The wedding

Anya’s POV

As a little girl, I had always imagined my wedding. The long beautiful white gown, strangers drooling as I walked down the aisle to meet a man who looked at me like I was the miracle he prayed for.

 

But here today, that was not the case.

 

The white gown I was wearing only seemed to itch me, just standing close to Nikolai had me cursing under my breath, and yet I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with this man—a very short time I guessed.

 

The priest begins in Russian. I barely hear the words. My pulse pounds against my ears.

 

Do you take this man?

 

I almost laughed.

 

Nikolai Vetrov was not a man, he was the devil. It was no secret that the Vetrovs were cannibals; their bloodline had produced some of the most monstrous men in Russia.

 

“You may now place the ring on the bride’s finger.”

 

Nikolai looked at me. “Give me your hand, Anya.” He says solemnly.

 

I refuse to move, fear crippling me. If I got past this stage, there was no going back; I will be married to him for life. The Bratva doesn’t know divorce; the only way to leave the marriage is in a body bag.

 

Nikolas closes in and lifts my hand, I yank it back. He growls softly. “You are making a scene, Anya.” He whispered to me in a voice that scared me.

 

I turned to the audience; this was a gathering of men who took lives for a living, some of the most dangerous people on the planet. I met my father’s eyes; it bore a warning as always. If this marriage fails, he will shoot me himself.

 

“Козёл” I cursed silently in Russian, giving him my hand.

**

 

We were back at his place, it was my first time in the Vetrov mansion. It was his personal room; Nikolai didn’t even have the decency of offering me my own room, I have to share the same space with the man who I loathe with all my heart.

 

“Why do I have to stay in the same room as you?”

 

“It is for your own protection, Kiddo.”

 

I frowned when he called me Kiddo; I remember him calling me that four years ago, I didn’t like it then, and I still don’t like it now.

 

“Stop talking to me like I am a child.” I said between gritted teeth.

 

“But aren’t you, Anya? What are you now? Twenty?”

 

“I am twenty-one!” I yelled.

 

“Kiddo.” He chuckled. “I have some business to attend to, I will see you at night,” he added as he walked away, leaving me cussing in that room.

 

I turned to the bed and my heart raced. I will kill myself, before I let that man touch me again. I quickly used the pillows to divide the large bed.

 

I sat on one side of the bed for hours, but Nikolai didn’t come back. What was he doing out there?

 

I knew how messy Bratva business could be and knowing that he could go out one day and never come back brought me some relief, but the one thing worse than being a Bratva wife is being a Bratva widow.

 

Finally my husband returned late at night, he looked exhausted but he concealed it with a solemn face.

 

I sat up on the bed the moment he walked in.

 

“What is this?” he asked, pointing to the bed.

 

“We might be married, Nikolai; for the sake of our families, but we will not have a relationship. You will stay on your side and I will stay on mine, if you even as much as breathe in my direction, I will stab you in the chest.” I warned him.

 

He stared at me silently, before casually saying, “Okay.”

 

And then he walked to the other side of the bed and lay down, using his hands as a pillow under his head and crossing his legs.

 

I was baffled. Okay? Just like that?

 

“What are you doing?” I asked, as I turned to him.

 

He looked towards me on his left. “You said I should stay on this side, didn’t you, wife? I promise I will not touch you unless you come over to my side first.” He smiled.

 

I scoffed. In his dreams!

 

“Well you are not going to go to bed dressed in your wedding suit, are you? And why do you have your shoes on? At least take a shower!”

 

Nikolia laughed, turning to lie on his elbow. “What do you care what I do on my side of the bed, Wife?”

 

“Stop calling me that!” I protested.

 

“You don’t want me to call you wife or kiddo, so what do you like? Should I call you Mistress?”

 

“You!” I clenched my fist, gnashing my teeth in rage.

 

He wore that smug smile on his face that made me want to punch him.

 

“Aren’t you a hypocrite? You still have your wedding gown on.” He pointed out.

 

It was then that I remembered, I had been so concerned with making sure that nothing happens on our wedding night that I haven’t bothered to take a shower or change out of my wedding gown.

 

I huffed and lay back on the bed, turning my back to him. Soon I heard Nikolia stand up from his side of the bed.

 

I slowly took a peek at what he was doing. Standing at one end of the room, he had taken off his suit and pants, I immediately looked away, not wanting to stare, or at least be caught staring.

 

But seconds later, I couldn’t resist taking another peek. He was now bare-chested and my jaw dropped at the sight of his body.

 

The last time I saw him without clothes, he had only the Bratva tattoo; the twin stars of a Vor v Zakone on his left chest; stars that marked him as untouchable in the Bratva.

 

But now his entire upper body was covered in ink; Dragons and demons. I know those tattoos. No, it was not the Chinese Triads; this… this was Irezumi, a traditional tattoo style belonging to the Yakuza; the fucking Japanese Mafia.

 

Was that where he had been these past four years?

 

I was stunned. Why would a Bratva Don wear the mark of another syndicate?

 

“There is not enough hot water for two, but we can share,” Nikolai’s voice shook me out of my thoughts.

 

“Huh? No way I am bathing with you!”

 

He laughed. “Suit yourself then.”

 

He walked back into the bathroom and I cursed. Fuck, I hated to bath cold water, and now he was going to make me do it.

 

My eyes lingered towards the half-open bathroom door, wondering if he still had that weapon between his legs. My memory from four years ago was foggy, but I knew his lower body was part of the things that drove me crazy back then.

 

When he got out with nothing but the towel hanging low on his hips, I felt my throat dry up. The steam coming off his tattooed body was so hot; he had gotten more muscular than four years ago.

 

His shoulders were broad, veins tracing down his forearms, his skin tanned with lean muscles, his abs were divided into eight and with each breath, his chest rose and fell slowly.

 

I swallowed saliva. Fighting back the thoughts in my head.

 

“Don’t sit there and eye rape me, go take a shower and change out of that.” He spoke casually, his cold voice sending shivers through my body.

 

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him. I felt the urge to defile his orders, show him that he was not the boss of me, he does not own me like he thinks, but at what cost? My own discomfort?

 

After bathing, I came out to find him sleeping on his own side of the bed. He was in bed with no shirts on, just his sweatpants. So he baths hot water and then goes to bed in sweatpants? What monster was he?

 

As I changed into my nightwear and turned back to him, an idea crossed my mind. It was a foolish one but I acted on impulse.

 

I picked one of the pillows and tiptoed to his side of the bed. I tried to press it down on his face but his eyes shot open right that moment and he caught my hand.

 

Before I could scream, he flipped me over, pressing my hands above my head on the bed, his body pinning me down.

 

“Trying to kill me on our wedding night, how cute.” He growled, now fully awake

 

I lay there with my heart racing, realizing what a foolish thing I had done. I just tried to murder a fucking Bratva Don under his own roof. He was not going to spare me now.

 

T. B. C!!