Page 19 of Darkest Craving

VICTORIA

I wake to hard, muscular arms around me—half on my body, half splaying over the sheets. Charcoal sheets. Which means Wolfgang carried me back into his bedroom last night.

Why would he do that? After he made himself clear about not giving a fuck about me, it makes no sense. And yet, his hold is strong, possessive. As if he wanted to make sure I wasn’t going anywhere while he was asleep.

I try to shift, to turn around, but his hold tightens, pulling me closer to his body.

A sleepy groan rumbles from his chest. “I think you’re onto something, love,” he says. “Sleeping in is so much better than waking up when it’s still dark.”

I haven’t forgiven him. I’d like to, but since he hasn’t even apologized, he probably meant every word he said after our wedding night. So even though I see the effort he’s making to break the ice, I won’t accept it.

If you want to break an iceberg, better come prepared with more than a goddamn pickaxe.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs, enjoying your only spare moment by yourself?”

“Mmm. Normally, I would. But turns out this—with you, in our bed—is a thousand times better,” he says, sliding a warm hand under my t-shirt, splaying it across my abdomen. Butterflies spur to life beneath his touch. I hate it, so I try pushing him away.

“Maybe for you. Move over, Wolfgang. I’m getting up.”

“Victoria…”

“No, no Victoria . You were right—last night, I deserved to feel good, and I let you touch me like that. But make no mistake, I’ve never wanted you, and I still don’t. In fact, the only reason I’m with you is because I have no other choice. You’d be wise to remember that.”

For a second, his hold on me loosens, but only enough for him to flip me on my back and tower above me, hand on my throat.

I expect him to squeeze, to make me regret what I said. Part of me wants that. But his eyes shift across mine, his handsome features brightening under the morning light.

“If you want an apology…” His voice is low, laced with sleep. The roughness of it makes me press my thighs together. “I don’t do that.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. “But if you think I left that morning because I regretted it, you’re wrong. I shouldn’t have been an asshole about it.”

I snort, looking to the side and back at him.

“You’re going to have to do better than that. Get off me,” I say, wrapping my hand around the one he has on my neck. “I need coffee.”

He watches me a moment longer, as if there are still words he can’t make himself say. We wait in silence, eyes locked, until, to my surprise and disappointment, he releases me. And I get up.

***

The library floor creaks as black polished shoes walk inside.

My eyes flick upward, catching Mikhail’s silhouette, before I return to Crime and Punishment in my hands. I’m curled up on a divan sofa Ekaterina showed me during a house tour.

Other than flipping the page, I don’t make any sudden movements. I haven’t had much contact with him since the day Wolfgang introduced us, and being alone in the same room makes me feel uneasy.

Turns out he was the one who tried to scare me when I got here with his stupid whistles at night.

His mouth twitches with a subtle smirk. “So you’ve found the family treasure. I never liked that book.”

“Having trouble relating to the guilt-ridden murderer, I suppose.” I keep on reading, hoping he’ll go away if I appear disinterested.

He walks farther into the room, scanning the titles on a random shelf with his eyes. “Every man has a conscience, sis. Some are just better at ignoring it than others.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Grinning, he picks up a book, handing it to me. “Here. Your husband might enjoy this one. It’s about a man who hesitates too much and loses everything.”

I peek at the cover— Hamlet . What a bastard. I refuse to take it from his hand.

When I leave him hanging, he puts it on the table in front of me and chuckles—a clipped, knowing laugh. “You’d think someone in his position ought to try a little bit harder. But who am I to judge…”

“And what position is that, Mikhail?” I put my book face down in my lap.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he squares his shoulders, cracking his neck as he takes a dominating stance.

“That of a man fighting for a throne he’ll never sit on. Because while we might be tolerating him…” He shakes his head dismissively, “No one in this family truly wants him here.”

It’s not my fight, not my problem, but his words strike something deep in me anyway.

Heat crawls up my neck and behind my ribs, nostrils flaring above a tight, bitter smile. My fingers itch with nerves, tightening around the edges of my book like claws.

Yeah, I remember this feeling all too well.

Being unwanted. Discarded by your own, like you don’t matter. Maybe my husband and I have more in common than I thought.

“You know what I’m seeing right now, Mikhail?” I stand up. “A jealous, lesser man who wants what his brother has so badly that he doesn’t even realize how pathetic he is. I may have my own issues with Wolfgang, but at least he’s man enough not to speak badly of his family behind their back.”

“A lesser man…” Mikhail echoes, not looking upset in any capacity, but rather amused.

“And yet, I took a beating for you. It was interesting to see how much my brother cared about you even before you became his wife…” he trails off.

“Maybe, instead of jumping down my throat, you should pay closer attention to what’s really happening.

He’s about to lose everything. And it will all be your fault. ”

He laughs, and I’m stunned, at a loss for words. He took a beating for me? What does that even mean?

Why would Wolfgang do something like that?

Mikhail’s presence unsettles me, so despite my curiosity I don’t stick around to grill him for answers. Instead, I storm out, hoping he sees my anger, not my fear. But no sooner do I take a few steps when I bump into a hard chest, stopping me in my tracks.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, I—”

“Why are you running?” Wolfgang asks, looking down at me.

“I just, um…”

“What’s wrong, love?”

Behind me, the doors to the library open, and Mikhail comes out. Wolfgang’s eyes leave mine, glancing above my head. His jaw clenches, and a protective hand snakes around my waist, pulling me close.

“What did he do?” he asks, his voice thunderous.

I shake my head, sensing a fight I didn’t mean to provoke. “Nothing. We were just talking.”

“Talking,” he echoes, as if he doesn’t believe it one bit.

I take his scarred hand in mine, wanting to pull him along with me. But he isn’t budging.

“Come on. I want to go for a walk.”

“Care to tell me why my wife is upset?” he asks, glaring at Mikhail.

“I guess I recommended a book she didn’t like,” Mikhail says.

I turn, looking between the two of them, the tension so thick adrenaline shoots through me like a spring. I know how Wolfgang handles situations like this—I saw it firsthand in the church. Still, this is his brother, and that should mean something… right?

Time stretches for what seems like forever, neither of them willing to back down. Wolfgang holds me in place with his arm, so I wait, looking up at him with a frown. Hoping he’ll give in.

“Pick a better fucking book next time,” he says at last, then pulls me along.