Crown of Hate (Soulless Empire)

Chapter 7

7

ALYA

Mama always raved about the magic of wedding nights. But her stories left out one crucial detail—the nerve-wracking uncertainty of what comes after the “I do’s.” As I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself, my mind races with questions.

What will Mikhail expect?

He doesn’t know I’m a virgin, and this isn’t exactly a fairytale romance—it’s a forced marriage, for heaven’s sake!

Yet my traitorous mind keeps rewinding to that post-vow kiss. The way his arms snaked around me; the way he grunted as his tongue plundered my mouth… It was electric, passionate, far beyond anything I’d imagined a kiss could be.

Ugh.

I can’t deny Mikhail’s skill, even if I hate him. Closing my eyes, I ghost my fingertips over my lips, chasing the phantom sensation left by his taste. It’s an addictive feeling…

After a display like that, surely he’s anticipating more tonight, right?

Hell, and if I’m honest with myself, I’d be disappointed if nothing else happened.

But what if it was all for show? Just a public claim of ownership? What if he’s not actually attracted to me, and I’m reading too much into things?

I shake off the doubt. No, that kiss was too raw, too hungry to be just a show. Besides, there wasn’t even anyone important there.

Returning to my room, I’m greeted by red lingerie laid out on the bed—a provocative piece with more strategic openings than actual coverage. I scoff. Of course Mikhail picked this out. Does he think I’m here to star in some private porn show or something?

Part of me wants to toss the garment on the floor. But it’s the only piece of clothing I have right now. And a small, rebellious part of me actually burns with curiosity. What would Mikhail’s face look like if I sauntered in wearing this bit of scarlet nothing? The thought of him rendered speechless with desire sends an unexpected thrill through me.

After putting on the lingerie, I brush my hair into a high ponytail and spritz on some perfume. Then I leave my room, having no idea where exactly I’m going. Mikhail’s room is down the hall, but suddenly, I’m not that sure he’d be pleased to see me there uninvited.

I sigh, frustration bubbling up. Screw that. Why do I care about what’ll please him? He kidnapped me and forced me to marry him. I’ll cross whatever boundaries I damn well please.

My mind blank, I find myself walking towards his room. The sheer scale of this place hits me—another wing of stairs sprawls across from his door. Just how obscenely massive is this mansion?

I hesitate outside his bedroom, hand suspended inches from the door. My heart thunders in my chest, each beat a war drum of indecision. Should I knock? What if he’s already passed out? Or what if… what if he’s not alone? The thought sends an unexpected pang of jealousy through me.

I gnaw my lip, fingers curling into a fist, then relaxing again. This is ridiculous. I’m his wife now, aren’t I? Even if it’s just on paper. But the title doesn’t erase the fact that he’s essentially a stranger—a dangerous one at that. One that I…

Stop it, Alya. Focus.

My hand falls to my side as I take a deep breath.

No.

I won’t give him the satisfaction of coming to him like an eager puppy. Let him make the first move. If he wants me, he can come find me.

Decision made, I pivot on my heel to leave. But as I turn, I let out a startled squeal. A pair of piercing blue eyes meet mine, gleaming with amusement at catching me in front of his door.

What the… How long has he been watching me?

“Mikhail… I…” The words die in my throat as his gaze roams over me and lingers on the low neckline of the teddy.

My muscles go rigid under his scrutiny. I can’t move, can’t breathe, and can’t think beyond my imagination running wild with images of him pinning me against the wall and kissing me senseless again.

I allow myself to drink in the sight of his broad, muscular chest peeking through his open shirt. This man is sculpted like someone who practically lives at the gym, all defined muscle and strength.

My fingers itch to trace those abs, to explore every plane and curve. He could easily be gracing magazine covers and giving models a run for their money if he weren’t… well, whatever he really is.

A monster .

“That looks good on you,” he says, his voice a gravelly rumble, eyes darkening with unmistakable desire.

My chest flutters. I hate how his compliments affect me, how they make me want to forget who he is and what he did to my father. My mind knows he’s the enemy, but my body seems to have other ideas, responding to his voice and presence with a will of its own.

I ignore his compliment, but it doesn’t stop the warmth blossoming in my chest. “I know you picked it out.”

He nods. “You’re my wife now. I can get you whatever I want.”

I roll my eyes. “Such a man-whore.”

A flicker of amusement dances through his expression. “Am I?” He climbs one of the three stairs keeping us apart. “You came running to me the moment you got dressed in that little number.”

“I wasn’t running to you, Mikhail. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only one who lives here.”

He climbs the second step. “But I’m the only one you miss. The only one you yearn for. The only one you want to kiss... again. Am I wrong?”

He smiles, and my insides turn to liquid. I absolutely hate how beautiful and seductive he is. One more second of this and I might just lose it.

Fuck, and why shouldn’t I? I’m stuck here anyway. Who says being married to a. gorgeous monster has to be all bad? I could spend a night in this Greek god’s bed, then maybe unearth some dirt on him and plot my sweet revenge…

Sounds like a perfect plan—or maybe I already have Stockholm syndrome and I’m looking for any excuse to jump those bones.

Only one way to find out.

I shrug coyly, arching my back just enough to push my breasts out in a tantalizing display. “For someone who’s supposed to be all brooding mystery, you sure love the sound of your own voice.”

“That only happens when I’m with you, malyshka .” He angles over me, his blue eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes my spine stiffen. He smells so good—citrus and whiskey with an underlying musk that’s pure, primal male.

“So, you only yap when you’re with me?” I huff a laugh, doing my best to project an air of confidence despite my runaway pulse. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

Because, despite my best intentions, I sure as hell have one on him. A massive, all-consuming crush that has me dying to explore what’s hidden beneath those clothes.

It’s killing me.

A sinful smirk plays on his lips. “Is that what you think? Is that what you want ?”

I inch closer, pressing my knee between his thighs and dragging it all the way up until I feel the hard ridge of his erection. The bulge is massive. Terrifying. Utterly alluring. A surge of electricity zaps through me, and I’m tempted to reach down, to palm the beast below and stroke until he’s groaning my name. Maybe then I’d feel some power.

But I don’t. I may not have much experience with dating and all that, but I know this much: the one to give in first is usually the loser. I can’t bear to lose anymore.

Mikhail, however, seems unfazed by my bold move. He slips a finger under my chin and lifts my face. His mouth hovers dangerously close to mine, his warm breath caressing my skin like invisible flames.

I remember how he tasted. Unforgettable.

Unforgivable .

Still, he’s nearly impossible to resist. I lose myself to his touch, my breath ragged, my core aching. My tongue darts out, wetting my lips in blatant anticipation.

“I can’t resist you,” Mikhail rasps, his voice dripping with raw hunger. “And you can’t resist me either, can you?”

Before I can even draw another breath, he crushes his mouth into mine with a bruising, desperate kiss that steals the air from my lungs.

I rise up on my toes, winding my arm around his neck, needing to eliminate any space between us, to feel every steel-corded muscle of his frame pressed against me as I kiss him back.

“Fuck you,” I rasp, in between crushing kisses.

“It would be my fucking pleasure.”

He grunts, his hand fumbling blindly behind him for the doorknob as he guides us into the dimly lit bedroom. The air is thick with the masculine scent of his cologne and our mingled breaths.

“You monster,” I gasp, already drowning beneath him.

Mikhail pins me against the wall, his large hand clamping around my wrists, holding them captive above my head, breaking our kiss for a minute. The position leaves me completely exposed, vulnerable, and yet I’ve never felt more powerful.

“I’m your monster now, princess. Better get used to it.” His hooded gaze burns into mine, dark with unbridled lust.

I lick my kiss-swollen lips hungrily, desperate for another hit of his addictive taste.

“I’m not your princess.”

He smiles, those stormy blue eyes flickering with fire and lightning.

“That’s right, you’re no princess. Not anymore. We’re married, malyshka . That means you’re my fucking queen .”

He claims my lips again, the kiss fiercer, more ravenous than before. Then his mouth trails down my throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. I can feel his hard cock pressed against my thigh. Its teasing presence drives me crazy. I made him that big. He’s desperate for me.

And fuck, I’m desperate for him too.

“This is no way to treat a queen,” I mumble, neck craning, some part of me still trying to fight back.

“It’s exactly how I treat my queen,” he responds. “With fucking worship.”

He pushes the strap of my lingerie aside, exposing my tits to his hungry gaze.

My nipples harden at the sudden exposure, and goosebumps erupt over my skin. My cheeks burn as I’m suddenly too aware of my half-naked state.

He still doesn’t know I’m a virgin. Before this, the most I’d ever done with a man was an innocent kiss on the lips.

What will he think when he realizes he’s about to take my innocence? Will he be gentle? Sophia said it’s painful at first, but then it gets better until all you feel is pleasure.

But right now, all I can focus on is the sensation of his giant hands cupping my breasts, his thumbs teasing my hardened nipples, and the ache between my legs. I want to feel the pleasure of him fucking me senseless.

The crudeness of the thought should shock me, but it only intensifies my desperation. I can take pain. But can I take the pleasure?

“Your tits are so fucking perfect,” Mikhail groans, lowering his head to take one taut peak into his mouth. “To think, they belong to me now.”

I don’t belong to you . It’s what I want to scream in his stupid, gorgeous face. But I know it’s not true. Not right now. In this moment, I’m utterly and completely his.

So, instead, a soft moan escapes my swollen lips. I arch into his touch, begging for more. The feeling of his warm, wet tongue flicking and sucking sends a scorching shockwave through me.

I cry out, writhing to free my hands and grip something—anything. I’m panting, rasping, and gasping for breath. The pleasure that cocoons me is too much to handle. I’m on fire, burning with each flick of his tongue and stroke of his fingers.

But Mikhail doesn’t stop tormenting me with his tongue, even as he frees my hands and lifts me off the ground.

I instinctually snake my legs around his muscular waist as he carries me to the bed, his strong arms wrapping around me like a cage. But it’s a cage I never want to leave. My heart beats wildly against his chest, my breath catching in my throat as he finally brings his lips back up to mine.

Lowering me onto the mattress, he crawls over my body, his weight a delicious pressure.

“Are you ready for me, Alya?” he asks, his voice deep and rumbling. A shiver runs down my spine as he speaks. I hesitate to respond. “You have no idea how much I've wanted this,” he continues over my silence. “It's all I've fucking thought about since the day I met you.” A sinful smirk fills his blood-red lips. “Since the day you proposed to me.”

“I didn’t…”

“Hush,” he whispers, placing a finger over my mouth. “It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is this simple question: do you want me as much as I want you?”

My heart hammers against the inside of my chest. My breath comes out in long, raspy stutters.

“I… I don’t know…” I manage to spit out. “How much do you want me?”

His sinful smile grows into something so wild I can barely see the gorgeous man behind it anymore. Only a primal beast.

“Let me show you.”

His intense gaze holding mine captive, he slowly unhooks the rest of my lingerie, peeling it away until I’m fully exposed. My body trembles under his smoldering stare, every sensation heightened.

I look up at him, my body now completely surrendered to him. We’re both drowning in the sheer intensity of the moment, the ravenous hunger for each other so powerful I can hardly breathe.

But there’s something else, something I can’t quite describe. It crosses through us like a warm mist as he traces a finger lightly down my abdomen to the apex of my thighs. I hold my breath, anticipation coiling tight in my core.

With a growl, he lowers his head and inhales deeply. “What a fucking delicacy you are.”

In one swift, fluid motion, he lifts my legs and buries his head between them.

I feel the heat of his breath against my folds, then the firm press of his wicked tongue on my clit.

My body jerks at the sensation, my hand instinctively reaching out to grip his hair. “Mikhail!” I cry. “W-what are you doing?”

No one has ever gone down on me. It feels so strange… and so damn exciting at the same time.

He raises his head to look at me, and I catch the dark glint in his eyes before he returns his attention between my legs. “Eating dinner.”

“You can—” Another cry erupts from my chest, cutting me off as he swipes his tongue across my swollen nub. The feeling is electric and insanely intense, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My feet curl, and my fingers grip his hair more tightly as he slides a finger inside me, driving it in and out.

Holy fuck .

“You’re so tight,” he groans. “So wet and perfect.”

My entire body is on fire. Surges of pleasure course through my veins as he continues to feast on me. Mikhail's tongue is skilled at teasing, at bringing me to a ledge then pulling me back. But I want to be pushed off. I want to fall and fall…

“ Fuck .” My hips buck against him.

He knows what he's doing, that much is clear. His tongue flickers against my clit with an expert precision, his fingers thrusting in and out in a way that leaves me breathless. I can feel myself getting closer to something, a peak I’ve never reached before. An edge. Some climax is building inside me, an unstoppable force.

The tempo of his tongue increases, and the sensations build to a crescendo. My whole body tenses. My breath hitches, and I know that I won't be able to hold back much longer.

“Don't stop,” I quietly beg, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”

He smiles wickedly, raising his eyes to meet mine. “I won’t. I want you to come on my tongue, malyshka . Now. Do it. Let go for me.”

Mikhail doesn't miss a beat. His tongue is back on me, matching the rhythm of my pounding heart, pushing me closer to the edge. His fingers stroking my folds, he works his magic. Then, I’m hit by a fucking tidal wave.

It’s pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Like I’m being lifted to heaven and shoved down to hell all in one long, endless stroke.

Tears stream from my eyes as I convulse beneath him. My monster. My devil.

“ Mikhail… Oh God, Mikhail…”

Every nerve ending in my body feels electrified. Mikhail's name is the only thing I can utter, a hoarse and breathy plea for him to continue.

He doesn’t listen.

Instead, he releases the pressure on my clit and kisses it gently, savoring the taste. With a soft, satisfied chuckle, he pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What-what are you talking about?” I heave, still gathering myself. “I didn’t do anything...” He did all the work. Yet I can barely find the strength to speak. My body is still buzzing from the aftershocks.

He smirks, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. Leaning in close, his hot breath tickles my ears. “You gave in. You gave yourself to me…” He pauses, letting the tension build. My juices glisten on his blood-red lips. “And now you’re mine, malyshka . Forever.”