Unable to fight back a moan at the memory, my hand slipped down my soapy body to where I needed it the most. My fingers ran across my clit and I cried out at how badly I needed release, too. The memory alone of his grunts and rumbled growls brought me to the edge. My back braced against the wall as I circled my fingers faster and faster, long moans slipping from my mouth. Then when I imagined him staring in my eyes as his jaw clenched, he roared and came, white streams of his cum in contrast with the olive tone of his stomach. I cried out as pure pleasure ripped through me. My body curled inward at the force of how strong I came, gasping for breath in the aftermath.
Standing under the heavy spray of the water, I washed away the wetness that was coating my inner thighs. I jumped out, toweling myself off.
As I lay on my bed, a wave of shame took hold. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling like I was betraying my own blood. What would my father say if he knew what I’d just done with the enemy?
But no matter how hard I despaired, I couldn’t seem to regret Zaal.
I wanted him.
But I knew I couldn’t go down there again. I owed it to my family.
In ten minutes I’d dried my hair and crawled into my bed. I just wanted to curl up and forget it all for a while.
As soon as I pressed my cheek against my palm searching for sleep, the memory of Zaal doing the same stirred a need in my body, a need for him.
Lifting my hand to my laptop on the dresser, I pulled it open to find my guards had reattached the surveillance feed. I fell into a fitful sleep watching a now-clean Zaal sleeping deeply.
His usually pain-riddled face now expressed nothing but peace.
Chapter Eight
Talia
I didn’t leave my bedroom all day. In fact, I never even left my bed. I’d forced myself to stay away from the basement. I’d forced my self to stay locked the fuck away, period. I’d forced myself to fight my instinct to run to Zaal.
I’d tossed and turned all last night, memories of my babushka plaguing my dreams, filling me with guilt. Memories of her stroking my hair as I fell asleep as a child, telling me about how she met her true love …“I was only a child really, Talia. But one look at your grandfather and I knew. I knew he was my soul’s other half.”
“You did?” I whispered in awe.
Babushka smiled. “I did. It was his eyes. He had the kindest of brown eyes.” Babushka huffed a laugh. “Of course, I knew who he was. He was a Tolstoi, every Russian knew the Volkov Bratva, but I remember seeing those eyes and knowing that as violent as his life was, he was not.” I watched as Babushka’s eyes filled with water and my stomach sank. She missed my grandfather so much. I could see the racking pain in her eyes.
“Babushka?” I whispered and she pulled me closer into her side.
“Your dedushka was my life, Talia,” she said in a sad voice, “And one day, a man will enter your life and you will know, without a doubt, that he is yours. I can’t explain it, but something will snap within you and from that day forth, you’ll be his and he’ll be yours.”
I smiled against my babushka’s chest, and echoed, “I’ll be his and he’ll be mine.”
“A good Russian boy. A man from our way of life. A man your papa will approve of, will welcome into the Bratva to stand but his side. A man your family will be proud to have as their son.”
“I can’t wait,” I said excitedly, and closed my eyes, trying to imagine what my true love would be like. I smiled further just picturing my father shaking my love’s hand, with a proud and happy smile on his face, my heart full with the knowledge that I’d chosen my true love well …
I blinked fast, trying to chase the tears from my eyes. Trying to swallow back the nausea creeping up my throat. But Babushka’s words stabbed at my brain. I can’t explain it, but something will snap within you and you’ll be his and he’ll be yours. My heart beat at a furious rate as Zaal’s face flashed in my mind and, at that one simple thought, my heart swelled and filled with warmth.
Something within me had snapped.
The minute my hand had touched Zaal’s skin, and those jade eyes had seared mine, I knew something within me had fundamentally changed.
Sighing in shame, I gripped the comforter in my hands and fought back my tears.
Why him? Anybody but fucking him!
You can’t do this, Talia. You can’t have him. You can’t want him like this! I scolded myself as I jumped from my bed, unable to sit in this goddamn room any longer, hiding, shying away from the overwhelming pull to the man in the basement. I showered and dressed, all the time replaying last night’s dream in my head. I thought of Babushka and guilt took its firm hold. She would be so ashamed of me. Me! Her favorite. I knew I was letting her down. And I couldn’t fucking bear letting her down.