King of Envy: Chapter 26

In my defense, I was a little buzzed.

Okay, it wasn’t really a defense, but it explained my courage in messaging Vuk first when I’d been eyeing my phone all week, waiting for him to call or text.

It was a little pathetic, but it was also exhilarating. He was the first guy I liked enough to care whether he called. I’d finally entered the club of people who gushed and obsessed over their crushes. It made me feel normal.

My alcohol ban had flown out the window that morning when I joined Maya for bottomless mimosas at brunch. We hadn’t talked about Vuk, but seeing how unapologetic and badass she was made me want to say fuck it and take matters into my own hands.

I’d left brunch, booked a suite at the nearest hotel, and waffled for hours before I finally texted Vuk. I was currently wearing a hole in the carpet while I waited for him to arrive.

The wedding was in two weeks. My family was set to arrive in a few days, which meant this was my last weekend to myself until the ceremony.

It was now or never.

There was a heavy knock on the door.

I paused, my breath stalling in my lungs. Another knock snapped me out of my frozen state, and I counted to three to calm my nerves before I opened the door. It didn’t work.

The sight of Vuk’s frame filling the doorway sent those nerves into hyperdrive again. He wore a black sweatshirt and black pants, and droplets of rain peppered his skin. It was the most casual outfit I’d ever seen him wear.

I liked it even more than the tuxedo. It was more him.

“Hi.” I hated how breathless I sounded.

“Hi.”

A soft smile touched my mouth.

It was stupid, but I collected his words the way I collected perfumes and shoes. They glinted like precious stones in the sand, proof that he trusted me enough to communicate with me openly when he didn’t have to. He simply chose to.

“Come in.” I opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “I’m sorry for the last-minute, um, invitation.” I couldn’t think of a better word. “Did you eat already? The hotel supposedly has great room service.”

My rambling melted beneath Vuk’s visible amusement.

You said you wanted to talk. About what?

“Anything.” Really, I wanted to talk about our kiss, but it seemed uncouth to jump straight into a thorny subject when he’d just arrived.

I walked over to the table by the window and poured a glass of water. It gave me something to do with my hands.

“So,” I said lightly. “Attended any bingo nights lately?”

Vuk gave me sardonic look like, Really? That’s what you want to talk about?

Which was fair, but it was the first topic that popped in my head. I was still fifty-fifty on whether he was lying about the bingo.

No. I figured I’d give the seniors a break from losing.

“Wow. Beating a bunch of eighty-year-olds must be thrilling.”

Winning is winning.

Of course he would say that.

“Would you bring me to a game sometime?” I asked. “I haven’t played bingo in forever.”

Are you asking because you really want to play or because you don’t believe I do?

“Both.”

A hint of a smile pulled on his lips. Good. Never take anything anyone says at face value.

I shook my head. “That’s a sad way to go through life.”

Maybe. But it might also save your life.

Vuk came up beside me. I wordlessly handed him the water. He took it, his fingers brushing mine in the lightest of touches.

I felt it all the way in my bones.

I studied his profile. It was carved out of stone, its chiseled planes and remote coldness a convincing mask for the world. Every once in a while, that coldness lifted and offered a glimpse of the man underneath.

It happened more often than it used to. He’d shared more of himself with me than I’d ever expected, but there was still so much I didn’t know. His past, his fears, his hopes and dreams.

Our physical attraction to each other wasn’t a question. It was the emotional part I craved. He’d been there for me during some of my worst days this year, and I wanted to offer the same shelter for him.

Trust was a two-way street.

My gaze skimmed past his burn marks to meet his eyes. He was already watching me.

Vuk set the water back on the table. Ask me.

My gaze snapped to his. “About?”

What everyone wants to know. I’ll answer.

My heart thumped. There was only one question at the top of everyone’s mind when it came to him.

I searched his face, trying to gauge whether he was really okay discussing the issue or if he was simply humoring me.

But Vuk was Vuk. He wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

The story behind his scars was a mystery to the general public. Jordan refused to talk about it, and no one dared ask Vuk directly. Rumors ranged from the realistic (it was an accident that got out of hand) to the fantastical (Vuk was a former CIA member who’d been captured and tortured by enemy forces).

I suspected the truth fell somewhere in between.

Gray light slanted through the windows and painted his face with shadows. He didn’t respond for a long moment. When he did, he spoke haltingly, his voice rough. “I had an…encounter with some old acquaintances after graduation. It left me with these.” He gestured at his face and neck and paused again.

I waited patiently.

“I was celebrating with my brother the night after my graduation ceremony,” he finally continued. “Lazar hadn’t gone to college. He’d never been interested in school, but he was damn proud of my achievement. We were at home, drinking, when they broke into the house. I had something they wanted. I refused to tell them where it was—if I did, they would’ve killed us anyway. So they tied my brother up and tortured him.”

Horror smothered me, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

Vuk recounted the events with clinical detachment, but an ember of deep-seated rage glittered in his eyes.

“I fought them off the best I could, but they had the element of surprise. They set fire to the house to cover their tracks. By the time I overpowered them, it was too late. The fire spread fast, and just like that, it was over. My house, gone. All my personal belongings, gone. My brother…” His throat flexed. “Gone.”

His expression remained stoic, but I heard the anguish in his words.

My chest cleaved in half. “Vuk,” I breathed, too stunned to formulate a proper response.

I’d assumed his brother had died of disease or an accident. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed the truth. The sheer brutality of it was unthinkable.

“The only reason I survived was because I left him.” Vuk’s tone was bleak. “I tried to save him, but he got trapped by a fallen beam. I couldn’t free him. He said it was too late for him, but I still had a chance of surviving. He told me he’d never forgive me if I stayed. So I left him to burn.”

It was obvious he was still beating himself up over that decision. I didn’t blame him. Guilt had a way of outpacing everything else, even logic. Especially logic.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “If you hadn’t left, both of you would’ve been trapped.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say “died.” The thought of never meeting Vuk—of him not even existing anymore—made my lungs squeeze.

He swallowed again. “Perhaps.”

“What happened to your…acquaintances?” I asked. He said he’d overpowered them. What did that mean?

Vuk’s expression didn’t flicker. “Justice found them.”

It was a callback to our earlier conversation at Valhalla.

Wentworth vanished. Do you happen to know anything about that?”

No. But I imagine justice found him.

Goosebumps coated my arms and shoulders. He wasn’t talking about the police.

I didn’t ask him what his idea of justice was; I didn’t want to know.

I placed my hand on his without thinking. He glanced down, his shoulders tightening, before he let out a small breath and gradually relaxed again.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said softly. “I know it’s not easy.”

It sounded like a platitude, but I meant every word. Our relationship had undergone several shifts over the months, but this was the biggest one so far.

He’d opened up willingly of his own accord, and if that wasn’t a sign of trust, I didn’t know what was.

It meant more to me than any gift could.

I’ve never told anyone the details of what happened before. Not Jordan. Not my staff. Vuk switched back to signing before he added in a low voice, “Just you.”

Warmth unspooled in my chest. “Why me?”

“Ayana.” My name sounded like a prayer and a curse on his lips. “You know why.”

The air shifted. His words wiped away the melancholy and replaced it with agonizing awareness.

The mutual knowledge of our kiss bloomed between us, sweet and aching. I’d watched enough movies to know affairs were supposed to be passionate things, filled with fire and impulse. There’d been plenty of that at Valhalla.

But this? This was an entirely different form of intimacy.

Vuk was so close I could see every detail of his scars. His shoulders blocked out the rest of the room, and I had the heady sense that nothing existed outside this corner of space.

It was just him and me. His presence filled every molecule of air and lit me up from the inside out. It was like I’d been in hibernation and his proximity was the switch I needed to come alive again.

My pulse beat frantically at the base of my throat.

This was how I was supposed to feel toward my fiancé, not his best friend. But when it came to Vuk, I’d abandoned “supposed to” long ago.

I reached up and gently touched the burns encircling his throat. The thick, raised skin seared into my fingertips.

He said his brother had been the one who’d been tortured, but the pattern of the burns told me he’d left out crucial details of the story—like how someone had wrapped a rope around his neck and set it on fire.

Vuk must’ve escaped soon enough that it didn’t cause permanent vocal damage, but the evidence of what happened was clear.

“Does this hurt?” My question was a whisper in the silence.

Vuk’s jaw tightened. He shook his head.

I trailed my fingers up his neck and over the line of his jaw.

His eyes were aloof, but his throat moved with a visible swallow when I reached the scar next to his mouth.

I brushed my thumb over the puckered skin. “What about this?” I asked softly.

Another, slower shake of his head.

Other than my voice and the drumbeat of my heart, the air was so taut, a mere breeze could snap it in half.

The drumbeat grew louder.

I kept my eyes on his as I leaned in and slowly, gently kissed the corner of his mouth. My lips lingered on the scar, and I wished I could wipe away the pain and hurt that came with it.

I didn’t have that power. This was all I had to give—the possibility of creating new memories to replace painful ones.

A shudder ran through his body.

I leaned back. My gaze remained locked on his as I reached for my engagement ring and slid it, inch by inch, off my finger.

It hit the carpet with a soft thud.

Darkness swallowed Vuk’s eyes.

He didn’t move. He didn’t touch me. But his hands curled, ever so slightly, into loose fists when I slipped my cardigan off my shoulders.

It drifted to the ground and landed on top of the ring, obscuring it from view.

I was left in nothing but a short, silky dress. No shoes, no sweater, no diamond.

My heartbeat was so loud it drowned out everything else.

There were a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t do this, but they all paled in comparison to the reason I should. Being with him was the first thing that’d brought me true joy in a long, long time. If I didn’t take this leap, I would never forgive myself.

If that meant I was selfish, then so be it.

“Don’t.” Vuk’s voice was ragged.

Don’t. He’d told me that before, and I believed him as much then as I did now.

The evidence was in the way he looked at me—like it physically hurt him to lay eyes on me, but he couldn’t bear to look away because that would hurt even more.

I called his bluff. “Then leave.”

He stayed.

Lightning cracked outside. The glass was cool against my back, but I was burning up.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, srce moje.” His voice was lethally soft.

Srce moje. I didn’t know what it meant, but the sound of it pooled inside me with languid warmth.

“You told me once to stop saying sorry,” I breathed. “I will if you stop telling me what I should want.”

“And what is it that you want?” A dark edge slid beneath his words.

More goosebumps erupted. A flame pulsed low in my stomach, hot and heavy with need.

I’d lost my words when he asked me a similar question at Valhalla. They flowed easily from me now.

“You,” I said. Unapologetic, unabashed. “I want you.”

Whatever thread of control he held on to snapped.

Vuk moved so swiftly I didn’t have time to draw another breath before I was pinned between the window and the hard, unyielding muscles of his body. His mouth claimed mine, and I parted eagerly for him, drunk on his taste and clean, dizzying scent.

My hips canted up to press shamelessly against his arousal. His fingers dug into my hair; my hands gripped his shoulders. Urgent breaths panted between us, fanning the liquid fire in my veins.

I didn’t care where we were or who saw or what happened after. This kiss was a revelation, at once brutal and worshiping, and I couldn’t get enough.

Vuk nipped my bottom lip. The sharp sting throbbed in my core. “What else do you want? Do you want me to fuck you, Ayana?”

Oh God. The dirty roughness of his words poured pure lust on an already raging fire. Wetness pooled between my thighs, and I nodded, my mouth too dry for words to pass.

He groaned and said a thick word in Serbian before he grasped the hem of my dress and shoved it up around my waist. My head fell back, and I let out a small whimper when his fingers found the drenched evidence of my need.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I want you to fuck me.” I gasped when he pressed against my core. Pleasure raced through my blood, drowning me in heat.

There was no room for coyness. I was too hungry for something to sate the hollow, aching space between my legs.

“Look at how wet you are.” He pushed my underwear aside and rubbed his thumb over my slick, swollen clit. “So fucking greedy for my cock, srce moje.”

A desperate sound wrenched from my throat. I tried to grind against him, but he forced my hips to still with one hand while he teased me with the other. Rubbing, stroking, killing me with alternating featherlight caresses and merciless touches.

Pressure built, then abated, then built again in an endless cycle of edging. I wasn’t wet anymore; I was soaked. My juices dripped down my thighs and clung to my skin, and I probably looked like a mess. Legs parted, hair undone, the picture of wanton abandon.

“Please.” My hips bucked again, but I couldn’t find enough friction to end the torment. “Vuk, please.”

He groaned. “Open your mouth.” A trace of strain edged his otherwise controlled voice.

My mind was so hazy, I obeyed without protest. A moment later, he pushed two drenched fingers into my mouth. The sweet, tangy taste of my arousal flooded my tastebuds.

I let out a muffled cry of shock. My skin flushed hot with embarrassment, but beneath that was something else—a darker kind of desire. A craving for more.

“Do you taste that, srce moje?” Vuk’s eyes burned into mine. “That’s the taste of your need for me. Not anyone else. Me.” He pushed his fingers deeper. I choked, my eyes welling with tears. “You’re mine, Ayana. I teško onom koji pokuša da mi te uzme.”

He withdrew his hand and reached down. I groaned when he finally, finally slid two fingers inside me. They were still wet from my spit.

It’d been so long since I’d had sex that even two fingers was a stretch, but the initial discomfort soon melted into mind-bending pleasure.

I clenched around him, desperate for more. He wrapped his other hand around my throat, using it as leverage while he finger fucked me into a trembling, sobbing mess. Every thrust in made me see stars; every drag out made my head spin. I was so wet that obscene squelches echoed through the room with each brutal thrust.

My juices ran down my thighs with abandon, but I was flying so high I barely noticed. I’d never experienced such exquisite uninhibitedness. Never trusted anyone enough to let them see me like this or let myself go this fully.

It was intoxicating.

Vuk squeezed my throat, gentle enough not to hurt but hard enough to make me moan. He was the only thing holding me up at this point; my limbs were useless, and my brain was mush.

Even so, I had enough presence of mind left to gasp when he slowly slid a third finger inside.

“Oh my God.” I panted at the renewed stretch. “That’s too—I can’t…oh, fuck.” The squeal when he buried all three digits knuckle deep inside me couldn’t have possibly come from my mouth.

It was too needy when I was already stuffed so full I could hardly breathe. I squirmed. The sensations from the resulting friction destroyed any lingering protests I might’ve had. A fresh whimper escaped, even needier than the last.

“Yes, you can,” Vuk said calmly. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought him unaffected, but his desire was clear in the pale pink flush decorating his cheekbones and the dark tenor of his voice.

“Look at how you’re gushing all over my hand.” He lowered his mouth next to my ear. “Do you wish it was my cock fucking you so deeply, hmm?” He withdrew and thrust all three fingers into me again. Hard. I cried out and clawed at his shoulders, silently pleading for more. “Do you want me to push you up against this window and take you from behind for the entire city to see?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” I sobbed and chanted in sinful prayer. “Please.”

“Listen to you.” Vuk’s mouth skimmed down my throat. He paused at the curve of my neck and sank his teeth into the tender flesh, marking me. Claiming me as his. The act shouldn’t have turned me on as much as it did. “You sound so pretty when you’re begging me to make you come.”

It was too much.

His touch, his mark, his filthy words—they formed a fireball low in my belly, and my orgasm detonated. I convulsed around him, my cry of release sharp and keening. The rush of pleasure was so intense, the world seemed to collapse beneath its weight. I collapsed with it as my mind and body fractured into a kaleidoscope of sensations.

Wave after wave buffeted me. I was a thousand pieces of confetti fluttering in the wind until the tide finally eased, and I slowly drifted back to earth.

I slumped against the window, my breaths ragged.

Vuk pressed a kiss to the top of my head, released my throat, and pulled his fingers out of me with a slick pop. He dropped his forehead to mine, his breaths equally unsteady. His steel-hard erection pressed against my stomach.

“You didn’t…”

“Come?” I heard the ghost of a smile in his voice. “No.”

“I think we can take care of that.” I was still swimming in the languorous aftermath of my orgasm. Emboldened, I reached for his belt buckle, but he stopped me with a hand around my wrist.

I looked up, confused. A trickle of trepidation seeped through my chest at his serious expression.

“Call off the wedding.” Soft desperation ran beneath his otherwise cool command.

My stomach dropped.

The mention of the wedding wiped away my post-coital warmth. A chill swept in and tore through my lungs.

“I can’t,” I whispered. The words tasted bitter on my tongue.

Vuk’s expression flattened, and the chill intensified. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

I shook my head, emotion tangling in my throat. “You don’t understand.”

How could I explain my situation to him? I was already in too deep. The wedding was in two weeks. As much as I wanted Vuk, I couldn’t leave Jordan high and dry like that. I’d signed a contract, I’d made a promise, and I owed him.

But…maybe there was a way I could be with Jordan in public and Vuk in private.

Vuk dropped my wrist and stepped back. He signed his response. Then help me understand.

He’d turned aloof again. Remote. How had the situation changed so fast? His visit was a rollercoaster of emotions, and I couldn’t keep up.

I straightened and fixed myself up while I tried to gather my thoughts into some semblance of coherence.

“I…” I faltered.

I couldn’t tell him about my arrangement with Jordan. It was Jordan’s secret more than mine, and I wasn’t going to share it without his permission.

Even if I went back on my word and canceled the wedding, what good would that do? I’d need Vuk’s help to get out of my contract with Beaumont, which meant I’d be trading one debt for another.

I trusted Vuk. He would help me, and I didn’t believe he would hold that assistance over my head. But it would still be a power imbalance, and I refused to ask someone else to swoop in and take care of my problems. That was what had landed me with Beaumont in the first place.

At least with Jordan, it was a mutually beneficial agreement. He needed me as much as I needed him.

I had to solve my dilemma on my own. I owed myself that much.

“Jordan and I have an understanding,” I finally said. “We’re not in love with each other, but we agreed we could…see other people…” I trailed off again at the storm gathering in Vuk’s eyes.

“If you’re not in love, then why the fuck are you getting married?” he asked.

I released a shaky breath. “I can’t tell you, but there is a reason. I promise.”

I hated this. I knew we’d have to have this conversation eventually, but it was even harder than I’d imagined.

The worst part was, I understood where Vuk was coming from. If I were in his place, I’d be confused and pissed too.

I was the one who went to him after the Wentworth incident. I all but asked him to kiss me at Valhalla, and I’d invited him to a hotel before my wedding. Of course he thought I would call things off with Jordan.

Guilt shimmered beneath a slick coat of misery.

I’d allowed myself to be selfish for once, but that was the thing about doing what you wanted—the high didn’t prepare you for the inevitable crash.

“So you’re talking about an affair.” Vuk’s voice went soft again. This time, there was no gentleness, only derision. “Is that why you asked me here? To see if I fucked good enough for you to keep me on the side while you live out your high society dreams with Jordan?”

“No!” Tears stung my eyes. “That’s not why. I want you.”

“But you won’t leave Jordan.”

“I can’t,” I repeated brokenly.

A tear escaped and slid down my cheek. Vuk tracked it with his eyes, his jaw hardening into steel.

Beneath his icy demeanor was something worse than derision: hurt. And I was the one who put it there.

Grief cinched my chest. I couldn’t draw in enough air to battle the overwhelming tide of self-loathing, so I stood there, my face wet with regret, while Vuk’s head dipped toward mine again.

“There’s one thing you should know about me, Ayana,” he said, his breath grazing my ear. “I. Don’t. Share.”

Then he was gone.

The door slammed, and I was left all alone in the cold again.