“Do you know what happens to women who are forced to live like that? Do you realize what happens when their partners try to control them? They become a shadow of themselves. They lose all contact with the outside world and become living shells because they don't know who they are anymore, other than who their partner has convinced them they are. They become a reflection of every nasty, terrible thing he says to her.”
“Are you saying I am as bad as they are?”
“Of course not. But keeping me against my will, restricting what I can do, where I can go and when because you’re afraid something will happen to me, doesn’t make you much better.”
At first, Matvei doesn't reply. I'm not sure he knows what to say.
“Is it the darkness in me?” he finally asks. “Is it the monster I have to become that keeps you from staying?”
“Of course not,” I say, feeling vulnerable, “because the darkness is in me, too.”
“There is no?—”
“Yes, there is,” I interrupt him. “I knew you were going to kill that guy today, and I didn't do anything to stop it. In fact, I was glad he was going to die because of what he did.” Matvei’s eyes widen slightly. “There are things you don't know about me, things I didn't even know about myself until recently. My birth parents were Irish mobsters.”
A flicker of a smile ghosts across Matvei’s face. “It isn't something in your DNA, Sonya. You don't inherit this kind of darkness.”
“Between you and Samson and my inability to stay away from trouble, I'm not so sure. My dark thoughts scared me today, but not enough to leave this life behind. Not enough to leave you. You don't scare me. All I want is you because?—”
The words appear on my tongue, pushing to get out. I try to restrain them only to give in because I don't want to hold back anymore.
“I love you,” I say.
Matvei's eyes widen even more as he raises his eyebrows into the dark hair that falls over his forehead. I can't help but laugh softly.
“Did I finally take the great Matvei Volkov by surprise? I bet every one of your men would pay to see this moment, the moment their fearlesspakhanwas rendered speechless.”
I reach up and brush back the lock of hair, my hand lingering as I gaze at his face, from his full lips to the scar at the corner of one eye that reaches his eyebrow, the neat beard and mustache that rasp against my skin when we kiss. I brush my fingertips to the lines at the corners of his eyes. Matvei leans into the touch, his eyes closing, and I'm startled by the intimacy of the moment.
A heavy silence falls between us, with all the things we've said and all the things we haven't. Matvei's hand finds mine, his thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles—a gentle reassurance that feels familiar and genuine. Our defenses are stripped away, leaving behind something fragile and fiercely honest, and I realize we're both a little scared of how much we need each other.
The silence lingers, charged and vulnerable, until Matvei finally speaks, his voice rougher than I've ever heard it. “You don't have to fear what's inside you, Sonya. Whatever darkness you think you carry, I see it, and I want it. I want all of you, not just the parts that are easy to love.” His admission settles around us, making my heart thud painfully in my chest.
He draws me against him, our bodies molding together in the hush of the room. For once, there's no rush, no frantic edge to his touch—just a slow, aching tenderness that leaves me trembling with anticipation. His lips find mine, soft but unyielding, claiming and coaxing in equal measure. The walls we've both built crumble a little further, and I let myself be held, cherished, even as the hunger between us simmers beneath the surface.
Tonight, there is no need to hide. I let my hands wander, mapping the scars, the muscles, the tattoos, the secrets that make Matvei who he is. His mouth finds the hollow of my throat, his breath hot and possessive.
“You're mine,” he whispers. It isn’t threatening but a fierce promise, one I believe is a vow meant for both of us.
I'm still trembling when he kisses his way down my neck, slipping the strap of my camisole off one shoulder.
“You're so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, then follows that up with something in Russian I don't understand but feel in the marrow of my bones. It makes the fire in me flare to life, and I push his coat off his frame.
It's not long before our clothes are scattered across the floor and Matvei has me up against the wall, his fingers dancing within me as I writhe in pleasure, gasping and moaning.
“I only want you,” I pant, barely able to speak a coherent sentence. I cry out as his thumb circles my clit. “Please promise me you'll be who we need you to be.”
“Hush,” he whispers and covers my lips with his, his tongue raking mine, claiming my mouth as readily as the rest of me. In one thrust, he's inside me. I bite my lip so hard I draw blood, but I don't care. All I want is more of him, more of the pleasure making every nerve ending explode, more of being held by this man who makes me feel so safe, so treasured, so desired as he ravages me in every way possible.
I'm not so far gone that I’m unaware of what Matvei is trying to do; he's trying to fuck the issue away.
“Matvei...” His name is barely a whisper on my lips. “Promise me.”
I push against him as much as I pull him closer, shifting my hips, both of us crying out as he plunges in deeper.
“I said hush.” His thumb is relentless on my clit, and I nearly lose myself, but still I push back against him.
“Matvei—”