Beastly Passions (21 page)

Finally, she couldn’t take anymore and shouted out, “Taras Verochka, that is enough! I have actual work to do and no time to waste with your foolishness! You come out and take me back to the main house
right now
!”

Taras stared at her from where he stood, ankle deep in the lake, his head tilted at an angle as he listened to her yell.

She pointed to the ground. “I mean it. Out. Now.”

With an audible sigh, he left the embankment to drudge her way, his coat glinting under the steady stream of the sun. He then stopped before her with his eyes wide and discontented.

“I understand what it is that you want from me,” Asha softly said. “Right now isn’t the time to get it.”

He woofed.

“I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, but—
what the hell, Taras
?!” Having gone completely still in utter horror, she took a glance down at her now soaked apparel—which had once been a pristine cream colored blouse left to comfortably fall over dark jeans. Why was it no longer pristine? Because her spouse, her exasperating, tactless, cretin of a spouse decided to stalk forward as close as he possibly could in the middle of her tirade and do an all over shake that left her totally covered in water.

Task of ruining her life accomplished, he backed away, put his head to the sky and chuffed in what was clearly incomparable joy. Asha looked from him, to her clothing and back again. It was at that moment that he lowered his maw and it spread wide into what she literally thought to be one of the most infuriatingly wicked grins she’d ever had in her sights. She stared at that grin. She stared at it until she wondered how she could remove it and send it to the deepest recesses of the underworld itself. The answer came in a manner of seconds and she found herself stripping down to her bare skin. Taras looked on in obvious vindication. It lasted all of a minute, swiped clean when Asha launched at him with her claws extended.

He ducked low and shot out of her way, taking off. She followed, nipping at his ears and flank; something that she 
knew 
he hated. Turning abruptly, he shoved his shoulder into hers, sending her skidding over the sand and softer parts of the Earth. She dug her paws in to keep her balance, but before she could retain it, he shoved her again. Asha went tumbling down into the quiet waves and came up sputtering. Again, she found him just feet away, overcome with laughter at her expense. Snarling, she found her footing and used the power in her legs to hurl herself his way. She landed on his back and buried her claws into the fleshiest parts of his large, shifted form.

Taras gave a short roar in agitation and tried to dislodge her by running about in an effort to shake her loose. However, she stayed with him, managing to hang on. Inevitably, he tired out with the added weight latched onto his frame and collapsed on the soft, lush, grassy land nearby.

Exhausted also, Asha decided to untangle herself from him and roll onto her back, allowing the sun to warm her belly as her feline side was so inclined to do. She’d just fully settled into her languid state when a very human hand took to rubbing her chest. A delighted sound rolled from her throat and she turned over to her side, summarily shifting back.

“And what are your feelings on my foolishness
now
?” Taras questioned as he slid his hand over her clavicle.

Lips twitching, she simply said, “Quiet, beast.”

Her husband only chuckled and leaned forward to press his mouth to her jaw. “You fight me even when I’m completely right.”

“I fight you because you’re distracting me from my work,” she murmured.

“Work can wait.”

She opened her eyes. “No, it cannot. I have to have the resumes you gave me read by Friday so that I can begin interviews at the start of next week.”

“And I will be more than happy to help.”

Quickly shaking her head, she pointed at him. “No.”

Her husband frowned. “Why not?”

“Because you’ve already done more than enough, Taras. If I’m to have this position, I need to earn it. And that includes doing my own tasks; no matter how tedious.”

He sat back and eyed her. “What makes you feel as though you have not earned what you have?”

“You gave it to me.” She waved her hands. “All of it.”

“You’re my wife.”

“Which is 
why 
you gave it to me.”

“No,”—he held up a finger—“it is because you are my wife that I did not run you through irksome questioning. But that is not the reasoning behind giving you the position. I did this because I have extensive records of your work history and know that you have experience and efficiency that I have yet to witness elsewhere.”

Asha rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “I’d like to be respected. I’d like for the others to know that I don’t intend to sit on a throne and watch them perform.”

Taking her by the waist, Taras moved her while sitting up, only to make her straddle him. “Who, exactly, would think to be rude or insolent towards you?”

“That is my point,” she answered, poking him in the chest. “You cannot fight all of my battles for me.”

He snorted.

“And no matter how valued it may make me feel to know that you’re willing to, I have to be able to stand on my own merits, Taras. This is now my pride also. I want them to respect me because it’s what they genuinely feel and not simply due to their healthy fear of you.”

Taras grinned. “You believe my pride is fearful of me?”

She gave him a pointed look.

He chuckled and pressed his finger to the tip of her nose. “You are adorable.”

Asha slapped it away. “Don’t mock me.”

“This isn’t mocking, but honest amusement. My people have no fear of me. Are they cautious in actions and words? Yes. Do they defer to my opinion before making decisions that could affect us all? Of course. But they’re not afraid. They have no reason to be. Alexei and Mischa should be clear sign of this. Those idiots go about blissfully ignorant of my contemplations to bury them alive each day that we cross paths.”

Beginning to smile, she nudged at his stomach with her fist. “Be nice to them. I find them entertaining.”

“Because you possess the patience to tolerate their inane ramblings about their beauty.”

“
That,
my husband, is what makes them so entertaining,” she replied. “And aside from them, everyone else gives you a wide berth. Despite what you say, you make some of the pride a bit restless.”

“It is good for general morale,” he told her. “Sometimes places are forgotten when others get too comfortable.”

“I want them comfortable with me. I want them to feel like they can discuss their issues and concerns with us.”

“Listen to me,” Taras said, cupping her face. “Your fears, while natural, are unfounded in this particular case, Asha. My people—our people—do feel this way. In time you will learn who they are collectively as well as individually and establish your niche among them as whatever you want to be. Whether that is someone who sits on throne or someone who regularly knocks others unconscious in passing.”

She started to climb off of him.

He laughed and held her in place. “Teasing. I am only teasing.”

“I wish everyone would let that go. It was an accident.”

“That will never happen. Mischa has jaw like stone and you were able to put her on her ass without even giving real effort. That alone has gained you more respect than you know.” He angled her way and placed his forehead to hers. “And for everyday that you can tolerate the sight of me, that esteem grows.”

She twisted her lips and nuzzled him. “You’re not 
too 
awful.”

Her husband wasn’t awful at all, actually. He was wonderful. Insanely, ridiculously wonderful. And that was just in bed. 
Out 
of it, he was generous and considerate and assertive. When he told her no to something, he meant it. However, he always had an alternative that satisfied the both of them and assuaged a few of her worries. Since starting as his analyst, he’d been as involved as she allowed, giving her the space to move about and make choices on her own as he’d promised. When she spent too much time toiling away behind her desk he was the one to ensure that she ate. Sometimes it was takeout from restaurants that catered to her tastes. Sometimes it was something that Magdalena had sent over from the kitchens. He’d spread out a blanket on the floor of her office and firmly place her onto it with instructions not to move until she’d finished almost everything on her plate.

His concern over her happiness was consistent and he never strayed very far away from her side. It was an unfamiliar thing to have someone take care of you when you’d spent so much time and effort meticulously handling the details of several other lives. Through all of her anxiety and lack of composure, he remained as aloof and unruffled as he’d always been. At times it could be off-putting, but Asha had grown to understand that Taras was as he was because he didn’t know any other way. He tried. Often.

He attempted to balance out the coolness with his consideration. Was he always successful? No. He was still closed in other ways and secretive. Tense and unbending. There were pieces of himself that he wouldn’t reveal. Things he would not tell her no matter how she asked. However, during moments like this, when he’d been able to predict just what it was she needed without her having to say a word of complaint, Asha didn’t fault him for his shortcomings; just as he didn’t fault her for hers. She could be bullheaded and as difficult as he claimed. It seemed to be an ever-going battle of wills between them when she wanted her way on a particular matter and he refused to be moved. And she’d recently begun to explore her spiteful side. This consisted of her locking him out of their bedroom after he’d done something to piss her off. Such as when she’d asked him why he no longer played the violin and his reply had been unnecessarily waspish. Unfortunately, she’d come to realize quickly that she’d forgotten who it was that she’d married and Taras Verochka was hardly willing to allow a door to separate them for any amount of time now that he’d gotten the pleasure of no longer having to sleep alone. They’d had to replace a doorframe just last week. It was as humorous as it was foolish. But she loved every minute of it. And perhaps she was beginning to discover that she might love Taras also—which was too terrifying of a thought to dwell on so she’d started sweeping it aside whenever it crossed her mind.

“Just awful enough, I think,” he suddenly said, fingering her hair away from her face. “You don’t seem particularly worried about how abhorrent I am.”

“That’s because I’ve grown used to it.” She caught his hand and interlocked it with hers. “And your attempts to intimidate me only fail miserably.”

“Intimidate?”

“Yes, intimidate.”
Asha lowered her voice by several octaves.
“The only thing you should fear from this palm is its promise to flush fleshiest part of your ass red like favored scarves if you
ever
again act as carelessly immature as you did earlier.”

He gave her a droll look. “This was not intimidation so much as it was a warning to ensure you behaved.”

“Behaved? I am not a—”

“Child? Yes, I know. Because you have reminded me at least once an hour since taking up residence here,” her husband finished. “Your adulthood does not cancel out how incredibly troublesome you can be.”

“Och! How dare you? Me?
Troublesome?”

“Yes,
you.
Troublesome. And self-willed. And also, a bit cold if we are naming qualities.”

“We’re not.”

“But as I have come to notice, you’ve calmed a great deal with the introduction of myself and a little structure.”

She blinked. “Are you
trying
to get me to claw your eyes from their sockets?”

“As if you could ever be quick enough to attempt this.”

Lifting a hand, she showed him its slow transformation. “Do you really wish to find out?”

He eyed it. “Not necessarily. I just enjoy antagonizing you because when we fight, it leads to rough, pleasant fucks.” His gaze slid to her breasts. “And with the way your nipples look…”

Asha slapped at his shoulders and forced her way out of his lap. “You’re a reprehensible being.”

“But you want me no less.”

It was true and some marginal part of her hated him for it. She couldn’t
stop
wanting him. Over the last week or so, the agitation in her seemed to only grow. It was a constant, resilient heat at her core that couldn’t be quelled. The more she had of him, the more she needed. It was a weakness. Asha had never been one to focus so much of her energy on appearing unaffected to the outside world, however Taras caused what seemed to be a never-ending desire to be as composed as possible because he
would
exploit her sexual vulnerabilities if absolutely necessary.

“Tell me, Asha,” Taras rasped from just over her shoulder, having moved to stand behind her. “Am I reprehensible because
you want me? Or do you want me because I’m reprehensible?” He circled her. “We play games. Throw words back and forth, but I never see true disgust from you. I never scent the smell of distaste on your skin. Even when I’ve done things to warrant it, all I can recall is mild surprise and a host of discomfort, but not a true aversion to me. Why is this?”