Page 53 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

INDIGO

The door clicks shut behind him. Anatoly stands there, his bloody hands hanging at his sides, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

"It's done," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I killed Grant Bennet."

Something inside me snaps, and my tongue finally comes unglued from the roof of my mouth. "You had no right to do that."

His eyes narrow dangerously. "I'm tired of people telling me I have no right to do this or that. The bratva, my mother, Roma..." His voice rises with each word.

And just like that, my own rage ignites, hot and indignant. "You're tired of people telling you what you can and can't do? What about me? Did you ever think about that?"

"Everything I've done has been for you," he growls.

"No," I shake my head violently. "You don't get to decide what justice looks like for me. You don't get to hurt people and use me as an excuse for it."

"As far as I'm concerned," he says, "I have every right to hurt the people who hurt you."

"No, you don't!" I scream, my voice breaking.

"He raped you!" Anatoly bellows. "He put his fucking hands on you. Put his fucking baby in you and then forced you to an abortion to hide his guilt! Do you really think I'll just allow him to live?"

"And do you think telling me about my past justifies what you've done?"

His words slice through me like knives, ripping open wounds I've spent two years trying to close. I wrap my arms protectively around my middle, where another baby now grows.

I want to throw it in his face. That he's done the same thing, put his baby inside me too. But it's not the same, is it?

I chose this.

I begged for him.

I willingly let him inside me, over and over, with no protection.

And there's still his mother's threat. If I tell him about that along with the baby, then he'll do whatever it takes to keep me safe.

He'll rip his own family apart for me, and when the weight of his actions crushes him, I'll have to be the one to pick up the pieces.

Just like I did before.

I draw in a shaky breath and meet his gaze directly.

"Does it make you feel powerful?" I ask, my voice low but steady. "Killing the man who raped me? Does that cement your ownership over me?"

His eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard.

"Does murdering him somehow undo all the awful things that happened because of that one terrible moment?" I continue, gaining momentum. "Is that how you define who I am to you? A victim that needed your saving?"

"I was trying to—"

"You don't get to make these decisions for me," I cut him off. "You've forced me to relive those awful moments all over again."

Anatoly's jaw clenches. "I gave you closure!"

"YOU TOOK MY CHOICES AWAY FROM ME!" I scream, my voice tearing from my throat. "YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT THAN HIM!"

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and poisonous. Something shifts in Anatoly's eyes, and darkness start gathering there like storm clouds.

"You don't mean that, printsessa," he says quietly, taking a step toward me.

I say nothing, my chest heaving.

"Do you really think I'm no different than Grant Bennet?" His voice is dangerously soft now as he takes another step closer.

I press my lips together, refusing to speak, refusing to take it back even though fear is creeping up my spine.

"Answer me," he demands, moving closer still.

I back away, matching each of his steps with one of my own. My heart hammers against my ribs as I retreat, knowing I have nowhere to go. His presence fills the room, threatening to suffocate me.

I keep backing up until my back hits the wall.

Anatoly plants his hands on either side of my head, caging me against the wall. His body is so close I can feel the heat radiating from him, smell the metallic tang of blood still clinging to him.

And I can feel my own desire for him slowly awakening.

He's the hottest fucking thing in the world right now.

"You think I'm taking your choices away?" he asks, his voice dangerously soft. "Tell me, Indigo. Did you never once think about taking vengeance on Grant Bennet yourself?"

I swallow hard, saying nothing.

"Is there not a part of you that was happy when you heard he was dead?" He leans closer, his breath fanning across my face. "Did this not feel like justice? Tell me the truth."

My lower lip trembles as I struggle to maintain my composure.

He's right.

This did feel like justice. This was something that I wanted for two years.

He did bring me closure in knowing that Grant Bennet will never hurt anyone else again. There is justice in the brutal way he died.

But I can't let those words out. Because if I do, then the part of me that I've always thought of as good will die.

God help me, Anatoly is a monster.

But he's my monster. The one who did what no one else can do.

And I fucking love him for it.

The realization crashes through me like a tidal wave. I close my eyes, unable to look at him as tears slide down my cheeks.

"If you really think I didn't do this for you." His voice drops to a whisper. "Then say it. But you wanted this, didn't you?"

My body finally betrays me.

And I nod.

He leans in even closer until his lips are close enough to kiss away my tears. "I thought so," he murmurs against my skin.

"I hate you," I whisper, the words barely audible.

"No you don't."

And he's right. I don't. But admitting that means committing fully to him, and becoming completely his. It means losing myself in whatever this dangerous thing between us is.

Forever.

So I lie to him again, my voice stronger this time: "I hate you."

Anatoly's bloody hand gently takes mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. The crimson stains of Bennet's blood transfer onto my skin and marks me as his accomplice.

"You don't hate me," he says, his voice soft yet certain.

Tears continue to stream down my face, hot and relentless. I know he's right. God, I know he's right.

But I can't stop lying as I repeat those words. "I hate you."

I say it again, and again, and again until my voice breaks with each repetition.

But I don’t stop. I keep repeating it like a curse and a prayer at the same time. As if saying it enough times will somehow make it true.

As if I can force my heart to feel what my mind tells me is the right thing someone like me is supposed to do.

But what even is right in this world anymore?

Despite my words, I press closer to him, seeking his warmth and his strength. The heat radiating off his body calls to something primal inside me. Something I've tried to bury but can't.

I'm just as fucked-up as he is. And I don’t want to change a fucking thing about it.

Without warning, Anatoly crushes his mouth against mine in a dark and hungry kiss. I rise eagerly to meet it and part my lips for him to let his tongue sweep into my mouth.

I want to open myself up to him completely. To let him claim me in every way a man can claim a woman.

I want to surrender everything to him.

I want him and only him.

He presses even closer, his body hard against mine, and my heart races. Oh God, I missed this. Missed him. My free hand moves forward, tugging impatiently at his pants, desperate to free him.

His hand finds the zipper of my jeans, and in one smooth motion, he tugs them down with the same urgent need as me. Our pants puddle on the floor beneath us at the same time and I gasp at the sudden exposure.

When his bloody hand grasps me by my thigh and lift it until I'm completely exposed to him, a lusty moan escapes my lips.

I grasp his cock, finding it hard and throbbing in my hand. The tip is already slick with precum, and I give it a slow stroke up and down.

I want him inside of me.

I need him inside of me.

He breaks the kiss for just a moment, his breath hot against my lips.

"Tell me that you don't want this," he whispers. "And I'll walk away."

I look into his eyes, and see myself reflected in the eyes of the man who killed for me.

Who would burn down this world for me.

"Fuck you," I whisper back.

Then I pull him inside me, rocking my hips forward until he's buried to the hilt.

I relish the feel of his blood on my skin as our bodies collide. The sticky crimson of Bennet's demise marks us both now, binding us together in this violent act of passion.

"I hate you," I whisper against his mouth, feeling the lie burn my tongue. "I hate you."

Each word spurs him on, his rhythm growing more frantic, more desperate. The grip of his bloody hand on my thigh tightens, leaving smeared crimson fingerprints beneath his searing hot touch.

Anatoly silences me with another kiss, swallowing the words I don't mean. Tears stream down my face. Salty wetness seeps between our lips as I cry into his mouth. He consumes my sobs, my moans, and my lies. He takes everything I have to give and demands more.

My hips move with reckless abandon, slamming against him. Each movement goads him forward, making him thrust deeper, harder.

This is everything I wanted. Everything I craved since the moment I first saw him in that barbershop chair.

I keep fucking him, but it's becoming harder and harder to tell who's doing the fucking and who's being fucked.

Because every time I pull back, Anatoly thrusts forward in perfect sync. And when I retreat, he advances.

In. Out.

One of his hands pins my wrist above my head against the wall, the other holds my hip in place. It feels wonderful. Being restrained. Being taken. Being claimed.

Over and over.

In. Out.

Our pace quickens to a brutal one, and I try to wrench my mouth away from his so I can scream out my pleasure. But he doesn't let me go, and keeps me trapped in our kiss.

In. Out.

Finally, I bite down on his lip, hard. And he snarls like a wounded animal. I tear my mouth away from his, tasting his blood on my lips, and scream.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Look at me!" he commands, and I do.

In. Out.

I stare into his eyes and it's fucking intense. I whisper it again. "Fuck you!"

This drives him over the edge, and he fucks me hard against the wall. In. Out. I start screaming as I give control over to him.

"YES! YES! YES!"

Anatoly pushes me harder against the wall and buries himself completely inside me. His grip on my wrist tightens as he thrusts one final time and his entire body goes rigid.

Then, I feel it.

The hot familiar pulse of his cock deep inside of me as he fills me up with his cum.

"Printsessa," he growls against my neck, his voice ragged and broken.

My own orgasm hovers at the edge, ready to crash over me in waves. But I bite my lip hard, forcing it back.

No. I'm not finished with him. Not by a fucking long shot.

I won't let this be over so quickly.

I clench around him deliberately, milking every drop as his forehead falls against my shoulder, his breath coming in ragged pants.

"Mine," he whispers, his grip on my hip loosening slightly as the aftershocks of his release ripple through him.

I don't respond. Instead, I push against his chest, forcing him to take a step back. His eyes widen slightly at my defiance, pupils still blown with lust despite his recent climax. He's still inside me, half-hard and sensitive.

My hand finds his jaw, fingers digging into his cheek as I pull his face closer to mine. I roll my hips slowly and deliberately to feel him twitch inside me. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation against his oversensitive flesh.

"Look at me," I command, throwing his words back at him.

His piercing blue eyes snap open, surprise evident in them. I've never taken control like this before. I've fought him, yes. Challenged him, absolutely. But I've never commanded him.

I rotate my hips again, watching his expression change as pleasure overtakes him once more. I won't let him pull away. I won't let him retreat.

"We're not fucking done," I whisper against his lips.

With his cock still inside me, I push against his chest, forcing him away from the wall. He stumbles backward, his eyes wide with surprise as I advance on him, never breaking our connection.

He stumbles and then falls to the floor, and I follow him down, impaling myself on his rock-hard cock.

I waste no time to grab both his bloody hands and pin them above his head.

"My turn," I whisper, bring my hips all the way up until the head of his cock is nearly out of my pussy before I come crashing back down.

Then I start riding him mercilessly, my pace punishing and relentless. His eyes roll back, mouth falling open as he cries out in pleasure. The sound sends a surge of power through me—the almighty pakhan at my mercy.

"Did it feel good?" I demand, my voice ragged. "Killing Bennet for me. Did it feel good?"

His eyes lock with mine, unflinching. "Yes."

I increase my pace, bouncing harder on his cock, and feeling him hit deeper inside me with each thrust.

"And you like it, don't you?" I pant, digging my nails into his wrists. "When you hurt people for me. You fucking love it."

"Yes," he growls, hips bucking up to meet mine.

I set my own brutal pace now, fucking him on the floor as hard as he was fucking me against the wall. In. Out. Sweat rolls down my spine and my thighs burn with the effort.

"Why?" I demand, slamming down onto him. "Why do you like it?"

His eyes are wild and feral.

"Because you're my wife," he snarls. "And I'd do anything for you. I'll kill for you. I'll hurt for you. I'll destroy for you." His voice drops lower, deadlier. "It doesn't matter what. Doesn't matter where. Doesn't matter who."

I release his hands and lean down to bite his shoulder and his neck. I mark him with my teeth the way he's marked me with his hands. His freed hands fist in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat.

He retaliates, teeth scraping along my neck before biting down hard enough to make me yelp. In. Out.

I welcome the pain.

Because when I hurt, I don't feel guilty.

"Yes! Yes! Oh fuck yes!" I scream, completely lost in sensation. "Fuck me! FUCK ME!"

The orgasm hits me like a freight train, and my entire body convulses as I come harder than I ever have before. The force of it is so powerful that I fly off his cock, and I feel his hot cum splashing against my sore pussy, my ass, and my back.

His hands release my hair as he throws his head back in a low moan.

But instead of staying here, I push myself up off him to my feet, run into the bathroom, and slam the door shut behind me.