The Monster (Steamy Shorts #13)

Chapter 2

2

NIKOLAI

M y brothers called her the “plainest, dullest, most uninteresting Scranton” and the one who didn’t look like her sisters. They meant it as condescending, but I’m glad.

I’m glad she doesn’t look like anyone but herself.

Nina Scranton’s beauty hits me as solid as a punch. Her eyes are like pools of honey, the same color as her hair. She has a dimple on her chin and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks that even her makeup could not cover.

The soft cheekbones, the soft, plump lips.

My God, she’s perfect. Whoever called her plain was either blind or a fool or both.

And I’m about to sully her with my filth.

Two months ago, when my eldest brother, Ivan, casually commanded me to marry a Scranton, I didn’t think too much of it. I was used to receiving orders and carrying them out without question. It was just one of them.

Two powerful families from different parts of the world and leaders in their respective industries. Unifying through marriage. It’s a tale as old as time.

But as I hold her close after the farce of a wedding ceremony, the soft strains of music filling the air around us, I can’t fathom that she’s my wife. Barring the fact that we just met on our wedding day and we were both forced to marry, she feels unreal. The world falls away, and it’s just the two of us—my hands on her waist and her arms around my neck.

My blood tingles under my skin, and I fear that I can’t make myself release her once the song ends.

When she refused to look at me as she walked down the aisle and stood beside me, my heart sank. I couldn’t blame her. I look hideous. People, especially kids, run the other way when they see me. That’s not unwarranted, though. I am a monster inside and out—something I have to live with for the rest of my godforsaken life.

I’m so wrapped up in my head that it takes me a few seconds to realize she’s trembling slightly. Her eyes are on the buttons of my shirt, as if those are the most interesting things she’s ever seen.

The realization that she doesn’t want anything to do with me cracks me open. Obviously, I don’t expect her to fall in love with me or even be excited at the prospect of having me as a husband.

It still stings, however. The best I can do is put her mind at ease. That despite everything she heard about me—and I know she heard plenty—I’m the last person she should be afraid of.

“What are you scared of, little wife? Or should I call you Nina?”

Nina gives me the full force of her gaze, and sparks go off in my brain. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

The resignation in her tone tears me apart. “No. You are my wife” —the word feels so damn good on my tongue— “not my prisoner or slave. You tell me what you want or don’t want, and I will respect it.”

Surprise widens her eyes, and she studies my face. I suppress the natural urge to look to the left so she wouldn’t need to stare at the ugly scar on my mouth. I can’t do that, though, lest she think it’s me being dismissive or arrogant. Funnily enough, I never cared what others thought of me. Now, I do. I care what Nina thinks.

Her voice is soft and quiet as she says, “I never get a say in anything.”

White-hot anger pierces through me. Her father, Edmund, is a scum. If I find out he’s treated her less than she deserves, he’s going to regret ever making me part of his family. “Not in my house. From this day forward, you will tell me what upsets you, what displeases you, and what scares you. And I will make them right.”

“W-why would you do that?”

I shrug. “You are my wife.”

Fear crosses her features, and my blood boils at the realization that something in her feels broken. “Y-you’re doing this, so I will lower my guard and give in to you.”

“There’s nothing to give in to. I will not force myself on you, nor will I do things you don’t agree to.”

“So you will not fuck me?”

That single word coming from her surprises the hell out of me. “No. I will not visit your bed unless you want me there.” I cast her a fierce gaze, hoping against hope she would see the truth in my eyes. “The moment you become my wife, no one will ever impose on you again. Not even me. You are under my protection. Anyone who crosses you crosses me.”

Her eyes search mine, and she must see something she likes because her face softens. “Thank you, Nikolai.”

Desire hits me in full force. I have never heard my name said like that. People often say my name with fear, anger, amusement, or pity. On her tongue, it’s like a caress, and it sets off a chain reaction within me.

My heart slams against my ribcage, my muscles tense, and my vision narrows. All the chatter, music, and cutleries tinkling against the plates—they all fade into white noise.

Nina. This woman. My wife.

I will kill for her, but I will also end my own life if she asks.

Goddammit, I am so fucked.