Page 72 of Phantom Flower

Years had passed, and I was still “afflicted.” I had fucked plenty of men and women since then, never hiding who I was or what I wanted. But lately, the only person I wanted under me, around me, inside my fucking head was a cute, silver-haired Japanese boy who wore flowers in his hair.

And now my father thought a fucking arranged marriage would cure me.

I wondered if he had heard about me claiming Rei at school. He had been fine with me messing around in the beginning, but he clearly thought I had grown out of it. He was never okay with me being with a man. Was that why he was pushing this marriage so hard? Did he already know? I had threatened everyone at school to keep their mouths shut, but my father was still my father.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

My father’s gaze hardened. “Dimitri, it’s about time you stop this nonsense. It doesn’t have to be the Rossi girl specifically. But it has to be a woman. You are the heir to this empire. You cannot keep playing these games forever. The men beneath us are already talking. They question whether their future pakhan can be trusted to lead when he refuses to settle down with a proper wife and produce heirs.”

“So I should do what you did?” I snarled. “Marry a woman I don’t want and treat her like fucking trash until she’s so miserable she swallows a bottle of pills and kills herself?”

My father’s eyes darkened to pure obsidian. “Watch your mouth.”

But I was past caring.

“You married her for power, just like you’re trying to force me to do. You kept her at arm’s length her entire life. When she was diagnosed with severe depression, you weren’t there for her. You just brought in doctors and pumped her full of medication like she was some broken machine that needed fixing. I was ten years old and I watched my mother disappear right in front of me because you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit beyond how it looked from the outside. You let her rot in that house while you built your empire.”

My father slowly rose from his chair. I could see the way his hands were trembling with rage.

“You dare speak to me about your mother?”

“I dare,” I growled, stepping closer to the desk. “Because unlike you, I won’t trap some innocent woman in a loveless cage just so I can keep fucking whoever I want behind closed doors. I won’t become you. I won’t destroy another person just to protect this fucking empire.”

My father stared at me like he was seeing something he did not recognize. For a moment, I thought he might actually hit me. Part of me almost wanted him to.

But I did not give him the chance. I turned on my heel before I did something I would regret.

“Dimitri,” my father called after me. “This conversation is not over.”

I slammed the door behind me so hard the frame cracked.

I felt so much anger.

It burned through my veins like acid. My hands were shaking. My vision was tunneling. I needed to kill someone. I needed to fuck someone until they screamed. I needed something, anything, to calm the monster raging inside me tonight.

Because if I did not find an outlet soon, I was going to burn the whole fucking world down.

I thought nothing but blood or sex could calm the monster raging inside me tonight.

But the second Rei said I was hurting him, something inside me cracked wide open.

My grip on his jaw instantly loosened. I had not realized how hard I had been holding him until I saw the angry red marks blooming across his delicate skin, the perfect imprint of my fingers. He looked terrified.

More terrified than the night I chased him through the woods with a gun. Back then, even while he ran, there had been fire in his eyes. Adrenaline. He had been scared, yes, but he had still fought. Right now, he looked like a cornered animal. Like one wrong move from me and he would shatter completely.

The rage that had been boiling in my veins began to drain away, replaced by something far worse.

Guilt.

I slowly dropped my forehead against the curve of his neck. He smelled like flowers, so fucking sweet it made my chest ache. I kept him firmly on my lap, my arms banding tightly around his slim waist so he could not escape.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, lyubimyy,” I whispered against his skin. My voice sounded broken. “Fuck… I didn’t mean it.”

He trembled in my hold, small shivers running through his body, but he did not pull away. That small mercy soothed the beast inside me more than any amount of violence ever could.

I really had not wanted to hurt him like this.

In my darkest fantasies, yes, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to bruise his hips with my fingers while I buried myself deep inside him. I wanted to mark his throat with my teeth until everyone knew he was mine. I wanted to push him until he cried and begged and broke so beautifully for me. But not like this. Not with anger that had nothing to do with him. I had walked through the door consumed by my father’s words and taken it out on the one person who had become my only peace in this fucked-up world.