Beastly Passions (12 page)

Asha gave a jerky nod and angled forward to capture his mouth again.

However, he moved out of reach.

Taking his other hand from her hip, he placed it lightly around her throat and applied a slight pressure on either side that made her oncoming climax almost dizzying in its intensity. “Want to watch,” he gruffly explained.

The drop of her husband’s lids, combined with the gritting of his teeth and the near crazed brilliance of those azure irises only served to escalate the addictive sensations rushing her. Asha’s mouth opened, but no sound left and then a burst of white-hot satisfaction lit every fiber of her being as she came.

She dropped forward against Taras and gulped in air. He kissed her temple and nuzzled her ear. When she finally stopped shaking, he backed up until she stood on her own again and moved to the table where their meal had been forgotten.

“Now,” he asked in a voice that showed absolutely no sign of being influenced by lust in the least bit. “Which side of the table do you prefer today?”

Positioned there, the inner workings of her sex still convulsing, while full of some unidentifiable emotion, Asha realized how much she truly
did
hate him.

Eight

It was 
such a soft sound, but it disturbed him. If he were being completely honest he could admit that it didn’t take much to do so. Taras hadn’t lied when he’d told Asha that he rarely slept. Predisposition and neurosis had killed his ability to be still for so long. So what he’d heard in the supposed quiet surrounding him, hadn’t changed his state of rest, it simply made him all the more attentive. A step. It was a step. Several more followed and then the bathroom door from his wife’s side crept open. A glance at the clock to the right of him showed the time to be just a half an hour away from sunrise and Taras wondered what could have stirred her from sleep. Between the two of them, she rested well. He’d cracked the door between them on many nights, just to be sure that if nothing else, she enjoyed at least that much about her room.

The faucet sounded on and off quickly and then her steps tittered back in the opposite direction. He waited for the compression of springs and fabric to greet him but it never came. He did, however, catch the creak of the patio doors as they opened. Ever the feline, he couldn’t lie there and simply let it go. He needed to know what she was doing! He threw his duvet back and rolled from the bed, tugging at the waistband of his pajama bottoms as he headed for the bathroom door. Seconds later and he emerged on the other side, standing there as he watched her curl lazily into the rattan couch at the corner of the terrace, placing her chin onto her knees.

He probably should have left her the way he’d found her—unbothered and seemingly at peace, but the draw he had to her, the magnetism that failed to keep him away wouldn’t be ignored. What, exactly, was he doing? What did he think would come of one favorable meal? What did he 
want 
to come of it?

Asha had willingly spent a few hours in his company, draped in the vivid color of maroon; a beautiful fabric he’d come to associate with the dusky complexion of her skin with her hair swept away from her face. She never held his gaze for too long and for a few minutes she seemed as though she felt out of place, their unspoken truce having changed the tension between them. The silence had thickened until Taras could take it no more and asked if she’d like to hear a bit about the history of Primorsky Krai. Her eyes lit with interest and Taras gave her a detailed chronicle about the place of his birth as well as a few nuances about his ancestry.

His wife listened to every word, intermediately asking questions that he’d answered happily. Time was briefly forgotten and they’d lost themselves in a conversation that hadn’t ended with her threatening to toss an entire tray of food over the balcony. It was progress to say the least. And when he was called away to deal with the grievances of business, she’d been gracious enough to walk him to their shared door, standing there with expectation in her expression, her mouth still swollen from what they’d done, the cupid’s bow tempting him more than the smell of her on his skin. He’d been powerless to do anything else aside from kiss her like it would be the very last time he was given the opportunity, because as far as he was concerned, it may have very well been.

She stumbled away from him once he’d released her and told him to have a nice day. Then she’d done a prompt attempt at a haughty turn to walk away but wound up bumping into the door on her way out. Taras had stood there for several moments afterwards, his cock hard and heavy as he absorbed the lingering notes of her scent, the memory of her smile and how she’d occasionally leaned forward, giving him surreptitious glances at the dip in her neckline and the brown swell of her cleavage. It was almost laughable how easily she led him to distraction.

He’d gotten a chance to look his fill and it had taken every ounce of willpower he’d garnered over the years fight back the inclination to sink his canines into her flesh. He wouldn’t take that choice from her, no matter his own desires.

When she’d stood before him, her chest heaving, her eyes flashing fire as her aura had changed, his cock had begun to immediately respond. There were fewer things more hypnotizing than the way Asha’s mouth moved when she was speaking and he’d been entranced by every gods-damn word; even while she was essentially calling him a thoughtless philistine.

Touching her, watching her come, had been his greatest pleasure. Leaving her, his greatest regret. He’d been forced to stay away from Verochka land for much longer than he wanted and by the time he arrived home, Asha had been in bed. Disappointment at missing another opportunity to prove them both to be liars prompted him into going to bed.

They’d had one good day together, he’d thought to himself. He’d been able to engage her, keep her interest, hold her there and soak up all those beguiling things within her that capture him.

So why, in all fuck, would she want to taint it by spending more time with him? For this, he didn’t have an answer. But he could no more return to his own room than he could pretend as though they hadn’t connected on the most basic of levels.

He cleared the doorway, stepping into the cooler air and watched as her head jerked up and turned in his direction.

“Unable to sleep?” he asked for lack of anything better to say.

She cleared her throat and focused on the scenery. “Not anymore, no.”

Taras hovered between remaining where he was and asking if he could join her. He finally settled on
deciding
he would join her. Without much thought, he took a seat next to her as close as possible.

Asha gave him a droll look. “Why yes, Taras, why don’t you join me? I’d like the company.”

“Excellent,” he murmured, getting comfortable. “I’m glad that the sight of me pleases you.” And to add a touch of obnoxious behavior, he threw an arm over the back of the couch.

She made a low grumbling sound. “You’re invasive.”

“And you are difficult,” he volleyed back. “Are we not quite the pair?”

“We’re…something,” Asha hedged. “What, I’m not sure.”

“Married. We are
married.”

“I’m well aware of this.”

“And yet, I sleep alone.”

“For good reason.”

“Which would be?”

“I prefer a good night’s rest without being harassed by the hysterical tyrant next to me who seems to be unable to act without contradiction.”

“But you are somehow
here,”—
Taras pointed to the ground—“as opposed to receiving a good night’s rest in bed that you are so determined to enjoy in solitude. Irony at its finest. And while we are on the subject, I do not harass. I cajole. I charm. I would even go so far as to say I enamor, but I never harass. I also do not deal in hysterics, nor am I a tyrant. Whatever contradictions you see come solely because of what I receive in signals from
you,
wife.”

“You bulldoze. As has been your way from the very start.”

“Bulldoze?”

“
Yesss,”
she hissed, turning towards him. “You did it just yesterday when I
thought
I could manage to find a way to productively use all of the free time I now have on my hands. I wanted to complete an analysis that I could later implement and use to find work.”

Taras frowned. “Why would you work?” Taras waved a hand about. “We have no need for money and we never will.”

“Because I. Need. Something. To. Do.” Asha gestured around. “House and land or no,
that
is the objective here.”

He considered those words. “So then you’re…bored?”

She tucked in her lips and plucked at the belt on her robe, avoiding his stare.

Could that truly be it? It hadn’t occurred to Taras that this would happen being that she had several cars at her disposal along with a trustworthy team of men to look after her should she want to leave the property and spend time away, doing whatever interested her. There was even a moderately sized helicopter and pilot on standby. A boat that she could enjoy the luxury of. All of these things and still, she wanted to work.  

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? I would have—”

“I’m an adult, Taras. I fully recognize that you cannot entertain me on an hourly basis,” she interrupted.

“An adult who has been limited to what’s around her.”

Her eyes slid to the floor, seemingly suddenly interested in the wood. “I have found things to occupy myself.”

He gave her a once over. “Your research?”

Her small shoulders rolled. “It’s all I have until I can find a purpose. Along with this there are programs, puzzles…”

As if any of those things could possibly gratify a mind such as hers. One that never seemed to stop analyzing, 
probing, 
the world around her. Her natural curiosity was being stifled and he was at fault. He couldn’t shape their world into that of a Disney story, however he could at least satisfy her thirst for insight. If nothing else, she deserved that much.

“But it is not enough,” he uttered once her voice had trailed off. “That won’t ever be enough for you.”

“I’ve accepted things as they are. I cannot change the world around me into the one I knew, this I understand, so I’ve chosen to adjust.”

Which meant she wasn’t happy. Nothing about this place, about the pretty things, had made her happy. But he should have known this would be the case. He should have understood that he couldn’t insist that she was far more than a trophy and then tuck her into a case that he’d had specially designed, always to be left alone unless he wished otherwise.

“Adjust?” Taras demanded. “Why adjust when you can have more, do more?”

Asha’s stare suddenly sharpened, taking on an edge of annoyance and confusion as her brows drew downwards. “Why?”

He returned her bewildered expression. “Why what?”

“Why do you care at all? Why is my joy and whatever interests I may have so important to you?”

Because he liked to lie to himself. He liked to cling to frivolous thoughts that she could eventually come to accept her new life, accept 
him. 
Taras liked to sit by himself and contemplate on nonsensical fantasies that didn’t consist of placing his father’s head on a platter. In his idiotic delusions, he spent his days creating things that would change the face of technology while his significant other contentedly balanced the internal affairs of his business, her discretion and tactful nature artfully changing the way he was viewed.

“You cannot return to your previously abandoned martyrdom if you have things to delight you, now can you?” Taras flippantly asked instead of admitting those things; those stupid, insipid, weak things. Because what more would she do than give him a pitying look? “It would be a comfort to know that excursions beyond what you see here may placate any compulsion to take up your cross once more.”

Asha’s jaw worked and she closed her eyes as she shook her head. “Do 
not 
categorize me as a vapid, tedious house pet who you feel you should show some form of affection in order to stop me from running away from home when the backdoor is left open unintentionally. All it truly makes me want to do is slice your throat wide open, in much the same way you did your cousin’s. However, I’d avoid the staining of my claws and use the nearest, sharpest tool at my disposal.”

Tilting his head at an angle, Taras considered those words. So…detailed. Her declaration came as no surprise. Gods knew he’d already suspected that she’d rather see his hand severed than bound to hers in matrimony. “You’ve contemplated this before.”

“Yes,” she murmured. Her lids parted and he glimpsed nothing but complete candor stamped across her perfect face. “But I’d tucked those thoughts away after concluding that absolutely no good could come of them. What a difference a night makes.”

He moved towards her a fraction and whispered, “Would you like to know a secret?”

Asha seemed to be waiting.

“I think I have preference for this side of you,” he volunteered. “The vicious bite you cover. The venom hiding behind gorgeous mouth.” Taras lifted a hand to cup her jaw. His thumb swiped across the bottom rim of her lips and she attempted to jerk away but he held her fast. “I have no need for shrinking violets or pretty house kitties looking for scratches under chin, wife. Rest assured I see you as neither, but as intricate mind with much to offer and little to receive. So I don’t coddle you or participate in self-immolation and pity. I would rather experience the cut of tongue than horrible, heavy cloud of discontent and uneasiness.”