All Chapters of Désiré Me 2: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Eva A heavy, golden silence settles in, populated only by the harsh sound of our breathing which slowly calms down. The sweat that covered us begins to dry, leaving a thin salty film on our skin. I'm sandwiched between them, my back against Sasha's warm chest, my stomach against Niko's. The weight of their bodies is both a burden and a comfort, an affirmation of what has just happened.SashaHis arm is placed under my neck, his large hand placed flat on my sternum, as if to feel the disordered beat of my heart which is gradually slowing down. He feels the fragility of my bones under his palm, the small residual vibration that still runs through my limbs. A wave of primal possession, deeper than simple physical desire, overwhelms him. She is ours. The thought is simple, brutal, and absolute. He has never been a man of demonstrative feelings, but in this moment, the satisfaction of having been his first, of having left an indelible imprint on his body and his mind, is more intense than

ÉvaThe day fades behind the decrepit buildings when they arrive. There is no luxury car, no flashy suit. They are dressed in dark, functional clothing, two shadows blending into the grayness of the neighborhood. They ascend the stinking stairs without a sound. The door to my studio is just a thin piece of wood, an illusion of safety.The lock gives with a dry crack under the tool that Sasha wields with brutal efficiency. The door opens.I am sitting on the bed, curled up. I had been waiting for them, but the reality of their presence, filling the miserable cramped space of my hideout, is a physical shock. The air becomes immediately scarce, laden with their cold anger and power.They do not shout. They do not scream. Their silence is far worse.Sasha enters first. His gaze sweeps the room—the wobbly table, the sink full of dirty dishes, the thin mattress—with such absolute disdain that it burns me more than any insult. His eyes finally settle on me.— Did you think it was over? he as

ÉvaThe day breaks, streaking the floor with pale beams of light. I have not slept. My body is a statue of pain, stiff and cold. Thirst is a fire in my throat, hunger a painful void in the pit of my stomach. But worse than physical suffering is the mental terror, this feeling of having been dismantled, piece by piece, and poorly reassembled.The door opens. It is not Sasha. It is not Niko.A woman of a certain age, dressed in a simple dark dress, enters. She carries a tray. Her face is a blank page, expressionless.—Miss, she says in a neutral voice. You will rise. You will eat. Then you will prepare yourself.She places the tray on the bedside table. A plate of fruit, a glass of water. A feast. An humiliation. I rise, muscles screaming, and drink the water in one go, letting the precious liquid spill down my chin. The woman does not flinch.— The gentlemen are waiting for you in the living room in an hour.She guides me not to the bathroom I know, but to another room, larger, adjacen

SashaThe black orchid is a living insult placed on the table. Each petal is a provocation. I want to crush it under my fist, reduce this poisoned message from Voronin to dust. But I hold back. Destroying it would be to acknowledge its power.I feel Niko's attention on me, cold, analytical. He studies the flower like a problem to solve. I see it as a declaration of war. And you don't negotiate with a declaration of war; you crush it.Days pass, and every minute it remains under our roof is a trial. My need to touch it, to feel it, to ensure it still belongs to us becomes a physical urgency. When I take it, it is no longer just desire. It’s a claim. My body against hers is a barrier, a boundary that no one must cross.— You are mine, I whisper in her neck, burying my face in her hair. Nothing more. Always.She does not respond, but her body answers for her. It’s the only proof that calms me.Then the invitation arrives. “Their companion, Mademoiselle Eva.” Rage burns in my throat. Voro

The balance is broken. My words, "next time, I might not tell you," hang in the penthouse like a sentence. They know. I am no longer their caged bird singing for its jailers. I am a raptor that has tasted the wind and is looking at the open door.SashaShe openly defies us. It is no longer in her silences or her glances; it’s in her words. A blade she has sharpened with the help of that old fox Voronin. My rage has evolved. It is no longer a burning fire but a black ice at the bottom of my stomach. Destroy her? The thought brushes against me, fleeting. Break this beauty that slips away from us. But no. It is our work. My work. I will break her by keeping her.I take her against the bathroom wall, my hands imprisoning her wrists, my body a block of marble against her softness.—Do you think he would want you if you were not ours? If you did not bear our mark? You are merely the reflection of our desire, Eva. Without us, you are nothing. Go back to your misery and see if he follows you.