even bother to invite me.
He just said, "I'm taking your brother to Monaco. Don't burn down my house, boy."
Anyone would be happy to be alone. They would invite some friends over and have a big party. I don't have friends, I don't have confidence, I don't have anything but haunting thoughts.
Then I saw her.
Dirty blonde hair and sparkling metallic eyes with hues of blue. She was magical, a precious diamond. She was quite young, around twelve but I never saw anyone so beautiful in my entire life. She is graceful and funny, so full of energy when she plays outside in the garden. I don't know how to approach her, I mean it's going to look weird.
The only thing I can do is watch her twirl like a ballerina in the flower garden, someone like her would never go for me.
Date: 20 August
The day I finally died inside.
My life is agony.
It's my own personal hell.
It's seems that I was born for the purpose of being a punching bag for everyone else. All my life it's been the same story, everything revolving around Azarov. He was the center of my mother's universe, my father's and now hers.
Even with my father gone, I belleve he is fucking looking up from hell. Proud of his
son.
He always gets everything he wants and it's not fair. He doesn't deserve her. He's a monster and she's a princess, it doesn't work that way. I should have known Azarov didn't care about anyone but himself. He is selfish, he takes and takes until there is nothing left.
"He is a true man." According to my dead asshole father. Azarov is getting everything and dad decided that what he would leave his son is half of this tormented house.
Why would I want half of the place that made me feel unworthy and alone since I was born?
I can't keep living like this, in his shadow.
Everything is about Azarov and I thought just for once the princess would want me. I cannot accept this, he takes everything from me. I swore to never hate him but I fucking do.
When I left they didn't notice.
Because no one cares about me.
And I finally don't care.
We all suffer from a dark past.
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