THE SOLDIER

I text Dima, our bratva cell’s hacker. Kayla got casting couched by this douche: Blake Ensign. I need an address, so I can deal with him. Please and thank you.

Dima texts back immediately. On it.

I text Maxim next because I doubt he would appreciate me texting his wife personally. Tell Sasha I did not appreciate her advice to my girl.

Maxim texts me back a few minutes later. Sasha’s reply: uh oh. He sends a second message, What’s your plan with the mudak?

I reply, I’m going to hurt him. I said before that I don’t get mad, I get even, but tonight, there’s a rage to my violence.

Maxim: Good.

“Room service.” A man calls as he knocks on the door.

“Leave it outside,” I snarl, even though Kayla’s fully covered by the blanket. No other man’s going to even think about Kayla tonight without getting my fist in his teeth.

Kayla

I wake up because Pavel’s no longer in the bed. I climb out in the darkness, reaching for the soft, fuzzy blanket he wraps me in after we play and pulling it around my shoulders. I look for his shoes and wallet-or some other sign that he’s left the room, but they are still here. I see three empty bottles from the mini-bar on the dresser.

I find Pavel leaning on the balcony with another tiny liquor bottle clutched in his hand.

“Master?”

“Malysh. I’m sorry I woke you.” He doesn’t move.

“No, you didn’t. I mean, I missed you in the bed.” I catch sight of his normally impassive face and catch a glimpse of a torture before he scrubs his hand across his neatly trimmed beard. “What’s wrong?”

“Come here.” He opens one arm, and I press myself against him. His addictive scent mingles with the sharper tones of vodka.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“What is it?” I press, knowing he probably won’t share on his own.

“Are you all right, Kayla?” He turns his gaze full on me like I’m the one who’s just drained four bottles of liquor and is standing outside looking bereft.

“Yes. Are you?”

“I don’t want to play that way with you again,” he says quietly.

My heart starts beating like he’s breaking up with me. But he’s not. He can’t be, he’s holding me close against his body.

“What way?”

“Punishing you until you cry. That was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“No.” I press myself even closer to him, like I could meld our two bodies, so we’d never come apart again. “It wasn’t wrong. I needed that. You gave me the release I craved. Why are you upset?”

“Upset.” He repeats the word with a bitter chuckle, like doms aren’t allowed to be upset.

I start connecting the dots. He’s told me so little, but they do connect. He told me he couldn’t play at non-consent. He’s always telling me I’m free to go. Somewhere in his life, he’s seen something ugly.

The balcony tilts and spins. Everyone thinks this is wrong-what we do. Now even Pavel does, too.

Is it wrong? Sick?

But I can’t believe that. Not with how close I feel to this man right now-even though he shares nothing of himself, he just told me I’m his everything.

He’s my everything, too.

“What are you afraid of, Pavel? That you’ll hurt me? That I won’t use my safe word when I should?”

He turns to face me fully, and I’m struck by how much pain is in his eyes. He cradles my face in his hands. “Am I hurting you, Kayla? I mean, I did. I hurt you tonight.”

“Stop,” I interrupt before he goes any further down that path. “I love the way you hurt me. Why are you so worried about it? Did someone say something?” It suddenly occurs to me that my roommates may be taking their case elsewhere. To Sasha, maybe? And it got back to him?

“My father-” Pavel stops and scrubs a hand over his soft beard again.

His father. Oh. I’m instantly sick to my stomach.

“He was abusive?” I guess.

Pavel nods. “Yes. He nearly killed us. And finally, I killed him.” Pavel stares at me, his expression awash with shame. A touch of alarm even. This is Pavel bared-the way he’s never let me, or possibly anyone-see him before.

“Oh Pavel.” I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, standing on tiptoe to reach.

He stands rigid for a moment, then one arm comes around me. “You’re not shocked?”

“Of course, I’m shocked, Pavel. You carry a terrible burden. I’m so sorry.”

He lets out a bitter laugh of disbelief. “You’re sorry? For me?”

“Of course. Pavel-” I pull back enough to look him in the eye. “Did you think I’d judge you?”

He cocks his head. “Why wouldn’t you?” He almost sounds suspicious, like I’m tricking him, somehow.

“Pavel, you were protecting your mother, just like you protected me at that convenience store. You did what you had to do. I love you for it.”

“You love me,” he repeats softly, shaking his head. “Superpower.”

“What?”

“You have the capacity of… I don’t know-acceptance… presence-that no one else has. Do you know that? You’re one in a billion, little flower.”

“I love you.”

Pavel groans like a wounded animal and gathers me up against his body. His breath sounds ragged in my hair.

It’s the third time I’ve said I love him tonight. Each time seems to penetrate him deeper. He hasn’t made it wrong, but he hasn’t said it back. After what I just learned, I can be patient. He probably hasn’t known much love in his life.

I’m going to show him it’s not a superpower. It’s something we can both do, together.