Throne of Vengeance (Throne Duet #2) by Rina Kent

Huffing, I turn my head away. I need a break from being caught in his gaze. Besides, this position and the familiar bed only remind me of the ludicrous things he did to my body night in and night out.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Kyle asks in a low, slightly husky voice.

“No.”

“Right. You lost your memories.” He gently clutches my chin and forces me to face him. After he makes sure I’m staring at him, he slides his thumb beneath my bottom lip. “The first time I saw you was about nine years ago. You attended this Swan Lake performance by some European ballet with Nikolai, because he was infuriatingly Russian and liked to show it even in ballet performances. Adrian was there, too, because he’s interested in that for some reason or another. You had your arm in Nikolai’s and you wore gloves, white, like your dress. It was long and bright in the light, which reminded me of a distant image I thought I had long forgotten. Angels. Not real ones, but those from my father’s favorite painting. You were speaking animatedly to Nikolai and Adrian, discussing the performance. Your grandfather had laugh lines around his eyes as he listened to you. Do you know what I thought back then?”

My lips have been parted the entire time he’s been speaking, trapped in the calm way he retells our first meeting. I remember that day, because even though I thought he was another one of Dedushka’s ‘killers’, I was somehow caught in the gleam in his eyes, the way they darkened as if he were empty and trying to drag everyone else into that emptiness.

“No.” Instead of snapping, my voice is as calm as his. “And I don’t want to know.”

“I thought you looked like a typical mafia princess,” he continues, as if I haven’t said anything. “But I was soon proven wrong when I heard you talk to Nikolai. You weren’t spoiled or acting like a brat with privileges. You were straightforward, knew what you wanted, and went to it.”

“Telling me about the past won’t make a difference.”

“Yes, it will. How else are we going to get familiar with each other again?”

“Why should we?”

“Because you’re my wife and I’m no fucking stranger you’ll sleep separately from. If familiarity is what you need, then I’ll give it to you.”

“What if I need space?”

“I don’t believe in space. That’s a word invented by losers who couldn’t figure out their own minds.”

“And you have?”

“I have.” There’s so much conviction in his tone, it takes even me by surprise.

“So what now? Are you going to keep holding me like this?”

“I’m also telling you about the past.”

“The one I said I don’t want to hear about?”

“The one you want to forget about, but we’ll rectify that. Where was I? Right, the first time I met you, after the ballet. You don’t go to those anymore, because they remind you of Nikolai. The one time you went to one after his death, you hid in a corner and reemerged with your eyes red. Since they weaken you and you’re in no position to allow weakness, you stopped going altogether.”

He…he shouldn’t know that. I made sure no one saw me that way —not even Ruslan and Katia.

“So that’s the thing, Princess. I didn’t only see your strength, I also witnessed your weakness. It was bound to happen after Nikolai asked me to keep an eye on you when I wasn’t on a sniping mission. You were a proud thing and didn’t want to admit when you needed help, but you were a fast learner. You obviously enjoyed my company since you wouldn’t leave me alone, and that’s when you fell head over heels for me.”

Lying asshole.

I didn’t fall in love with him. The most frustrating part is that I can’t contradict him because that would mean I do remember.

“But then again, I’m the very loveable type, Princess.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Every morning,” he goes on in his serene voice, “we woke up early and jogged together, then I taught you how to shoot for long distances because, as you said, Vladimir sucks as a teacher.”

He’s the one who said that, not me. Jesus. He tells a story so convincingly, mixing lies with truths. If I didn’t know my own memories, I wouldn’t suspect it.

“Needless to say, you fell in love with me more with every passing day. Especially after I kind of saved your sister.”

“I don’t believe any of that.”

“I’m the one with the memories, remember?” He brushes his lips against mine and I taste something different than any of the other times he’s kissed me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Kyle has always had a distinctive taste and smell, but right now it feels like a mixture of longing, despair, and something else.

“That doesn’t mean whatever you said happened.”

“It did.”

“In your dreams, maybe.”

“In my dreams, I’m thrusting into your wet cunt and feel it strangle my dick as you scream my name. Do you want me to show you?”

Blood rushes to my cheeks. How can he remain so calm while saying shit like that? I’m on the verge of combusting. “Let me go.”

“You’re a fan of that sentence, but you should know by now that it doesn’t work on me. I need to continue touching you so you can familiarize yourself with me again. You usually get aroused the moment I touch you.”