DALLIUS ALEXANDRONOVICH SERGEVEV'S POINT OF VIEW
"Sashaaa! Here's the clothes—holy hell?!"
A woman's loud shriek jolts me from the fog of unconsciousness. I try to open my eyes but the sting is too sharp, matching the ache that runs through every inch of my body.
What happened? Am I still alive?
I sense someone close beside me. Something clatters to the floor nearby but I stay perfectly still, feigning sleep. I have no idea who's around me.
"B-Why?!" Another woman shouts—this one is right next to me.
"H-Holy moly! Your husband is so hot, Sasha!!!" The first woman squeals loud enough to make my head throb.
What the hell? Are all women this dramatic? Russian women carry themselves with more restraint than this.
How do I know they're Filipino? I understand every word they say. I speak their language fluently; the woman who raised me was Filipino, and her culture became part of mine.
"Look at you! Those abs look good enough to eat. How was your first touch on all that hard muscle?"
See? Filipinas are wild. Their words leave nothing to the imagination.
"Are you out of your mind, Andeng? I don't even know this man—how could he be my husband?"
Husband? Who's married to whom? Their voices grate on my nerves. If I were in any shape to move, I might have silenced both of them for good.
"You helped him carry here just a little while ago."
"Stop with your fantasies, Andeng. This guy might strangle me the second he opens his eyes."
"Why would he do that?" The woman called Andeng asks.
"Look at him—he's covered in scars. For all I know I just dragged a murderer onto our island. He could snap any second." The woman beside me says.
She's not wrong. I'm capable of far worse than she can imagine.
Andeng laughs so hard I swear my eardrums will burst. Annoying.
"Come on, Sasha. You overthink everything. Maybe he's just really athletic—all those scars from sports or something."
Sasha... so that's her name. Sasha.
"Besides, he might not even remember who he is. The waves washed him up against those rocks out front—his head could've hit anything."
I pause at that, considering her words. She has a point. I'm lucky to have all my limbs intact.
How long have I been here? I think she said only a few hours. Earlier, then.
Percival is probably still in the middle of our plan. Not that I can do anything in my current state. Just being alive is a miracle.
"You've been reading too many of your books, Andeng. That only happens in movies." Sasha says.
"What if I'm right though? What if he wakes up with no memory at all? Then what, Sasha?"
Sasha doesn't answer. I can tell she's caught off guard by the thought.
Amnesia...
Maybe I can use that. Buy some time until Percival finishes his part. I know the second phase of our plan isn't done yet. Letting this woman Sasha take care of me would be smart.
I'll stay here until I'm strong enough to contact him. I can't leave until our act is complete.
"Stop it already, Andeng. Go check on your husband before he gets mad at you again."
"Please—you just want him all to yourself."
So they've noticed how I look. Not surprising.
"Fine, fine. But don't forget to clean him up properly."
What?
Sasha says nothing so Andeng keeps talking.
"All of him, Sasha. Every inch! What if there's a fish stuck in his underwear or something? That'd be a disaster."
I'd be gaping if I weren't pretending to sleep. Filipino women have no filter whatsoever.
Damn. I can already picture my days with these two. They'll drive me insane.
"Lord help me. I'm definitely losing points in heaven for this." Sasha whispers.
I feel her shift closer, then move over me entirely.
What in god's name is she doing? I want to open my eyes and see what she's up to but I hold still. Now isn't the time.
But fuck—my body reacts to the cold, stiffening against my will.
"Idiot! What are you doing?" She mutters to herself.
Seriously? Does she have rocks in her head? I picture her looking like some kind of mess—maybe a squid, with how clumsily she moves.
I've met women like this before. The type who throw themselves at attractive men without a second thought.
Innocence doesn't exist in this world.
She's quiet for ten minutes. Then I feel her fingers on the zipper of my pants. I bite back a reaction as pressure builds below my waist.
For fuck's sake! What is she doing?! She moves so slowly it only makes the ache worse.
I hold myself in check as she works my trousers down my legs, finally exposing my boxers and the obvious outline beneath.
My thighs burn—they must have been hit by bullets too. Every part of me hurts, from the waves slamming me against rocks to the wounds that still throb. But they say bad weeds never die. I guess that's true.
A sharp sting on my upper thigh tells me one of my wounds is bleeding again.
I'm about to open my eyes when she positions herself over me. Without hesitation, she pulls my boxers down—and I know she's staring at what's now fully hard and ready.
It's not my fault. Nature takes its course.
"Good god!" She breathes, voice full of shock. "I-It's so big."
I hide a smile at her whispered words. She's hovering over me, not touching yet, but I can feel the heat radiating from her body.
I'm throbbing so badly I don't think I can control myself much longer. I've never been patient when it comes to this.
So even though every movement sends pain shooting through me, I push myself up and wrap my hands around her hips.
When my eyes finally open, the world stops. First I notice her long, wavy hair falling around her face. Then her eyes—round and wide, filled with tears and surprise. She freezes, staring back at me.
I take back every thought I had about her looking like a squid. She looks like a goddess in disguise.
Beautiful. Her sun-kissed skin complements her hair perfectly, and her eyelashes curl against her cheeks.
What's happening to me? I hold my breath—nothing like this has ever affected me before.
We stay like that for a moment, lost in each other's gaze. Then my length brushes against her most sensitive spot and her face drains of color.
"A-You're—y-you're awake?!" She screams loud enough to split my head open.
Right. I need to keep pretending.
"Who are you?" I ask, letting confusion seep into my voice.
I'm not much of an actor but I've spent years hiding my true feelings. I can wear a blank face for months if I need to.
It's how I survive—never letting enemies see my weaknesses.
I think she won't believe me.
But her response is more than I could have imagined.
"M-Me? I-I'm your wife."
I have to fight to keep from laughing as blood drains from her face. She realizes what she's said the second the words leave her lips.
But it's too late. I'm ready to play the part of a man with no memory.
My eyes drift to her lips—full and soft, looking impossibly sweet. Before I can stop myself, I pull her closer and kiss her hard.
She stares at me, shocked and wide-eyed.
I don't know what's come over me but I have a feeling the days ahead will be far more interesting because of her.
Sasha. That's her name.
Shit. Why do I want her so badly? I need to have her, to claim every inch of her body. My skin feels like it's on fire.
A reckless, dirty thought crosses my mind. "Is that true? Then... will you please help me calm down, wife?"
Sasha... you should never have helped me. It looks like I'm going to be the one to ruin whatever innocence you have left.