It doesn't move away. It touches the shell of the ear with its lips and warms it with hot breath.
— What then? — I whisper.
— There are reasons. They don’t concern you in any way.
Warm palms rest on the corset. Even through it, I feel their touch, as if the sun wanted to touch the night but accidentally burned everything around instead. Resentment presses, constricting my throat, but I can’t give up the sensation of burning either. Danger brings adrenaline that is already racing in my blood in anticipation... I remember how it was with him the first time...
So thoughts about him leaving, about the horrors, pain, and despair I went through because of him, are currently switched off. I turn them off because he is here, next to me, standing and embracing, leading with the tip of his perfect nose along my cheek, tickling my neck with his breath. I turn them off because he is a man, not Timur. All of that was a farce... It was necessary. Why? For now, it doesn't matter. Because right now we are here, the two of us, and I am his wife.
A sigh escapes from my throat. A sigh full of relief. Full of pain and hope, faith and dreams... or perhaps fulfilled ones?
He is my husband. Not Timur. Not that disgusting Vitaliy or anyone like him. He is.
Perhaps exhaustion, stress, and the feeling of constant fear have worn me down so much that my legs can no longer hold me. I fall into the arms of the Saint, demonstrating to him my trust. The trust that has always been nearby, reproaching me for what happened before the wedding. The trust that, despite everything, could not turn away from what was.
Vlad lifts me into his arms. Serious. He confidently strides towards the house entrance and carries me over the threshold.
— Father, — I say with fear. — He will find out.
— No, — he says confidently, carrying past the living room. — For him, you are with Timur now. Everything is as he wished. For now. Everything that follows isn’t your problem. Believe me.
We find ourselves in the bedroom. The warm white colors of the wooden furniture, floors, and curtains blend with an interesting carpet with geometric patterns and tall pots that resemble palm trees in the corners. Vlad sets me on my feet and turns off the light, leaving the nightlight on.
He examines me. A satisfied smile wanders on his lips, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. In his almost black eyes, a storm of desire swirls. Strong, uncontrollable. The feeling that I find myself in a forest, dark and dangerous, while a predator stands frozen in front of me. He knows what he wants. He has already woven his web so that the Timid Doe would fall into the trap. He knows how to paint in reality what is needed, as he practiced on canvas. And the scariest thing is that I once again fall into the same. I trust him, ready to fully open up to him, for my heart screams just that and doesn’t care about all the resentments and the blades of knives stabbed in my back. In love, foolish Julianna... A toy in the hands of the stronger. Only beneficial for achieving goals... weak and defenseless because they granted a ticket to a free life... Only this ticket has no expiration date.
Heavy breathing gives me away completely. Vlad enjoys this. He examines, slowly touching with his eyes every part of my body and face. He lingers on my lips, then my waist, and returns to the diadem.
— I would paint you just like this, — he rasps. — With wide-open eyes, plump lips, a reddish hue to your hair, in this dress. Exactly in this one, — he corrects himself.
— Did you choose it? — I whisper.
— I did.
— For me?
— For you.
The Saint takes a step forward.
— Thank you... — I whisper.
— I would lovingly portray your body, paying special attention to your lips and the glimmer in the corners of your eyes, — he continues. — So tender, timid, but at the same time with a wild desire to claim what is yours. — he purrs.
— Then paint me.
The Saint grimaces. Another step closer to me.
— Have you decided? Is this our night? — he asks firmly.
My heart pounds as if death itself is chasing me. My pulse races. His danger pulls me in, into the web, and I don’t want to escape.