Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen (7 page)

As she turned to tap his chest and wake him, she found Dmitry staring at her. His eyes sparkled like polished diamonds in the night. Barely blinking, he pulled his hand from behind the pillow and placed his gun beside her on the nightstand.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, rubbing her back. "Another nightmare?"

Her voice whispered out. "Yes… " she cleared her throat. Butterflies erupted instantly. It baffled her how such a thing could happen so many years into their relationship. He still made her feel like a school girl.

"Are you afraid? Here, come and lay beside me. You're shaking."

"It wasn't about Ivan—not exactly," she said quickly. "It was more about you."

"Me? My love, I'm fine," he said finally, devouring her with a hungry, insatiable look. "But I could be better." He ran his hand down the side of her arm. Goose bumps formed. It made him smile. At least she still reacted
somewhat
to his touch.

The look in her face was sheer agony. Dmitry could see it, even in the darkness. He pulled her closer to him and pushed her long, wild hair out of her face. She looked absolutely breathtaking, even in her frantic state. Her caramel skin glowed in the darkness. Her full lips were pouty and in desperate need to be kissed. The gown had fallen over to the side of her arm, revealing the round orb of her full breasts, and suddenly Dmitry could feel the heat rising inside of him.

"I had a dream that Ivan killed you," she bit out. "He killed you, and he killed Anatoly in a lake. It was on fire." She tried to catch her breath. "He came out of the water, and he killed you both, and I had to watch. He… he was never dead, just waiting for the perfect time to strike."

Dmitry sat up in the bed a little straighter. Royal was clever. She could have found a way to overhear his conversation with Anatoly earlier, but it was highly unlikely. And the look in her face warranted that of true concern and sincerity.

He ran his hands through his golden locks and groaned. He didn't need this right now. He was hoping that she had come to make love to him, to ask him to make love to her—not to warn him of some strange portent.

"Sweetheart, Ivan is dead," he pleaded, trying to reason with her. His voice was as soft and sympathetic as always.

"I know that," Royal snapped. "But it felt real. It felt… "

"No," Dmitry snapped back. His temper reared its ugly head. "Enough of this!
Ostanovit
. He's dead, and he's not coming back!"

"I know," Royal said with tears in her eyes. "I just… "

"I have had enough," Dmitry's voice raised. "I want you to stop this. I can't take it anymore."

Royal shook her head. Tears ran down her cheeks. "If you would just listen for a damned minute!"

Dmitry got up from the bed and snatched his jogging pants. Slipping them on, he turned on the lamp and walked around to face her.

She looked at him concerned and wide-eyed, clueless to his sudden anger due to his excruciating sexual frustration.

He gritted his teeth. "I have a meeting tomorrow. My helicopter will pick me up first thing in the morning. When I get back… "

"Is it on a lake?" she interrupted.

"Listen to me,
zhenshchina
," he said sternly. "When I get back, you and I are going to go back to therapy. You aren't getting better. You're getting worse and I can't… "

"I'm not getting worse," she protested. "I came in here to tell you that you must be in some sort of danger… "

Dmitry talked over her. "You're getting worse and paranoid. I want this to stop. I'm calling the doctor and… "

"You're not listening to me!" she protested again, trying to push past him.

Dmitry blocked her. "Listen to me!" He grabbed her and shook her. "I want my wife back, damn it." He pushed her body against the bed. She fell over on the mattress.

"I haven't gone anywhere," she said crying. "Take your fucking hands off of me, Dmitry!" She tried to wheedle away. "I… I hate you!" she cried. "I came in here to tell you that you're in danger. I came in here to warn you, but you won't listen to me!" She kicked her feet.

"I have been listening to you! Every night for three years, I've been listening. And it's always about Ivan. It's like you mourn him. I can't stand it. I hate it almost as much as you hate me and Anya," he growled as he leaned in between her thighs.

Royal gasped as he held her down. She stared him in his eyes. He was only a hair away from her face. She could feel his hot chest against her body. "I don't hate my baby?" she cried. "I love Anya. She's all I've got in the world."

Dmitry was in shock. He let her go and backed away. She lay on the bed with her legs wide open, gown pulled up to her waist and visibly shaken. The sight made him instantly think of the rape. He was sure it had made her think of it as well, but her words were what destroyed him.

"After all that I have given you, you think that all you have in this world is Anya?" he asked in sheer disbelief.

She sat up in the bed. Wiping the tears from her face, she pulled her gown strap up and sniffled.

"I know that you don't love me, Dmitry. I'm just a burden that you have to bare, because I have nowhere else to go." Her bottom lip quivered. "That's why you brought Victoria here. To replace me, at least on some levels."

"Victoria? Fuck her. She's just a teacher. She's here to teach Anya. I don't give two shits about her!"

"Then why do you look at her like you do?"

"Like what?"

"Like you used to look at me," She cried. "Like before Ivan."

"I barely see her. I don't have time to look at her."

"You'll find time, won't you? You brought her here to take your mind of what I am."

"Did I?" He shook his head. "Just what the hell are you, Royal?"

Royal looked down at her shaking fingers and swallowed hard. Well, she had told Anatoly that when Dmitry brought it to her attention, she would deal with it. It was evidently time now.

"I am a drunk, addicted, crazy bitch that you accidently knocked up and was forced to marry because otherwise someone would kill me, even though you couldn't possibly want me anymore after your brother fucked me like a two-dollar whore in every God-given orifice I had, after he had broken my nose, cut me, beat me, stabbed me, sodomized me," she shook and cried. "How could anyone ever want me again? Especially his own brother, his own blood? You'd have to be insane to want me."

The breath caught in Dmitry's lungs. Sweat formed on his forehead. To hear her say those words was the purest form of torture. He exhaled finally, breathed out and deflated into a near nothingness. "Is that what you've thought? This whole time since we've come to Prague, you've thought that I saw you as damaged goods."

"I know you do. You buy me all this stuff to keep my occupied and away from you.
Royal go to shop. Royal go to city. Royal find something to do,
" she mocked him.

"I know the kind of woman you are. You are independent. You like to keep busy. I thought I was helping." His voice had lost its fury. He talked nearly in a whisper now.

"I know you detest the way that I look, but I try my best to cover it," she touched the scar on her neck. "I know that you must think about what he did every time that you touch me." She looked down. "Even now, just to be close to me is so… repulsive. And it's okay. I understand." She wiped the tears from her face. "Because I repulse my damned self. I can barely look in the mirror anymore. I can barely stand to be in my own skin. That's why I take pills. The more I sleep, the higher I am, the less I have to deal."

"Royal, no… " Dmitry said in a whisper. "But why all of sudden in the last year have things gotten so bad? Why haven't they been this bad the whole time?"

Royal tried to smile. "My little Anya really is beautiful. She's the most," she wiped tears from her cheeks. "She's the most beautiful girl that I've ever seen in my entire life, but you know, I just kept waiting for her to change –to look more like her daddy or even me. At her last birthday party, I realized that she'll always look like him. Shell always remind me, Dmitry."

"And that set you off."

"That and a hundred other things. Seeing the scars every time I take off my clothes. And you know just about six months ago my foster mother passed away. I read the newspaper there online every day. She was listed in the obituaries."

Dmitry sighed. He didn't know.

"I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sure she knew that you loved her."

"And then there's me. Overall, I just feel like if I don't have my defenses up, if I'm not being a bitch at every moment, then someone will just take advantage of me again. It's hard to explain, but it's the truth." She shrugged her shoulders and spoke in a broken voice. "I'm all messed up, Dmitry. I'm not the same girl anymore. I… I don't know who I am."

In the shadows of the dark room, Dmitry let the tears fall down his eyes. He wiped them quickly and grunted as he looked up the ceiling.

While he wouldn't tell her, he had been waiting for the moment when she would let her guard down and tell him what was wrong for a year now. In fact, he had just told Anatoly earlier that day how heartbreaking the entire situation had been for him of late. But now, he wasn't sure if he was ready for the truth.

How had he missed it? How had he not seen how badly she had been damaged? All of this time, he was focused on the way the she behaved, not looking deep enough to see how open the wound still was for her.

His massive shoulders hung in defeat. He had failed her again. This time, he had done so miserably.

"I have blamed myself for your rape for so long," he confessed. "After all, it was my brother, my blood, my sins that caused this." He took a deep breath. "I have wished so many times that things could have been different—better for you." His voice was deep, low and pained. "And worst of all, I thought that because of these things you didn't love me anymore," he smirked. "I actually thought
I
repulsed you."

Royal was shaking now, covered in tears, quivering and alone. Somehow she thought it would feel better to confess her self-contempt, but now she only felt worse. And if it were possible, she felt even more ashamed.

She avoided making eye contact, keeping her eyes on the ground. God only knew what he must think of her now that he knew she was a certifiable basket case.

"I've always loved you, Dmitry. Don't be stupid," she said coldly.

Walking over to the bed, Dmitry leaned in and scooped her up in his arms. He put her on his lap and cradled her, determined to keep the walls down that they had finally broken through tonight.

"Look at me," he said, pulling at her chin. "Hey… look at me."

She looked up nervously. He moved her long wild hair from her face and rubbed his fingers over her lips.

"How? How do I get you to see,
zhenshchina
?" Dmitry asked, kissing her forehead as he held her in his arms. "You are the best part of me." He whispered husky baritone words in her ear. "Everything that is good in my life is good because of you. There is nothing more than you. There will never be anything more than you. What Ivan did to you doesn't make you any less of a woman; it made him less than a man. And you are still the most beautiful woman that I've ever seen in my life."

"You don't have to say that, Dmitry," she said, still trembling.

"It is truth, Royal. I have never stopped wanting you. I never stopped loving or desiring every part of you whether it is your best or worst day or day in between. I don't care. You are my wife. You have been my wife since first time I make love to you, way back when you were just young girl. Now, as a woman, I love you more. I need you more than I need to breathe."

Royal looked up astonished at his words. Her mouth was open. Tears ran down her face on her neck and collarbone. "Do you really mean it, Dmitry?"

"Baby, yes, I mean it." He wiped her tears. "All this time, I thought it was me. I thought you hated my guts."

"It's never been you," Royal said, looking down. "I'm always so damned angry or so scared. I can't control how beside myself I get. Some days I just feel like I'm going to crack. I guess part of me just can't believe that he's dead. It's like he's going to just pop out of the closet or kick down the door when I least expect it. I mean I know that he's dead, but it doesn't feel like it when I dream about him every night. It's like I'm going crazy." She shook her head. "You don't know how badly I want it to go away. I don't want to feel dirty anymore," she cried.

Dmitry listened quietly, berating himself for doing such a poor job of being her husband. He had stripped her from her friends, torn her from the reach of her country, and he had all but abandoned her here in this large mansion with no one to confide in knowing she had been diagnosed with rape-related PTSD.

"I thought that you were going to leave me," Royal said softly. She looked up at him. "It's been bothering me since that woman came to my home. I don't know what I would do if you left me."

"Royal, I don't want Victoria at all." He shook his head and put his forehead on hers. "I'm not going anywhere for a long, long time."

Dmitry smiled. "All I want is you." He rubbed her cheek.

Royal shook her head, tears still flowing. "I'll try to be better," she said sincerely. "But it's going to take time. There is something wrong with me, Dmitry."

"Well get you some help, together. When I get back, I'll go with you. I'll sit through every session. I'll hold you every night until the nightmares go away. I'll do whatever it takes. I promise."

Royal did not speak, but there was a visible burden lifting off her shoulders that showed in the brightness of her eyes. Dmitry noticed the change in her face, how the frown seemed to be not so permanent. Could it be that she had hope? He prayed that she did.

Unable to control himself, he pulled her chin towards him and kissed her soft lips. She tasted like scotch, but he didn't care. Kissing her slowly with passion enough to make her feel faint, he ran his hands through her matted hair, down her neck to her soft, silky shoulders and stopped at the orbs of her warm breasts. Then he paused to see.