Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“You’re not dying, Mama…”
“Take it as if I am. If…if it’s found out you like men, your father will kill you and use your sister as a pawn. And without you around, no one can protect her. Please…please just…just stay away from that boy. I will not rest in peace if you don’t.”
“Okay…” I stroke her hair as she hyperventilates in my arms. “Okay…just don’t cry, Mama. I hate it when you cry.”
She pulls back to look at me through an overflow of tears and emotions and a woman who looks so tired of everything.
Why did the universe have to take my mother? Why didn’t it take Dad? Cancer should’ve hit him, not her. Why do people like him get to live while kind, selfless people like Mama have to suffer so badly?
Just why?
She strokes my hair, her fingers shaking. “Promise me you’ll marry a girl and have kids.”
“I’m too young for that.”
“Promise me.”
“Okay, promise.”
Fresh tears swell in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dusha moya, so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For birthing you into this world. I wish I could support your preferences, but I can’t. It’s impossible for families like ours. Even if your father accepts it, which he never will since he’s too traditional, his entourage will kill you and him to set an example. You know that, right?”
I nod once.
Because I do know that. Slowly, reality slams into me like an explosion.
Truth is, my unconventional attraction could and would be fatal for me and the two people I love the most—Mama and Alya.
And yet as Mama hugs me again, all I can think of is my lips on Vaughn’s.
I have to—no, I need to see him again.
Even if it’s just one final time.
For closure.
16
YULIAN
PRESENT
Sixteen days, four hours, and twenty minutes.
Is this starting to seem like a pattern? Some would say an obsession—some being Cy—but you know, if it looks like it, feels like it, and the shoe fits…
Seriously, though, my counting habits are getting out of hand because of another major fucking problem.
I suppress a groan as I wave at Kevin, who’s leaving the room. He tried his best, but I’m just not feeling it, and that’s a serious anomaly because I am a sexual being.
Violence and sex are what I’m good at, sometimes not in that order.
So the fact that I haven’t been in the fucking mood since that night in the Heathens’ forest is an issue.
A catastrophe, so to speak.
My dick hasn’t been put to use, and I’m afraid it’ll fall off.
Okay, just kidding; it was put to use, but only by my hand as I was picturing harsh lips, soft breaths, and uncontrollable trembling.
And that’s even more of an anomaly.
I’ll be the first to admit that I prefer boys like Kevin, who love dressing in the cutest panties and spreading their asses for me.
Maybe it’s because the idea of dominating them ignites a feral feeling inside me, or maybe because they’re both beautiful and adorable and love my twisted sense of humor—yeah, I know I’m an acquired taste.
In short, I have a type, and it’s the same in men and women—soft skin, delicate features, and a submissive streak.
That’s who I go for.
That’s who I get hard for.
So why the fuck can’t I stop picturing the one guy who has none of the above?
Vaughn is neither soft nor pliant. He’s all muscular with masculine traits and sharp edges I’ll totally cut myself on if I’m not careful enough. He’s definitely not submissive and actually fights for dominance.
The memory of him flipping us so he’d be on top sends a throb down my spine and straight into my cock—the same cock that was dormant in Kevin’s presence seconds ago.
I grunt. “This fucking sucks. Go away.”
“Are you talking to your demon again?” Cy strolls into my changing room at the underground ring, throwing me his usual side-eye. The roar of the crowd dulls to a hum as the door slams shut.
I knock my bandaged fists together, then punch the air. “Nah, just talking to my alter ego, aka my dick.”
“So demon number one.” He sprawls out on the beat-up faux leather couch, crossing one leg over the other. “Demon number two, your fists, shouldn’t be used for the second night in a row to fight, Yulian.”
“Nonsense. The whole point of fists is to fight.”
“Your bruises from yesterday and the day before and the day before that aren’t healed yet. What’s with fighting almost every day lately?”
I hit the air harder. “Tension.”
“Get laid, then.”
“Well, that’s the fucking issue, Cy. I can’t.” I stop punching and swing around to face him. “You’re smart, help me get back into my world-record sex life.”
“Being smart doesn’t give me solutions to your fluctuating libido.” He focuses on his phone, narrowing his eyes the slightest bit.
Cy is tall and muscular, though leaner than me—his body’s built more like a swimmer’s, honed from years of swimming at dawn. Fighting isn’t his thing, but he’ll throw a punch when pushed, and he’s lethal with weapons. Still, he acts like violence is beneath him, convinced he can get whatever he wants without ever lifting a hand.