As everything reached a fever pitch of insanity, Viktor lay completely under Alia's control. Pressed beneath the weight of her Christian Louboutin heel, he tilted his head slightly. His eyes were clouded with a dizzying darkness, and his voice carried that signature deep, intoxicated rasp.
Provoking Alia further, Viktor whispered:
Viktor: "Hold me down, whisper dirty things in my ear, and make me crave your touch."
The words hit Alia like sweet, lethal venom. She didn't hesitate; she leaned in closer, letting her vibrant orange hair brush against Viktor's blood-stained face. Grabbing his jaw firmly with her fishnet-gloved hand, she prepared to give him exactly what he craved.The "cold-blooded" persona within Alia was now fully unleashed. Hearing Viktor's provocation, a predatory satisfaction flickered in her eyes. She didn't hesitate for a second to execute his command.
She pinned his hands flat against the floor with brutal strength. Viktor's back arched like a bow, his muscles taut and straining with a mix of agony and desire. Alia leaned in, her lips grazing the shell of his ear, her hot breath sending shivers across his blood-stained skin.
In a voice dropped to a lethal, velvet rasp, she whispered into his ear:
Alia: "I'm going to break you exactly the way you asked. Take it... because I wanna fuck u like intiment."
With every touch, Alia shattered the remaining walls of Viktor's self-control. She pushed him to the very edge, a precipice from which there was no return. Between the spiked belt around his throat and her scorching dominance, a new kind of hell was born tonight one where Viktor wasn't just screaming, but begging for every hit she delivered. Viktor's body arched and his hips began to move in a rhythmic, primal sway, driving the intensity of their connection beyond the point of no return. His movements were calculated yet feral, challenging Alia's control over him.
Alia's face turned a deep, burning crimson. Her breath came in ragged, heavy gasps as her "cold-blooded" composure finally shattered under the sheer force of the friction. She gripped his shoulders, her fishnet gloves digging into his skin, as she looked down at him with a gaze that was both desperate and commanding.
Through her heavy panting, she choked out the words:
Alia: "Make me scream until I say no more!"
Her voice was a mix of a plea and an ultimatum. Viktor, seeing her face flush with that exquisite heat, let out a low, dark growl. He didn't slow down; instead, he intensified his pace, determined to push her past her limits until her screams were the only sound left in the 4 AM silence of the Petrov mansion. Alia's "cold-blooded" dominance crumbled in an instant. Her pride and ferocity were replaced by a sudden, overwhelming flood of tears. Amidst Viktor's intense, primal frenzy, she could no longer hold herself together. Saltwater streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat and the glitter on her cheeks.
Gripping Viktor's broad shoulders, she suddenly burst into soft, racking sobs. Her hot breath and the sound of her weeping merged into a desperate plea.
Alia: (In a choked, sobbing whisper) "No more... no more, Viktor... I can't do this anymore... stop..."
Alia's tears instantly paralyzed the "beast" within Viktor. He slowed down to a halt, frozen as he looked at her flushed, tear-streaked face. His sapphire eyes filled with a deep, protective tenderness and a touch of remorse. He used his blood-stained hand to gently wipe away her tears.
Viktor pulled Alia tightly against his chest, as if trying to shield her from the very storm they had created. In the 4 AM silence, the only sound remaining was the soft, fading echo of Alia's sobs. Viktor's devastating persona vanished in an instant. He pulled Alia even tighter against his chest, like a parched traveler seeking refuge. His deep, blood-stained voice broke with a strange sense of longing and affection.
Burying his face in Alia's hair, Viktor whispered:
Viktor: "Mommy, I need you."
Alia's sobs had started to quiet down. She dug her nails into Viktor's broad back and hid her face against his chest. The weight of his total surrender brought a profound sense of peace to her heart. She responded in kind:
Alia: "Me too, daddy."
In the 4 AM silence, a deep sense of belonging filled the room, overriding the scent of blood and pain. The two "devils" were no longer fighting for dominance; instead, they found their very existence within each other.Morning arrived, and the dark madness of the night vanished like mist. Inside the dining hall of the Petrov mansion, a strange, quiet yet heavy atmosphere lingered.
Alia was back in her "cold-blooded" Queen persona. Having traded her glittering fishnet gown for a sleek silk overcoat, she sat at the table sipping black coffee. Though faint traces of the night's exhaustion remained under her eyes, her face was a mask of absolute calm.
Viktor sat directly opposite her, wearing a fresh pair of glasses. He had meticulously hidden the wounds from the night the marks on his neck now concealed beneath a high-neck shirt. He was focused on his phone, his fingers tapping the screen with surgical precision.
The only sounds were the clinking of the coffee cup and the steady rhythm of Viktor's typing. In a voice as cold as ice, he issued commands over a call:
Viktor: (On the phone) "Eliminate those three in Moscow by tonight. And listen, make an example out of the traitors. I want a clean report on my desk by tomorrow morning."
He nonchalantly ordered the hits and placed his phone on the table. Alia looked up, her gaze meeting his. Viktor peered over his glasses and offered her a faint, enigmatic smile.
The two who were crying out to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy" last night were now, once again, the ruthless Emperor and Empress who could make the entire city tremble with a single gesture.Suddenly, Viktor's calm facade shattered. He slammed his phone onto the table, ripped off his new glasses, and lunged toward Alia. His eyes were a volatile mix of last night's frenzy and a sudden, sharp suspicion.
He gripped Alia's shoulders with a bruising strength. His voice trembled, caught between remorse and raw, unfiltered need.
Viktor: "Fuck, baby, I'm sorry. I need you... I fucking need you. Baby, please..."
Alia froze, slowly setting her coffee cup down. The memory of the night's pain flickered in her eyes at his touch. But Viktor wasn't finished. He stared deep into her soul, gritting his teeth as he spat out the question that turned the morning air into poison.
Viktor: "Did you fucking touch her?"
Viktor's jaw was set like stone. His primal possessiveness and jealousy were on the verge of erupting like a volcano. He leaned over her, waiting for an answer, his breath scorching against her forehead.Alia looked into Viktor's burning eyes, unfazed by the bruising grip on her shoulders. A slow, mocking smirk spread across her lips as she leaned back, pulling him closer by his collar.
Alia: "Me? Obsessed with you? Baby..."
She paused, as if savoring the tension, and then referenced her own chaotic thoughts with a teasing rasp:
Alia: "I kissed you—wait, I meant missed* you. Fuck... I actually wish I had kissed you."
Instead of answering his explosive question about whether she had touched "her," Alia flipped the script, trapping Viktor in her own web of obsession. Her admission sent a fresh surge of possessiveness through his veins. Even without his glasses, Viktor could see the intoxicating challenge in her gaze. In the harsh morning light, their toxic chemistry continued to consume everything in its path.