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Rage licks through my veins like fire, but I manage to keep my voice calm as I ask, “Why would they do that?”
“Because that’s all I am to them.” Bitterness coats her words as she spits them out. “Something to be married off to secure an alliance.”
“But you’re a Petrov.”
She blinks, looking oddly surprised all of a sudden. It’s only then that I realize that that had sounded an awful lot like a compliment. As if I consider the Petrov family to hold some kind of esteem. Which they technically do, but I will die before I ever admit that.
However, she recovers quickly and instead scoffs bitterly. “Yeah, well, haven’t you heard?” With that resentment still lining her features, she uncrosses her arms and gestures down at her body. “I’m too weak and breakable to be an asset to the family.”
For a few heartbeats, all I can do is stare at her.
Is that really what they make her believe? That she’s weak and breakable and not an asset to their fucking esteemed Petrov family?
My fingers curl around the hilt of a knife, and I have to fight down the suddenly overwhelming urge to slaughter her entire family and bathe in their blood.
How could they ever let her believe that she is anything less than absolutely fucking perfect? That she’s anything less than the most dangerous person I have ever met?
Forcing out a slow breath, I make myself release the hilt of the knife and instead lean forward across the table again. Then I lock hard eyes on Alina.
“Do you know how many people I have tormented over the years?” I ask.
She glances from side to side, looking confused by the sudden change of topic. Then she returns her gaze to me and lifts her slim shoulders in a shrug. “A lot?”
I nod. “A lot.”
Letting the silence stretch, I allow her mind time to come up with an appropriately high number that I know will probably still not be anywhere near as high as it should be. Only when she shifts her weight nervously in her seat do I continue.
“Do you know how many of them are still standing?” I ask.
She bites her lip slightly and furrows her brows. Then she shakes her head.
I hold her gaze in silence for another few seconds before I reply, so that she will truly understand what I’m trying to tell her.
Her chest rises and falls with short breaths, and light from the candles dance across her beautiful face as she watches me.
I keep my eyes on her as I at last speak.
“Only you.”
21
ALINA
Soft sheets brush against my skin. I moan, pressing my cheek into the pillow and draw in a deep breath. An absolutely intoxicating scent fills my lungs.
Confusion ripples through me.
Untangling my arm from the sheets, I lift my hand and rub my eyes while trying to push the sleep from my bones. I blink, staring up at a dark wooden ceiling.
Which can’t be right.
Because the ceiling in my room is white.
I frown, and then jerk my head down to stare at the cover that lies draped over me. It’s black. I frown deeper, feeling like my mind is trying to push through mud. Why are the bedclothes black?
“Finally,” a familiar voice says from my right. A very familiar voice.
I snap my gaze towards it, and my heart leaps into my throat.
