Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Twenty-seven: Alina Starkov

Twenty-seven:

Alina Starkov

Alina had never considered herself to be particularly bold. It was hard to be bold when you had a mother who seemed to hop from one job to the next. When you never knew when the next meal was coming, or sometimes if you'd be in the same school even. Despite the lack of nothing she felt for her father, even she had to admit that her life had become easier when he had taken her in.

At her private school, she was given a credit card to get whatever she needed. Lunch, school supplies, clothes. There was no limit on it. It had felt dirty somehow when he handed her it. Like it was a way to shove her off in the countryside until she was old enough to take care of herself. To force some kind of relationship between her and Nikolai. But technically, she wasn't Alina Starkov anymore. When she stood in that church and married the man they called The War Machine, The Great Dictator, The Soulless One, she became Lady Morozova. The wife of one of the most powerful and feared men in Ravka. She had to be bold.

In the limo, on the way to the country estate, Alina had done things she had never done before. She had let Aleksander use his tongue on her in that wickedly delicious way of his, let him put his fingers inside of her which was not so new...but then she had taken him in her mouth. The man people feared, that said he brought death wherever he walked, had crumbled at her mouth around him and called out her name. There was something about that she delighted in. Watching him crumble all because of the things her touch did or didn't do.

Aleksander did not fuck her in the limo. But he did taste. And twist. And bite, and play. Alina wondered if it was possible for a body to crumble because she was quite certain that he would make her do exactly that. By the time that they arrived at the country estate, she was breathless and needy, and she wasn't sure how she could be so desperate for someone she barely knew. Her husband. Lord Morozova. Aleksander Morozova.

Aleksander smiled at her as the limo pulled to a stop. "We're here."

"Where is here, exactly?"

"My country estate, not far from the Little Palace. One of the old Kings gifted it to my family ages ago, with my great great grandfather. They called him Cerberus."

"Like the hell hound?" Alina said with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly," he said, "because he raised it so often on the battlefield."

"It would seem that military destruction is a running trait in the Morozova household."

He smirked. "You'll be grateful for it."

"When?"

"When you're screaming my name in bed, my dear Little Wife," he said, "do you think I got the name The War Machine simply for my prowess in battle?"

She whacked him in the arm playfully. "You're incorrigible."

"So you've said."

"Come along now. Get out. It's time," said Aleksander getting out of the car.

"Really? Must you announce that I'm losing my virginity?"

He chuckled. "I meant to get out of the car, Alina, so I could carry you bridal style. Although I do rather like where your head is. It is good to know that my wife is excited for the wedding night instead of plotting to kill me like I thought you'd be a week ago."

"I wouldn't rule it out. I might just kill you because you're a----"

He pulled her out of the car and kissed her deeply. "Are you sure you want to kill me, Alina? You won't ever get to kiss me again."

"I hate you," she said with a scowl when he pulled away from her.

He smirked. "It's not good to lie, Alina. Especially when all of Ravka thinks you're a saint from saving the Prince from dying at the hands of your beast of a husband. And this particular beast likes to eat and he is going to devour all of you on our bed tonight." He kissed her again, and this time he wrapped his arms around her waist, picked her up, and carried her bridal style up the steps of what she noticed was a rather, large mansion.

Alina couldn't help but gawk. It was practically bigger than the Little Palace and made out of what seemed to be black stone. The only color coming from the clear windows. Except they weren't really clear, because they seemed to glisten gold even in the fading, sunlight of the early evening. "This is your country estate?"

He smiled. "Really, Lady Morozova, it is our country estate."

"It's beautiful," she said.

He shrugged. "It is a gift bestowed on us from a King for the guilt of my family losing fathers and sons to his war. It is alright. You, however, Lady Morozova, my wife....you are a stunning sight to behold. A vision of loveliness itself---"

"You are a cad," she replied.

He chuckled. "Perhaps. But I'm also you're husband. Now my dear, are you ready to do a little gardening? It is time to make you bloom."

She blushed, he kissed her once more, pressing his forehead to hers, and then giggling like giddy school children all of the way, he carried her to his bedroom. Where he laid her down, and Alina blossomed under his very touch.