The Bratva's Bride (Wicked Doms 2)

He’s still calling me Calina. If he’s still calling me Calina, he doesn’t know the truth. He’s operating on half-truths which could destroy us both, but if I tell him everything, it could destroy Calina.

Shaking his head, he meets my eyes, and for one brief moment I see sadness in his gaze. I see a glimmer of broken trust and dreams, and it hurts my heart to see him like this. He thinks I’ve betrayed him, and I haven’t.

“I’m telling you the truth,” I say tremulously. “Please, Demyan. Believe me.”

“I will have the truth from you, Calina,” he says soberly. Dread suffuses my limbs when I realize what he’s doing. He’s dragging me to his bedroom to punish me, to make me tell him truth, but I don’t even know what to tell him. I don’t know what any of this has to do with Amaranov or Amaranov’s son.

“Demyan, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I beg, pleading for him to listen, but he doesn’t. He’s bringing me to his bed, to the cuffs that hang from rings. Lifting me, he places me on my knees on the bed and firmly takes one wrist, then another, snapping them into the cuffs above my head. “Please, sir,” I beg, and this time, I get through to him, I think.

He bows his head and places one hand on my shoulder. “I trusted you,” he says softly, brushing the hair off my shoulders. “I allowed myself to fall for you. And I was a fool to think you felt the same.”

“I did,” I say on a sob. I have nothing to lose by speaking the truth but the broken fragments of my heart. “I do. Oh, God, I do. I meant those vows I said, as stupid as it sounds. I’ve seen beyond the anger in your eyes and I know who you are.” Something flickers in his gaze, but I go on. “That you are a man capable of love and devotion. That you meant those vows to me.” I cry freely, unable to swipe them from my eyes. “Demyan,” I beg. “Sir, please. Listen to me. I don’t know Amaranov.”

Shaking his head, his gaze grows pained. “My men say something else, Calina.”

I’m not Calina, I scream in my mind, but even now I can’t tell him that. I clamp my lips shut, a dead giveaway that I’m keeping something from him. He misses nothing. When I don’t respond, he shakes his head sadly, then walks toward the closet with determined steps. I tremble, waiting for him to return, because I know he’s going to punish me. What will happen next? I can’t do anything to stop this. I can’t tell him the truth.

When he comes back bearing his thick leather belt in hand, I cringe inwardly, knowing how badly it hurts.

“I will extract that truth from you,,” he says with grim determination. “You will tell me everything.”

“I can’t,” I sob. “I can’t tell you everything!”

His lips thin and he takes his place behind me, looping his belt and palming the buckle.

“You can,” he contradicts. “And you will.”

The swish of leather sounds a split second before his belt connects with my naked skin. I howl in agony and grief, crying more for the pain in my heart than the pain on my body. Even now, I can tell he’s restraining himself. He could draw blood with punishment. He’s stronger, but he won’t let himself do it.

“Tell me.”

I grit my teeth and close my eyes, bracing for the next lash. I won’t tell him. He can beat me black and blue and I won’t betray my sister. I tremble, my wrists shaking in the metal binding.

“Tell me,” he orders. I shake my head.

Another painful lash of his belt falls, then another.

“Tell me,” he repeats. Again, I refuse, bracing for another stroke, and this time when he whips me, it’s harder than before. I cry out loud, weeping for the hopes and dreams I held that are lost, for Calina.

For Demyan. My captor. My jailer.

My husband.

How far will he take this? Even though he’s punished me before, he’s never truly harmed me.

Will he now?

“Calina,” he says on a tortured plea. “For the love of God, tell me the truth.” He doesn’t want to strike me again. I can feel his reluctance when he comes to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, his voice pained. He tries a different tact.

“I will protect you. I will take the very best care of you. Even now, I can forgive you if only you give me the truth. Give me a chance to prove my devotion to you. Don’t make me rip the truth from you with pain and punishment.” He pauses, his voice cracking. “Calina.”

I shake my head.

I’m not Calina.

I hear his intake a breath. He walks away, toward the closet, and my stomach clenches. He is going to get a harsher implement.