Page 30 of Sweet Deception (Savage Vow #2)

But nothing changed.

On the third day, I tried asking Zoya if she could reason with him, but she only sighed, looking torn. “You know how he is.”

By the fourth day, hope began to shrivel inside me.

By the fifth, I stopped waiting by the window.

It wasn’t just the captivity, it was the knowledge that Gleb, the man who claimed to want me by his side, had done this. The realization festered like an open wound, turning every second in this house into a slow, torturous punishment.

I paced the bedroom, running my fingers through my hair, my breath coming fast and uneven. The walls felt smaller today. The air, thinner. My chest ached from the weight of my own helplessness.

The bedroom was his space. His scent clung to the sheets, his suits still hung in the closet, untouched. And yet, he hadn’t come in here once since locking me up. Not to explain. Not to check on me.

I gritted my teeth.

Fine. If he wanted to act like this, then I’d make sure he felt it.

With a sharp exhale, I grabbed the nearest lamp and yanked it off the nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound rang through the silent house, but I didn’t stop. The books on the shelf? Gone. The pillows? Tossed across the room. The framed photo on the dresser? Shattered.

If Gleb thought he could control me, he was about to see just how wrong he was.

A knock suddenly echoed through the room

“Who is it?”

“Zoya. Can I come in?”

“You may.”

She entered, her expression filled with pity. “I’m really sorry for what you’re going through.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I swear, I’m going to burn this fucking house down.”

Zoya sighed. “You’re not destructive, Anna.”

I smirked. “You don’t know me. If your husband ever locks you in his mansion, you’ll understand. Trust me.”

She hesitated. “We have a visitor.”

I arched a brow. “Gleb’s visitor?”

“Yes. Doctor Nate. He’s one of Gleb’s childhood friends. Would you like to meet him?”

My brows furrowed. “Is Gleb home?”

“Not yet. He’ll be here soon.”

I exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

At least it was something to break the monotony.

I threw on a simple white shirt and jeans, slipped on my house slippers, and tied my hair into a bun before heading downstairs.

When I entered the second living room and laid eyes on the visitor, my jaw nearly dropped.

Damn.

I expected a gruff, scarred man, one of Gleb’s usual associates. Instead, the man who looked up from his iPad had sharp blue eyes, dark blond hair, and the easy confidence of someone who knew he was good-looking.

“Anna.” He extended his hand and I took it.

He smirked. “You know, Gleb never shuts up about you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I’m sure he spends all his time complaining.”

He laughed, the sound low and easy.

He gestured to the seat beside him. “Would you mind keeping me company until Gleb arrives?”

Oh, I definitely didn’t mind.

I nodded, easing into the chair across from him.

“You said Gleb never shuts up about me?” I began, tilting my head.

He grinned, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You’re his favorite topic every time we talk.”

“Really?” My curiosity piqued. “What does he say?”

“Oh, how you’re perfect for him. How stunning you are, how he’ll wake up in the dead of night just to watch you sleep, tracing every line of your face.

How his nightmares stopped the moment you started sharing his bed.

Before you, he couldn’t escape the memories of his mother and that ex-lover of his. ” he said.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.” I’d half-expected Gleb to be mocking me behind my back, not painting me as some dreamlike savior.

“So,” he leaned forward, his smile turning dangerously charming, “has he been as good to you as he brags? Anything I should call him out on?”

I hesitated, a hum escaping my lips as I weighed my words. Should I tell him the truth, that I was a prisoner here, trapped behind these walls? Instead, I shrugged. “He can be a pain sometimes, but... he’s a good husband.”

He let out a playful huff. “Relieved to hear it.”

“What do you do with your free time?” He asked, his tone casual but curious.

“Movies, occasionally. Mostly, I lose myself in historical novels.” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Same,” he said, his expression brightening with interest. “What’s on your nightstand right now?”

“I can’t recall the title,” I admitted, “but it’s about this king whose wives keep dying after their wedding night.

The people and parliament are obsessed with an heir, and when he can’t deliver, they threaten to dethrone him.

His mother scours the land for a new bride and finds this serf, brutalized by her master and his friends, left broken in the street. ”

He raised an eyebrow. “That where you left off?”

“Yeah. Life’s been... heavy lately. Haven’t had the headspace to pick it back up.”

“I’ve read it,” he said, a glint in his eye. “Want a spoiler?”

I groaned inwardly, spoilers were the worst, but I didn’t want the conversation to die. Talking to someone new felt like a breath of air I hadn’t known I needed. “How about you narrate it instead?”

He coughed lightly, straightening with mock formality. “Then you’d better call me Nate, the Storyteller.”

I laughed despite myself. “Alright, Nate the Storyteller, weave me the rest.”

He settled back, pausing to gather the threads of the tale. “So, the king’s wives weren’t dying from some curse or disease, like the rumors claimed. He was strangling them himself, every one of them, right after bedding them.”

“What?” I gasped, leaning in.

“Yep. When Naoni, the serf, arrives, he marries her in the same rushed ceremony, planning to kill her that night, just like the others. But as he prepared to lie with her, she begs him to wait, says she’s still sore. He presses her, confused, since her mother hid the truth of her past.”

“She didn’t tell him who she was, did she?”

“She did.” Nate nodded. “And it breaks him. He collapses, sobbing, confessing he’d been raped by his stepsisters over and over when he was younger.

Couldn’t tell a soul. It twisted him, left him hating women so much he’d kill them after taking them to bed.

The throne? He never wanted it. That was his mother’s obsession. ”

“God...” I murmured, a pang of sympathy tightening my chest. “What happens next?”

“They don’t sleep together that night. Word spreads the next day that Naoni’s still alive, and people start whispering, she’s either bewitched him or she’s heaven-sent to break his curse.

For three months, he doesn’t touch her; she keeps saying she’s not healed.

Meanwhile, he tracks down her old master and his cronies, has them publicly executed, then mutilates their bodies for good measure. ”

“Now that’s justice,” I said, a fierce satisfaction curling my lips. “So, when do they finally... you know? Do they have kids?”

Nate’s smile widened. “Patience. But the king’s mother...”

The door swung open, cutting him off. We both turned as Gleb strode in, his face a storm cloud of tension. I stood instinctively, crossing to him and wrapping my arms around him like nothing was wrong. “Welcome home, husband.”

He returned the embrace stiffly before pulling back. “What were you two talking about?” His voice was low, edged with suspicion.

“Random things,” Nate replied, that playful grin still dancing on his lips.

Gleb’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk to my wife about random things.” He turned to me, sharper now. “Go inside.”

“Why?” I shot back, sinking back into the chair beside Nate, defiance sparking in my chest. Nate’s brows lifted, clearly surprised.

“The fuck,” Gleb hissed under his breath, his gaze darkening into something lethal. “Are you trying to get him killed?”

“Nate and I have a lot in common,” I said coolly. “We’re not done talking.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, just stood there, chest heaving, fists clenching at his sides. Then he surged forward, a predator closing the distance. His hands seized me, yanking me up from the chair with bruising force.

I stumbled into him, breath catching as he crushed me against his chest. His scent flooded me, smoke and leather, sharp with the tang of sweat, and then his lips were on mine, claiming me in a kiss that was more war than affection.

It was brutal, unyielding, a storm of teeth and heat.

His mouth moved over mine like he meant to devour me, to erase every word I’d shared with Nate.

I pushed against him, hands shoving at his shoulders, but he only tightened his grip, one arm locking around my waist, the other tangling in my hair to tilt my head back.

My resistance crumbled, traitorously slow, as heat licked up my spine.

I hated it, hated how my body arched into him, how my lips parted under the onslaught.

He growled into my mouth, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through me, and bit down hard on my lower lip. Pain flared, sharp and coppery, blood blooming on my tongue. I gasped, and he swallowed it, his tongue sweeping in to chase the taste.

My hands fisted in his shirt, torn between clawing him off and pulling him closer. A moan slipped free, unbidden, shameful, and his grip shifted, lifting me off my feet.

He carried me back to the chair, not breaking the kiss, and pressed me down into it with a controlled savagery.

His weight followed, heavy and unrelenting, pinning me beneath him.

The wood creaked under us, a faint protest against the force of his need.

His lips left mine only to trail along my jaw, rough and scraping, leaving a burning path.

I tilted my head back, breathless, caught in the undertow of him.

His hand slid up my side, deliberate and possessive, fingers digging into my flesh through the fabric. Then it dipped beneath my shirt, calluses rasping against my bare skin.

I flinched at the contact, a shiver racing through me, but he didn’t stop. His palm flattened over my ribs, climbing higher until it closed around my breast. The touch was bold, invasive, his thumb brushing over the peak with a roughness that made me jerk against him.

“Gleb...” His name spilled out, a broken plea or a curse, I couldn’t tell which. My fingers dug into his neck, nails biting into skin, anchoring me as my mind spun.

His breath was hot against my throat, ragged and uneven, and I felt the hard press of him against my thigh, evidence of how far he’d let this darkness take him.

“Yeah,” he rasped, voice thick with triumph and torment, his lips crashing back to mine. “That’s the only name you’ll say with that pretty little mouth.” He devoured me again, deeper this time, his hand tightening on my breast as if to brand me with his touch, to carve his claim into my bones.

A cough broke through the haze. “Uh... I’ll just wait outside.”

We froze, reality slamming back. Gleb withdrew his hand, adjusting my shirt with a quick, careful tug before standing. I scrambled up too, heat flooding my face. “I’ll leave you two to it,” I mumbled to Nate, fleeing the room before either could say another word.