Confused, and more than disturbed at the events of today, I picked up the bowl and my bag, and walked to the stairs. I tried not to look back, but my heart physically ached at the thought of leaving him down here in this hell of a basement alone, no light to comfort him, no me to press my palm to his cheek and help him relax.
Unable to stop the pang of guilt ripping through my chest, I forced myself to reach the top of the stairs and open the door. I raced to the bathroom, deposited the dirty water, and moved to the kitchen to lock away the key. But as I walked into the room, Savin and Ilya were both staring at me, both wearing the same look of disappointment on their faces. I glanced down to the cut surveillance monitor beside them, the screen now filled with nothing but white noise. I shook my head at their anger.
Ilya moved forward as if to speak, but I held up my hand. “Don’t,” I ordered with a hard voice. “I’m going to my room.”
Turning on my heel, I ran up the stairs and into my bedroom. In seconds I was in the shower, my mind drowning me in the memories of what had just happened.
I pictured Zaal’s eyes softening as I cleansed him. His hand moving my fingers against my face, silently begging me to wash his face. And then him falling to sleep as he pressed my palm to his cheek; drifting off to sleep fully trusting me, a stranger.
I ran my hands down my cheeks. I felt torn. Because I felt. I felt something for him, my enemy. Heat coursed through my body as I remembered stroking him, remembered his hand guiding me to make him come, his stuttered breathing, and the look of pure pleasure that spread across his face as he released on his stomach.
Unable to fight back a moan at the memory, my hand slipped down my soapy body to where I needed it the most. My fingers ran across my clit and I cried out at how badly I needed release, too. The memory alone of his grunts and rumbled growls brought me to the edge. My back braced against the wall as I circled my fingers faster and faster, long moans slipping from my mouth. Then when I imagined him staring in my eyes as his jaw clenched, he roared and came, white streams of his cum in contrast with the olive tone of his stomach. I cried out as pure pleasure ripped through me. My body curled inward at the force of how strong I came, gasping for breath in the aftermath.
Standing under the heavy spray of the water, I washed away the wetness that was coating my inner thighs. I jumped out, toweling myself off.
As I lay on my bed, a wave of shame took hold. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling like I was betraying my own blood. What would my father say if he knew what I’d just done with the enemy?
But no matter how hard I despaired, I couldn’t seem to regret Zaal.
I wanted him.
But I knew I couldn’t go down there again. I owed it to my family.
In ten minutes I’d dried my hair and crawled into my bed. I just wanted to curl up and forget it all for a while.
As soon as I pressed my cheek against my palm searching for sleep, the memory of Zaal doing the same stirred a need in my body, a need for him.
Lifting my hand to my laptop on the dresser, I pulled it open to find my guards had reattached the surveillance feed. I fell into a fitful sleep watching a now-clean Zaal sleeping deeply.
His usually pain-riddled face now expressed nothing but peace.
Chapter Eight
Talia
I didn’t leave my bedroom all day. In fact, I never even left my bed. I’d forced myself to stay away from the basement. I’d forced my self to stay locked the fuck away, period. I’d forced myself to fight my instinct to run to Zaal.
I’d tossed and turned all last night, memories of my babushka plaguing my dreams, filling me with guilt. Memories of her stroking my hair as I fell asleep as a child, telling me about how she met her true love …
“I was only a child really, Talia. But one look at your grandfather and I knew. I knew he was my soul’s other half.”