Lila was not prepared for what mornings were like in Viktor's house. She was not aware of the environment.
It was not sunlight trickling in through drapes or the soft rustlings of a world stirring awake. It was silence so biting it cut through the air, punctuated only by mumbled distant murmurs, silence so sharp it could cut— voices in the hall, men talking Russian, low enough to catch nothing but thick enough to strangle the air, the voice was too low. The voices were scary.
She sat in front of the vanity, gazing into the mirror. The girl in it no longer seemed innocent — her face was identical to before, but her eyes were different. Her eyes looked tired, guarded, sharper along the edges.
Tired
Cautious
You wanted out.
Now you're out. Out of one hell and into another. This world is hell; everywhere you go, hell is present!
The door groaned, creaked open behind her. She did not even need to turn to recognize who it was.
Viktor had a presence, weight — the sort which filled a room with him, never speaking a word, his alone presence made the room's atmosphere heavy.
He got closer, like he was going to pray to someone, so that his reflection stood beside hers in the mirror. Black shirt. Rolled-up sleeves. A watch, bulky, heavy enough that it seemed to serve as a cuff. His fingers traced over the edge of her shoulder with barely a caress, but it drew her breath in all the same, making Lila's breath hitch away.
"You slept," he asked, but not asking a question.
Lila swallowed. "A little." "I have slept just a little".
His eyes drew, dragged down on her reflection, pausing, lingering on the area of her throat, on which faint pink blisters had erupted, where faint red marks had bloomed beneath her skin — his blisters, his marks, his sensation, from last night, when his fingers had curled there long enough to cast a shadow upon Lila.
"You look good bruised," he whispered, almost as if it were a compliment.
Lila's belly twisted, stomach knotted with unease, yet heat curled low within or inside her also — the queasy, sick, shameful kind of heat she didn't want to name.
Why did you want to feel so much fear?
She stood up, stepping aside, but Viktor was in her path — one hand on the vanity, the other leaning against it, a wall of warmth and threat, and danger she couldn't get past. The scent enveloped her, wrapped around her like smoke and metal and something inexpressibly, unmistakably male.
"Where do you think you are going, Lila?" he inquired.
"Away from you." Both of them knew it was a lie.
Viktor smiled with a slow, evil grin. "No, you're not." He gently held her chin in place with two fingers to get her to look into his eyes.
"I saw you spying on me last night. When it was dark, and you thought no one was looking." Do you think I was blind, not aware that you were watching little Lila?
Lila's pulse pounded so loudly she could hear it.
"I wasn't—"
He placed a finger on her lips to stop the denial. "You were. "And do you know what I saw?" He leaned in, the warm rush of his breath against her ear. "I saw a girl who was afraid of wanting the monster in her bed."
Her entire body burned with shame and heat, but her thighs contracted and clenched nonetheless.
"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered, although both of them were well aware that she was. She was too scared!
Viktor's laughter was like dark silk. "Liar." His hand crept lower, fingers trailing down the curve of her neck along the line of her collarbone, until his thumb reached a hook beneath the strap on her thin dress. With a flick of his wrist, the strap dropped off her shoulder, exposing her skin, leaving her skin bare.
Lila's gasp stopped.
"Shaking girls quiver," "Scared girls tremble," he whispered now, running the knuckles down her arm to create goosebumps in their trail. "But courageous ones engage." Brave girls fight.
"And what do you want me to be?" she inquired, her voice trembling and shaking.
Viktor's smile evaporated into something sinister. "I want to own you."
It settled between them like a stone in water.
Not a lover.
Not a wife.
Not a pet. Mine.
Something he could break and reform however he pleased. Something he could break and rebuild however he wanted.
"You don't even know who I am," she whispered.
Viktor moved in close to her, his nose bumping against her temple. "I know you, Lila. "I know you better than you know yourself." He touched her wrist with his fingers, where her pulse thudded against him. "I know what goes through your mind late at night. I know what turns you on. I know why you can't tell if you want to bolt from me…"
His fingers slid lower, grazing the inside of her thigh, making her breath shudder.
Or crawl to me.
Lila's body betrayed her, thighs tightening around the specter of his caress. Shame washed over her cheeks, but Viktor smiled like a wolf who had discovered the scent of prey.
"You're disgusting," she hissed.
"So are you," he replied coolly, with a glint in his dark eyes. "That's why you're still standing here."
Lila's hand flashed out and collided with his chest — only he grasped her wrist with ease and turned her until her back was against the vanity, her hand held high overhead. They were chest-to-chest now with no room between them; their bodies were flush now, no space between them, and Lila could feel the raw heat of him through his clothes.
"I don't belong to you," she whispered tremulously, yet she did not pull away.
Viktor's smile turned feral. "Yes, you do."
His other hand cradled her jaw, turning her chin upwards, her thumb brushing against her lower lip. "You imagine you still had choices left to you."
But you didn't. You've already exercised your choice the moment you got into my car."
Lila's heart thumped so violently it was painful. "And if I regret it?"
Viktor's mouth grazed against her ear, softly enough to be nearly gentle.
"And then you will regret it with your legs open and my name on your tongue."
Her knees almost buckled, but Viktor supported her with ease, powerful enough to bear her weight as if she were nothing.
"Let me go," she shouted!
"No," he said matter-of-factly. "You needed an out." This is your out. Me. My bed, my hands, my rules."
"And if I say no?" she prompted, pushing!
Viktor's smile was sharp as a razor. "Then crawl back to where I picked you out of the gutter."
Lila's breath caught. Rage and terror were all jumbled in her chest, but under it all — the worst of it — was desire. Because even though she despised him, no matter the cruelty in him, no one had ever desired her so much.
Her body.
But her struggle.
Her fear.
Her rebellion.
Viktor did not desire a willing girl. He desired a girl who would make him bleed before she surrendered.
And God helped her. Part of her wished to know what he would do to destroy and break her.
"Alright," she whispered. "You've won."
Viktor's grasp relaxed, but his smile grew darker.
"No, Lila," he murmured, kissing the edge of her lip—not giving her what she craved, but enough to keep her famished.
"The game's only beginning."