Throne of Vengeance (Throne Duet #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,17

assault of the memories. That’s the last thing I need in this situation.

Focus, Rai.

Facing him, I speak in my sternest tone. “I want separate rooms.”

He doesn’t even lift his head, and I’m not sure whether or not he heard me, so I repeat, “I said, I want separate rooms.”

This time, he stares at me as he unbuttons his shirt, his fingers gliding on the buttons unhurriedly, almost like in some strip show. “And I want you to remember. Sadly, we don't always get what we want, Princess.”

“If you expect me to share a room with you, you’re crazy.”

“What’s so crazy about a married couple sharing a room?” He stalks toward me, his shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing the snake tattoo that’s rippling against his chest muscles. “Have you forgotten that we’re married?”

“I don’t remember that so you’re simply a stranger, and I can’t share a bed with a stranger.”

He halts in front of me, somehow caging me between his frame and the door. Kyle pauses at his fourth button, hinting at his chiseled chest, but not exactly showing it. And now I’m staring at his chest. Jesus.

I snap my head up, but if I thought his face would be easier to stare at, I’m proven utterly wrong. Maintaining eye contact with Kyle is like swimming against a violent current. I know I’ll probably drown or hit my head on a rock, but I still carry on anyway.

“Perhaps I should refresh your memories, Princess.”

“What?”

He grabs me by the arm and spins me around. I gasp as he gently pushes me backward and I end up crashing on the bed. The mattress is soft at my behind, but the impact feels like that current from earlier throwing me down a crushing waterfall.

Kyle hovers over me, his thighs on either side of mine as he grabs my wrists and imprisons them atop my head. I attempt to fight, but he’s caging me so tightly I cannot even begin to escape his brutal clutches.

I try to lift my knee and hit him in the balls, but he smirks as if figuring out my intentions and keeps my thighs pressed down with his legs. “Easy, tigress.”

Huffing, I turn my head away. I need a break from being caught in his gaze. Besides, this position and the familiar bed only remind me of the ludicrous things he did to my body night in and night out.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Kyle asks in a low, slightly husky voice.

“No.”

“Right. You lost your memories.” He gently clutches my chin and forces me to face him. After he makes sure I’m staring at him, he slides his thumb beneath my bottom lip. “The first time I saw you was about nine years ago. You attended this Swan Lake performance by some European ballet with Nikolai, because he was infuriatingly Russian and liked to show it even in ballet performances. Adrian was there, too, because he’s interested in that for some reason or another. You had your arm in Nikolai’s and you wore gloves, white, like your dress. It was long and bright in the light, which reminded me of a distant image I thought I had long forgotten. Angels. Not real ones, but those from my father’s favorite painting. You were speaking animatedly to Nikolai and Adrian, discussing the performance. Your grandfather had laugh lines around his eyes as he listened to you. Do you know what I thought back then?”

My lips have been parted the entire time he’s been speaking, trapped in the calm way he retells our first meeting. I remember that day, because even though I thought he was another one of Dedushka’s ‘killers’, I was somehow caught in the gleam in his eyes, the way they darkened as if he were empty and trying to drag everyone else into that emptiness.

“No.” Instead of snapping, my voice is as calm as his. “And I don’t want to know.”

“I thought you looked like a typical mafia princess,” he continues, as if I haven’t said anything. “But I was soon proven wrong when I heard you talk to Nikolai. You weren’t spoiled or acting like a brat with privileges. You were straightforward, knew what you wanted, and went to it.”

“Telling me about the past won’t make a difference.”

“Yes, it will. How else are we going to get familiar with each other again?”

“Why should we?”

“Because you’re my wife and I’m no fucking stranger you’ll sleep separately from. If familiarity is what you need, then I’ll give it to