Page 11 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
It was all a game to her, and she had become bored with me.
Then she set her brother at the helm and had him tear my life apart with his words—her words—delivered in cold, cruel, heartlessness.
It was all a game, and she played it so well.
I’m still staring into her eyes, all of that pain and torment now fresh in my memory. I feel no desire for her now, only hatred. Hatred for what she put me through. Hatred for what she did, her and her brother, toying with me.
Anya doesn’t break the stare, and as the seconds tick past, it becomes more intense.
Finally, unable to bear the heavy weight of memories flooding into my mind, I nod. “Deal,” I snap. I can’t think straight. I have to get away.
She holds out her hand to shake mine. I clench my jaw and shake to seal the agreement. Touching her is like touching a poisonous rose, the petals so soft and delicate, but the thorns as sharp as blades.
I can’t look at her for another second. I can’t stare into those eyes, the eyes of someone I loved so deeply, but who toremy heart to shreds with their cruelty. The air in the kitchen is suddenly hot and heavy and suffocating me.
“For whatever a liar’s word is worth, have when making a deal—I guess we’ll wait and see, won’t we?” I snap coldly. “And this time, I won’t fall for your cruel games, Anya. Your beauty might have grown more lustrous, but it only masks the dark, festering coldness of your heart.”
Her mouth drops open in shock. Good. Suffer the words you deserve to hear. The words I should have said five years ago instead of begging for you to come back to me.
I storm out before I lose my temper completely and do something I’ll regret.
I probably shouldn’t even have agreed to her deal. But no matter how much I want to deny it, she still has power over me.
I’m a fucking idiot.
The moment I realized they’d taken the wrong girl, I should have sent her away. This was never the plan. This is only inviting hell right into my living room. What the fuck have I done?
She’s thrown me completely off now.
I hurry upstairs to my bedroom, trying to leave my thoughts and anger in the kitchen with her. I throw on a T-shirt and some sneakers and make my way to the gym on the top floor. It’s the only thing that saves me from myself.
Over the years, I’ve used the weights, lifting heavier and heavier, to stop myself from tearing others apart in my anger.
My temper has darkened, my heart has grown cold. But clearly not cold enough, if she can still creep in and cause me pain.
I work out for an hour and a half. My body is screaming, sweat is pouring over me, soaking my clothes. I work out until every muscle has pushed away those memories and I don’t have the energy to hold onto my emotions.
Then I climb into the shower and let cold water blast over me.
Bringing her here was a mistake.
Marrying her was worse.
I acted on impulse, and I’m already filled with regret and wondering how the fuck I’m going to make this worth my while for all the agony she brings me.
Chapter 4 - Anya
The longer he stood there staring at me, the smaller I felt, sinking into myself, disappearing in the quicksand of my heart.
He called me a liar; he said I played cruel games. He told me I have a dark, festering, cold heart.
He said I am beautiful.
It’s been three days since he brought me here.
I’ve spent all day, almost every day, in my bedroom. Essentially, I’m hiding from him and the surge of confusion and heartache that floods me every time I look into his eyes.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I’m not a liar. I’m not cruel.
