Luna Queen

16 - Death Wishes

16 - Death Wishes

Azoic, Rostov Oblast
North Russia - Russian Fed; Population: 82,356
Romanov's Estate House

Sativa
I blink, slowly prying my eyes open. Letting them fall shut at the darkness that meets my eyes. I stay unmoving, for I am confused at my bearings, but most of all, I am deeply troubled by the thick, tan and muscular arm draped over my lower stomach. I swallowed, the sparks igniting from the touch lets me confirm the owner of it.

I let my eyes slowly trail up the arm, the atmosphere in the room oddly thick and hot as I swallow a second time, my eyes confirming my earlier suspicions of his arm draped across my hips.

Romanov.

I attempt the luxury of sitting up - but, this again is an Alpha King. Being a Beta's child was nothing compared to him. My efforts were futile as his grip on my waist became even tighter than it was earlier. I mentally cursed myself for the tiny moan that manages to escape from my lips as his burrows his head into my neck, his intoxicating scent filling my apt nostrils.

"Get off me," I manage to muffle under my breath. The man seems very deep in sleep, and as he does nothing but stir, I cannot help but watch him in his peaceful, almost private act.

I could tell that I was morning, I wasn't in my dress anymore, and my hair was floating loosely down my shoulders. Thankfully, I had on a black shirt, that I presumed to be his. I sniffed deeply, drunk with his wonderful scent. I should be fully awake, I should be pounding on his back for answers as to how I got in his bed. I should be worried of how he so wonderfully held me in his arms, why I was in nothing but his shirt.

But, I couldn't bring myself to do anything else but stare at the man that lay with me.

He was breathtaking.

His wavy black hair in a tussle above his head. It was starting to grow longer, it now passed his ears, giving him a slightly younger appearance. All the hard creases of his face, all the sharp edges - softened. I firmly hold my hands to my side to keep from running them all over his face. His lips were so soft - well, they looked soft. His lips parting with every breath he took.

God, how I wished his eyes were open. I just wanted to loose myself in the eyes that had looked at me so coldly the day at the diner, when he promised that he'll never be mine - I'll never be his.

Those eyes that killed me the day that he hurt me the first time. Physically - he punched me - and as weird as it may seem, I would take a million other punches from him if it meant that he could love me, as I love him.

I shook my head furiously, "I did not love this man."

Tiny scars littered his face, and it was the first time I had seen them up so close. But, one slightly bigger one, from his left ear to the bridge of his nose stood out.

It stood out like a rose amongst thorns. It stood out like a blessing amongst a thousand curses. I was oddly compelled to it - it wasn't just my human side showing affection for him.

I swallowed, I wanted nothing more that to tell him that I could kiss his past away. That his father cannot dictate his life forever. I wanted to love him, more than I should. I needed him for power, and he did not need me at all. I want to be fine with that, I want to be happy with that.

But, I'm not.

I let my eyes wander to his chest, where most of his pain had inscribed themselves in. I sighed, the man was strong. His mouth-watering, muscle-packed abdomen did nothing but heat my lower regions. I bite my lip at the tattoos and scars mixed in a beautiful, yet warning-me-away sign.