Page 113 of Velvet Chains
I watch as he quickly pulls on his clothes, his movements sharp and efficient. He grabs his gun from the nightstand, checking the safety before tucking it into the waistband of his jeans.
“Be careful, please,” I tell him, my heart in my throat.
He pauses, his gaze softening as he looks at me. In three long strides, he’s back at the bed, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, Laura,” he breathes out, his voice rough with emotion.
I chew on my lip as I glance up at him. “What does that mean?” I ask, a flutter of hope in my chest.
He gives me a smile but doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down and kisses me again, hard and desperate, as if he’s trying to pour all his feelings into that one embrace.
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the rumpled sheets, my heart aching with a mix of love and longing and fear.
“Go to sleep, kiska,” he calls over his shoulder, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.
I hear the front door open and close.
Slowly, I sink back against the pillows, exhaustion tugging at me, my body heavy and sated from our lovemaking. I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, the taste of him on my lips.
As my eyes drift closed, I clutch the necklace he gave me, the diamonds warm against my palm. It feels like a promise, a tangible reminder of the bond growing between us.
Come back to me, I pray silently, sleep pulling me under. Come back to us, Victor. We need you. I need you.
Chapter 45
Laura
THE HUNGER hits me suddenly, a gnawing reminder that my body isn’t just mine anymore. I rub my eyes and check the time on my phone. It’s five minutes to midnight.
I’m naked, the sheets tangled around my legs.
Shivering slightly in the cool air, I wrap the sheet around myself and pad over to our walk-in closet. I open my side first, scanning the racks for something comfortable to wear, but nothing catches my eye.
On a whim, I walk over to Victor’s side and open his closet. His scent wafts out, a mix of cologne and something undefinable that makes me think of him. My heart aches with longing.
Geez, Laura, get a grip—do you always have to be this needy?
I spot a large, soft-looking T-shirt and pull it on, the fabric skimming my thighs. It smells like him, and I can’t help but smile.
I pull on a pair of old track pants, tying the drawstring snugly under my belly. As I make my way out of the bedroom, I pause, struck by the eerie silence that permeates the mansion.
Where is everyone?
The Morozovs keep a lean staff, but there are always a few guards and maids around, even at this late hour. Tonight, though, the house feels empty, abandoned.
My stomach gurgles insistently, dragging me out of my thoughts. I rub my belly, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“Alright, little caterpillar, let’s find you something to munch on,” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood for myself.
The kitchen isn’t far, but tonight, it feels like a trek through an abandoned castle. The tiles are cold underfoot as I finally enter the familiar space. I flick on the light, squinting as it floods the dim corridor and kitchen.
I start rummaging through the fridge, looking for something to satisfy my cravings.
A sandwich will do.
I gather some bread, cheese, and a tomato, setting them on the counter.
I slice the tomato, my movements slow, my ears straining against the quiet. It’s too quiet. I shake my head, dismissing the eerie feeling as just nerves.
