Page 14 of Darkest Craving

VICTORIA

A wedding dress should be the most beautiful thing a woman wears in her life. But as I stare down at my hands resting in my lap, all I can think of is the anger, the rage I’m feeling inside. And the cage I’m about to walk into willingly, chaining me to the monster I’ve known for the past two weeks.

White drapes over my opened palms, creasing gently between my fingers.

Cool and smooth, the fabric of my gown stares back at me with as much disbelief as I’m offering it. It’s light, as if it holds no weight at all. It molds to my breasts, my torso, and my hips, then flows in thin, delicate waves of silk and lace, filling the space in the backseat of Wolfgang’s car.

He hasn’t seen me yet, and I don’t even know where his men are taking me right now. Are the Rykovs religious? Will he want to marry me in a church?

I snort at the thought. He’d probably burn alive within seconds of setting foot in a holy place.

But to my surprise, the car comes to a stop in front of a large church with a golden dome, passing dozens of other high-end cars.

I swipe my thumb across the silk and lace, and my breath hitches as I do my best to block out the pain threatening to burst out of me through tears.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Not today. Not when everyone will be there to witness it. A hard task, given the way this damned ruby necklace constantly reminds me of the day he ripped my dreams from me like they meant nothing. He made me wear it again.

The door opens to my right, and I swallow hard.

“Miss Romanov,” Ivan says, extending his hand to me.

Ignoring it, I clutch the sides of my dress and, as graciously as I can, step outside.

Tilting my head back, I take in the building before me, then look back to see if I’m being watched at all. And sure enough, my soon-to-be-husband’s men are right there, like an impenetrable wall between me and my freedom, waiting for me to walk. It becomes clear no one will lead me down the aisle.

Not my father. Not Sasha.

I’ll offer myself to him like a fucking sacrifice.

“He’s waiting for you. Everyone is,” Ivan says somewhat gently.

I bite my lip to stop it from quivering. “Just… give me a goddamn minute!”

Nodding, he steps back and lets me have it. All I allow myself is another deep breath before my feet move on their own accord and the church balms and incense welcome me inside.

WOLFGANG

She didn’t run.

Like a porcelain doll, flawless and void of any emotion on her pretty face, Victoria walks down the aisle toward me between the sea of people I’ve invited to witness her family’s humiliation.

My father and the rest of our family sit at the front, watching her like hawks. Taking her in for the first time.

If I tore my eyes away from my bride, I know I’d be able to see Ekaterina’s displeasure all over her face—the loathing in those green, elongated eyes, the permanent grimace on her narrow mouth.

She was the only one who opposed this marriage, like she always opposes everything I do.

But my wife is a sight to behold, and I bet it pisses her off so much she’s practically boiling inside. The thought of my step-mother standing there, with her perfect makeup and her designer clothes clinging to her tense body almost makes me laugh.

All our allies are here, too, filling most of the pews.

And there, alone and cornered by everyone loyal to us, sits Victoria’s traitorous family—Nikolai Romanov, his wife, and their eldest daughter.

Both women look miserable, like they’re about to burst into tears at any moment.

Good. They didn’t lift a finger to help Victoria when she needed it most—not that it would’ve changed the outcome, obviously.

But now, I have no intention of protecting them.

It’s been a long time coming, and the whole thing is even more satisfying than I imagined.

I keep my eyes trained ahead, seeing how my wife's dress molds to her hourglass figure and flows gracefully along her hips. The red diamonds of her necklace gleam under the sunlight seeping in through the windows. A beautiful, perfect collar for her.

When Victoria approaches, I see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes before she blinks, and they’re gone. I extend my hand toward her and pull her in, jerking her a little on purpose. They need to see this wedding for what it is—that I’m only doing it to prove a point.

I turn to face the priest and feel her shifting next to me, doing the same.

“We’re gathered here today to witness the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” he says, followed by drawing the cross sign in the air.

He knows better than to prolong this ceremony for longer than it needs to be.

Which is why I’m glad when he skips ahead and asks, “Do you, Wolfgang, take Victoria to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and protect her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Victoria, take Wolfgang to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and obey until you give your last breath?”

She clears her voice but keeps silent. What does she think she’ll accomplish by delaying it? Her submission is inevitable.

“I meant what I said,” she whispers so that only I can hear. “I will never love you, Wolfgang. And the only vow I can make you is that you will regret this day.”

No, I won’t.

“Victoria—”

“I do,” she says, loud and clear. As if she’s proud to announce it to the whole fucking world. Or… as if she thinks she has the upper hand. Wouldn’t surprise me.

I knew letting Sasha come and talk to her would lead to this. But if she thinks she has any chance of ever winning against me, she’s greatly mistaken.

Ivan approaches with the rings, and we put them on. Despite all her defiance, her slender hand still trembles, and I tighten my hold on it to calm her down.

She should know by now I wouldn’t hurt her. She’s just a pawn in this game, and now that she has my name, I will protect her with my life. As I would do for anyone else who had it.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I step into her, closing the distance between us.

Bringing my hand to the back of her head, I dig my fingers into her hair and expose her neck, keeping her in place as I look down to see her skin throb under her racing pulse.

Then I simply lower myself to her and pry her lips open with mine for everyone to see. She’s mine.

My tongue finds hers—sweet, delicate, and velvety—and I have to actively stop myself from groaning because my cock is already fucking hard.

She pushes into my chest, wanting to break free. But I don’t fail to notice the little whimpers she lets out before she, too, realizes she’s supposed to keep those to herself.

When I pull away, she stays still, showing me she stopped fighting. And I don’t want to, I swear I fucking don’t, but something makes me need to praise her for it. To teach her what I want more of. I keep my fingers in her hair and break the silence of the church.

“Good girl, Victoria. I’ll make sure to reward you some more later, in our bed.”

I grab her hand, and she gasps softly, but keeps her head high as I take us back up the aisle.

Congratulations reach my ears, but they’re not aimed at the marriage itself. Everybody here sees this as a power move, and they all know the worst is yet to come to the traitors sitting in the pews who, by the way, don’t get up to see us off like the rest.

It doesn’t even matter, though this is probably their last chance to see Victoria ever again.

We’re almost out when suddenly, my wife’s hand goes taut, and I feel her tripping behind me. One of our men grips her arm and pulls her up forcefully.

“Get the fuck up, bitch. Keep walking.”

Anger shoots through me like fucking lava. Clenching my jaw, I make brief eye contact with my father. He shakes his head at me, anticipating my thoughts. I’m about to kill a man in a holy place.

The room falls silent.

Victoria snatches her arm free of the man’s grip and steps beside me, avoiding my gaze, looking distressed.

The red marks on her skin will probably form a bruise. So I pull out my gun from beneath my jacket and bring the man into me by his collar before firing at his head.

Blood splatters on my face, the metallic scent instantly filling the air. Women’s gasps echo all around, and the priest’s dark figure dashes behind the altar.

I push the corpse off me. It falls to the floor with a thud.

“Let this be your only warning,” I say, tucking my gun back in. “I don’t care who the fuck you are or how important you think you are. If anyone, ever , touches my wife, or disrespects her, I will kill you. You will die at my hand. Do. You. Understand?”

I pin them all with my gaze, looking for any sign of disagreement on their faces. There’s none.

“What my son means to say,” Father’s voice rings from the other side of the church.

“Is that an attack on any Rykov is an attack on the Bratva. You all know very well how we deal with traitors, and unless I give an explicit order, no one interferes with our ways.” He looks at Victoria’s family.

“I took Nikolai’s daughter. And I’m about to take so much more.

Now, if you don’t want to be next in line, I suggest you keep your mouths shut and enjoy the rest of your fucking day. ”

I don’t react to Father’s statement, but I know I’ll never hear the end of what I just did. He chimed in to salvage the situation, and he succeeded, but he shouldn’t have had to do it in the first place.

My eyes slide over to Ekaterina, all pampered and dressed in black, as if she dressed for a funeral, not a wedding. She’s the only figure smirking in the crowd. Of course she’s going to take this as a fucking win.

Still, I stand by what I did.

No one touches my wife but me.