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Chapter 17
Aurora
I’ve had enough of this place.
I tried. I really did. But this is insane. I can’t deal with all the fighting.
While Misha hates me, my feelings keep growing for him, and it’s just becoming too much to deal with.
And I definitely can’t stand being locked in a crate again.
I’m done.
When I push away from Misha and climb to my feet, he asks, “Do you feel better?”
My eyes snap to his as he rises to his full height. I’m confused as hell when I see concern on his face.
Shaking my head, I mutter, “I thought you didn’t care.”
He just stares at me, and it makes my already worn emotions spiral back into chaos.
I lose my shit and scream, “What am I doing here, Misha?” I throw my hands in the air. “You’ve treated me like shit since I got here. You’ve threatened me, and let’s not forget, you practically strangled me.” I shake my head at him, my eyebrows drawing together. “Why are you doing this?”
Again he just stares at me, but the expression on his face tightens while his eyes fill with emotion.
Desperately I shake my head. “No.” I take a step back. “Don’t you dare look at me like that.”
God, no. I can’t handle him playing with my emotions right now. It will be a death blow.
Misha takes a step toward me, and my hand flies up between us. “No, Misha,” I plead, anguish straining my voice.
His expression grows tender until I’m looking at the man who gave me my first kiss.
A sob bursts from me, and my heart shrivels in my chest. “If you had your way, I’d be dead already. You made that very clear to me. Now you’re looking at me like you actually care?” I shake my head hard. “I’m done with this war I never signed up for.”
With two huge steps, he closes the distance between us, and his palms frame my face, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes lock on mine with the intensity of a million suns.
My face crumbles under the pressure of everything that’s happened, but before a sob can escape, Misha growls, “This is why.”
His mouth slams against mine in a soul-wrenching kiss.
My mind screams at me to fight him, but my heart sours into oblivion.
I bring my hands up and try to push him away, but it only has him locking an arm around me, caging my body to his.
“Misha,” I whimper against his mouth.
He lifts me from my feet, and I’m carried to his bed, where we fall, his weight pushing me into the mattress.
I manage to turn my face away from him and scream, “Stop! God, please stop.”
He presses his face against my hair, and we lie still as we both catch our breath.
It feels like minutes tick by in which I stare at the window, unable to process everything that’s happened.
“I lied,” he finally whispers.
I press my lips together and swallow hard on the tears jumping to my eyes.
“I still fucking feel it,” Misha admits. I suck in a breath of air. “What?”
“This ever-fucking-present spark.” He lets out a chuckle as he lifts his head, and I feel his eyes burning on my face. “It’s so much more than a spark. It’s a fucking inferno of emotions.”
Slowly I turn my face until our eyes lock. “Then why did you treat me like shit?”
He shakes his head. “Because you’re the enemy.”
My chin quivers as I whisper, “I don’t want to be your enemy.”
Staring into his intense blue irises, I see the feelings he’s kept hidden from me fill them until the look is so tender it breaks my heart.
“Can’t you leave the bratva?” I ask, a seedling of hope daring to unfurl deep in my soul.
Misha shakes his head. “It’s like me asking you to leave your family.” Stupidly, I say, “We can run away.”
A dark chuckle escapes him. “You don’t just run away from the bratva and mafia.”
The seedling starts to whither. “Then what do we do?”
He shakes his head. “I have no fucking idea.”
“That’s it?” My eyebrows draw together with heartache. “We just go back to being enemies?”
“We never stopped.”
He starts to push himself off me, and in pure desperation, I frame his jaw with my hands and press my mouth to his.
Misha lets out a threatening growl, then his full weight hits me again.
This time when he deepens the kiss, I don’t stop him.
I kiss the man with everything I’m feeling. The frustration. The heartache. The exhaustion. The despair. And as his tongue strokes mine, love and hope burst into full bloom in my chest.
We lose control, our hands grabbing and stroking while our mouths devour each other. It’s so freaking intense I’m dizzy from the kiss.
Misha’s hand covers my breast, and his touch is almost biting.
“Iisus Khristos!” He breaks the kiss and glares at me with a mixture of need and anger. “Trakhni moyu zhizn’.”
When he says, ‘fuck my life,’ I can hear the torment in his voice – his struggle between his loyalty to the bratva and his desire for me.
I place a palm against his jaw and sacrificing my pride, I plead, “Choose me.” Please. “Choose us.”
For the first time since I’ve known Misha, there’s pain on his face as he closes his eyes. He rolls off me, and falling onto his back, he lets out a groan that I feel deep in my bones.
He’s choosing the bratva.
Nodding, it takes all my strength to keep the tears back as I climb off his bed.
“Please unlock the door,” I whisper.
I fist my hands at my sides, and as Misha gets up and unlocks the door, I lift my chin and cling to the remnants of my pride as I walk out of his bedroom.
Exhausted to my very core, I leave his suite, only to see it’s in the same hallway as mine. I suck in a shuddering breath of air, and pulling the keycard from my pocket, I walk to my room and swipe it through the lock.
That’s it. Whether my parents like it or not, I’m done with St. Monarch’s.
Just as I turn to shut the door, Misha slams a hand against the wood, and stepping inside, his other hand grips the back of my neck.
I’m yanked toward him, and his eyes burn on me as he growls, “I can’t let you go. Khristos. I’m fucked because I can’t choose.”
When I try to pull back, he slams the door shut and tightens his hold on me. “Don’t make me choose, Aurora.”
“I’m not the one making you choose,” I cry. “If it were up to me, there would be no war between my family and yours.”
“Can you talk to your father?” he asks the impossible. “If he agrees to pay the bratva and mafia their share of his profits, the war will end.”
I let out an incredulous burst of laughter. “What makes you think my father will listen to me?” I gesture at the room. “He sent me to this shithole without warning me what it would be like. He’s a stubborn and hard man.” I pull away from Misha and shake my head. “Just like the whole lot of you. None of you are willing to compromise.”
“I’m a fucking enforcer,” Misha snaps. “In the bratva compromising is the difference between life and death.” He closes the distance between us, and grabbing me by my arms, he shakes me. “I’m the person they send out to take out a target. Do you understand what that means?”
I shake my head even though I know.
“If your father keeps trading without paying his dues, I’ll be forced to kill your family.” Excruciating pain etches deep lines in his face. “I’ll be forced to kill you. There’s no negotiating, no compromising. I’ll be given the order, and I have to obey.”
Or he’ll be killed for disobeying. There are no winners in this war.
“I understand,” I whisper. I lock eyes with him, and meaning the words, I say, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I didn’t know who you
were when we met.”
Misha shakes his head, overwhelming emotions warring on his face. “How do I remain loyal without letting you go?”
“I don’t know.” My chin starts to tremble, unable to hide how my heart is breaking. “If I train hard enough, I could take over my father’s empire and put a stop to all of this, but until then… maybe we can be friends?”
“I don’t want to be your fucking friend,” he shouts, clearly losing his calm, and it makes me take a step backward.
A growl rumbles deep from his chest, and looking like he’s about to kill me, he closes the distance between us. His arms lock around me, and right before his mouth takes mine prisoner, I see the absolute heartache deep in his eyes.
He’s hurting as much as I am.