His Dark Russian Princess

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Chapter Seven

Trigger Warning: this chapter will contain violence, descriptions of assault and blood, and murder. If you cannot or do not wish to read it, I will mark the parts for it.

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Anya, age 19:

The beat of the club pulsed through my body as I wove between the guests at the club and the dancers on the floor, my tray full of drinks. Someone suddenly numbed into me and I was pushed forward, the drinks spilling a bit onto the man in front of me. Gasping, I immediately began apologizing, only to be cut off mid-sentence.

"It's fine." The man turned and I froze. He was gorgeous. Almost as gorgeous as Ras, but not quite. He had a long scar on his cheek, running down to his neck. His hair was a dark brown, the lights of the club making it seem like he had a gold tint to his hair. His eyes were a gentle green, like the leaves on a tree.

Removing the now soaking wet jacket, he sighed and carried it over his shoulder, holding it with his fingers. I couldn't stop staring. He looked like a model.

"U-umm. I'm so sorry about your jacket, I can-"

"I already said it's fine. And anyway, it seems that your customers are getting impatient. It's time for you to go."

Tilting his chin, he pointed at a group of young men that were glaring at me. I turned my head to look at the table and gulped. One of them was smirking and joking with his friends, but his eyes kept looking over at me, giving me a look that sent shivers down my spine.

Turning to apologize once more, I was shocked to see the man had vanished, and I never even got his name. Shrugging my shoulders, I went to the table and finished serving.

~~Trigger Warning~~

Half an hour later, I start to walk out of the back exit for the employees at the end of my shift. I start to walk down the alley to head home to Pooka when suddenly, I'm being grabbed and pinned to the wall of the alley. I try and scream but my mouth is being covered by a hand, while the other starts grabbing at my outfit.

My whole body freezes, just like when I was little. I shut my eyes and my all I can think is "Please. Not again. Not again!"

Suddenly, Pooka's first words ring through my head. "Do you want to live? If you truly want to live, fight back. That's the only way you will survive. Fight back. Don't let the pain consume you."

Those words ring through my head as I remember everything Pooka has been teaching me. All the self-defense moves, pushing my body until I thought I was going to collapse, learning how to find my opponent's weaknesses.

Guessing by how hard I was being pinned to the wall, it was only one person. Their body strength was stronger than mine, but I could use that against them if I was smart.

Jabbing my elbow back, the person behind me grunts in pain as I elbow him again until he let go of me, only to receive a swift kick to the gut.

Spinning to face my attacker, I'm not surprised to see that it's the same young man that was watching me as I worked and had made the end of my shift so uncomfortable. I glared at him, a shiver running down my spine as I met his eyes and saw the murder and anger he held.

"Little cyka. I'll fucking kill you!" He growled and rushed at me, aiming a punch at my face. I smirked and blocked it, only to gasp in pain as he punched me in the gut with his other hand. I coughed and tried to keep from bending over, but failed miserably when his hand grabbed my hair and smashed my face into his knee. I cried out in pain, only to gasp as my head is yanked back, his hand in my hair.

His grip brought tears to my already watery eyes, my hair feeling like it was being ripped out as I'm shoved against the floor. The force behind his push simultaneously knocks me off my feet and knocks the breath out of my lungs, leaving me gasping. Before I have the chance to catch my breath, his body is on top of me, hands around my throat, choking me. I gasp and reach my arms for my thigh, the small dagger Pooka gave me for self-defense just out of reach.

I gasp and thrash, my back getting scratched and torn up by the rough concrete. My vision goes white for a moment as the man punches me, my head going dizzy and allowing me and him to relax. Before I'm even able to get out of my daze, I feel my fingers graze my knife and I grab it, pulling it from the sheath and jamming it as high and as hard as I can into the nearest part of him I can reach.

His scream rings through my ears as I stab him again and again, my grip on the knife getting slippery as I feel warm liquid run down my hands and arm, the scent of copper filling the air. I flinched as I felt his blood fling onto my face, but I didn't stop stabbing. I need to live! Slowly his screams fade to gurgles, and his body weight collapses against me.

I gasped for air as the grip on my throat loosened, feeling warm liquid coating my body and soaking my skin, then it slowly started to cool in the autumn night air.

I cough violently as I struggle to get the air into my lungs, pushing the man's body off me and leaning to the side, throwing up at the thought of what I had just done.

I just killed a man... What will Pooka think..? What would Ras think...?

As soon as I thought of Ras, my body trembled, and my vision went black. I didn't feel the impact of my body hitting the concrete as my arms gave out, nor the pain as my face scraped against the ground. The last thing I heard was the sound of footsteps and a phone starting to ring.

I can't believe I just killed someone. I thought just as everything faded into nothing.

~~Trigger Warning End~~

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Anya, age 22:

I groaned in pain, mumbling in my sleep and calling for Pooka. Why do I feel like I have a hangover? Coughing a bit, I groaned and fumbled around the bed, reaching for my bedside table to grab my glass of water, only to find a warm wall against my fingers.

My eyes flew open to look over and see Ras, staring at me and watching me. His face was calm, but his eyes were cold, almost glaring at me as if I had committed an unforgivable sin.

Wait.. did he hear me call for Pooka? Fuck!

"Good morning, Anya. You seem to have slept well." He leaned in close, his body rolling until he was hovered right over the top of me, his forearms placed by my head.

"Tell me, Duchess..." he leaned in closer, my eyes widening as I panicked, my body going tense under his. His nose slowly grazed my jaw, his breath tickling my neck and throat.

He groaned softly in my ear before abruptly pulling away from me, my head spinning from the proximity and his scent.

Mint and cigarettes. How can he still smell so good, after all the blood he's shed? It's a fucking crime.

"Who is Pooka. And why were you calling for them?" His voice took on a hard edge, the same one he had when he was pissed. When I was younger, I used to fear making him mad. But now, I couldn't care less.

Too bad for you Rasputin Gregory. I'm no longer the foolish girl I was. And this time, I'll be the one to take everything from you.

I sat up, gasping as I looked down and saw I was in nothing but my underwear. The nerve of this bastard. I lifted my head and glared at Ras. "Where am I? And where the hell are my fucking clothes?"

I watched as Ras smirked, his eyes still cold and menacing. "Answer my question first, and I might answer yours." I glared at him, throwing the covers off and storming up to him. I was taller now, the top of my head reaching his nose. But I still felt small compared to him.

"I have no reason to answer you. You think that just because I'm alive, I'm going to forgive you for everything you did. I won't. I'm going to kill you. And watch you rot."

The more I spoke, the more hurt and anger came out into my words, almost taking control of me. Stepping back for a moment, I glare up at his stupidly handsome face, studying him.

His black hair was still soft, I could tell that just from looking at it. His angular face was still sharp, but it looked worn as if he hadn't slept properly in years. His eyes had slight bags under them, not too noticeable if you hadn't studied him before now. His lips were a permanent frown, any traces of the rare smiles he used to give me, were now long gone. His eyes were empty and dark as if he lost all manner and purpose to live.

He looked as miserable as I was. And for a fleeting second, I wanted to make him feel better. But as soon as the feeling came, it passed. This was the man who took everything from me.

The next thing I knew, my hand was flying at his face, a loud slap resounding through the quiet room. I don't know if he anticipated it, or truly didn't see it coming, but he didn't react or try to stop me. His head turned to the side a bit, the skin where my hand landed already red and turning darker by the second.

His jaw clenched, his hands forming into fists before he turned and stormed towards the door. "That will be the first and last time you strike me out of anger, Anastasia. The next time you strike me, I'll make sure you won't be able to sit for a week without my assistance."

I gulped, understanding the threat behind his words. A shiver ran down my spine, making me even more aggravated at how my body still craved and submitted to him, even after the hell he put me through.

"Oh, and one more thing." Ras stopped with his hand on the door, refusing to turn and look at me. "Whatever tricks you plan to use to escape, don't. Because the next time I catch you, you won't be able to escape again."

Those words were finalized with him opening the door, then slamming it shut. My legs gave out the moment he was out of the room, my hands gripping the floor.

Memories were flooding my brain, sending me back, reminding me why I can't forgive him, even if my heart still ached and missed him. I couldn't take it, the conflicted feelings I had to suppress all while he had been right there.

He could never know how weak I truly was to him. Because he would use it to bring me back to him.

Fine. You want to play with fire Rasputin? Then be prepared to get burned.
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