All I have to say is that I did not write this. All of the credit goes to PerfectTempest on quizilla.com . She is REALLY awesome, and writes the best quiz results. If you would like to take this quiz go to
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The command came without warning, startling you.
“Marry me.”
Glancing at Ivan from your place on the luxurious sofa, you saw his violent eyes indulging themselves in you. Was he kidding? It was hard to be sure. Scoffing, you replied, “Doesn’t sound like it should.” A small, pleasant laugh tinkled from his lips and your glance became a glare. He was kidding, wasn’t he? “It should be a question, Ivan.”
Returning your calculating vehemence with a grin, Ivan stood and crossed the room. “You do know that I’m quite serious, da?” His smile was cold. “I would not lightly risk being rejected, so, it is a command—not a question.” Understandable, you supposed, but how dare he demand anything from you.
“Unless you can ask,” you ignored him as he stooped beside you, “I refuse.”
Kneeling beside the sofa, pressing his lips to your ear, Ivan whispered, “You would look lovely in white. My ice queen, you would belong to me and me alone.” The words made you shiver. So cruel and seductive, his beckons brushed against your cheek like the whim of a winter wind. Casting him a careful glance from the side, you found a gloved hand stroking your throat. “You do not fear me, do you?”
Smiling, you twisted onto your side and his hand descended down the length of your neck, sweeping across your chest. A sharp inhale caught you off guard and you scolded him with a sharp tinge to your tone, “I fear no man, Ivan.” Intrigued by your quiet tenacity, Ivan ran his hand back up your chest then down over your shoulder, tracing circles down your arm.
“Make me ask then,” Ivan insisted, smile challenging. “I will not ask unless I know you will say yes.”
Confusion riddled your features. You were not going to play games with the Russian. “Marriage is not something I would toy with. Didn’t I tell you this,” your voice hardened despite the vulnerability of your words, “when we first became one?” Now it was Ivan’s turn to inhale sharply.
The room fell silent as Ivan forced a smile. “I need time to think.”
Irritated, you pursed your lips; he did not have to be this difficult. He knew your answer better than you did. Certainly you were interested in being with him forever; you practically spent every moment with the overprotective, childish miser. Yet, he had to be difficult, didn’t he? As Ivan bent to peck your scowl, you grasped his face suddenly and yanked him down.
Stumbling onto the couch, onto you, Ivan had no choice but to kiss you back. Passion penetrating his lips and yours, you refused to let him escape so quickly. Hungry with desire and lust, you drew him closer as he fisted your hair and fumed affection into you.
Such a twisted, abstract love; but neither of you wanted it any other way.
Aware that this sequence of events had been planned, you growled into a kiss, “Just ask.” Clenching the folds of his coat, pulling him down further, you were determined to hold him prisoner until the question was spoken. Procrastinating, he squeezed your shoulders and kissed you sweetly; you minded that he was taking his time, knowing full-well that you were now making demands. So what if you were bossy? Ivan thrived off it.
“Since you are insisting so strongly,” Ivan smiled, “if I requested it, would you marry me?”
“Of course!” The annoyance quickened your voice.
“Good,” Ivan murmured, “because I already requested it. Consider yourself mine.”
Stopping to think, you realized that he had cheated his way into indirectly asking you to marry him. The nerve of that man! Mouth snapping open to object, you found Ivan suddenly in possession of your arm, kissing your soft skin. “That’s not fair! That’s cheating! Ah!” You gasped as his lips grazed sensitive skin, fingers delicately brushing against your throat. Closing your eyes, overwhelmed by sensations, your fingers unfurled and cool metal slipped down the length of one of your digits.
Eye cracking open, you found a ring on your finger and looked at Ivan.
Twisting, his victorious smile was followed by a chorus of triumph. “I win! I win! I win!” Getting up, he noticed your furious expression and that pleasant lilt entered his voice. “You know I only make fun of you because I love you, da?” Your lower lip jutted out in a pout—you were not amused, no matter what the Russian did. He tricked you! He just tricked you into marrying him! Ivan merely smiled, however, and announced, “I am going to schedule time for a ceremony. Wait here.”
“I’ll do as I please!” You retorted, scowling until he disappeared.
Glowering, you listened to his footsteps tread down the outside hall and started surveying your ring. Like it or not, it was beautiful. Now, you were not the romantic type, but you had such appreciation for trivial trinkets; especially when such careful care had been put into constructing it. Slipping it off your finger, you noticed the inscription on the inside of the silver band:
“Я люблю тебя.”
With great disdain, you surrendered to a smile. It read, in Russian, “I love you.” Despite your captive situation, cold bliss curdled the thumping of your heart; in a way, something alive stirred within you. Stretching across the couch and pulling the nearest drapery to your chest, you willed a harsher chill to soothe the ice flower burgeoning in your burning soul. From the window behind you, Ivan smiled; a melted snowdrop slipped down his cheek.
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The command came without warning, startling you.
“Marry me.”
Glancing at Ivan from your place on the luxurious sofa, you saw his violent eyes indulging themselves in you. Was he kidding? It was hard to be sure. Scoffing, you replied, “Doesn’t sound like it should.” A small, pleasant laugh tinkled from his lips and your glance became a glare. He was kidding, wasn’t he? “It should be a question, Ivan.”
Returning your calculating vehemence with a grin, Ivan stood and crossed the room. “You do know that I’m quite serious, da?” His smile was cold. “I would not lightly risk being rejected, so, it is a command—not a question.” Understandable, you supposed, but how dare he demand anything from you.
“Unless you can ask,” you ignored him as he stooped beside you, “I refuse.”
Kneeling beside the sofa, pressing his lips to your ear, Ivan whispered, “You would look lovely in white. My ice queen, you would belong to me and me alone.” The words made you shiver. So cruel and seductive, his beckons brushed against your cheek like the whim of a winter wind. Casting him a careful glance from the side, you found a gloved hand stroking your throat. “You do not fear me, do you?”
Smiling, you twisted onto your side and his hand descended down the length of your neck, sweeping across your chest. A sharp inhale caught you off guard and you scolded him with a sharp tinge to your tone, “I fear no man, Ivan.” Intrigued by your quiet tenacity, Ivan ran his hand back up your chest then down over your shoulder, tracing circles down your arm.
“Make me ask then,” Ivan insisted, smile challenging. “I will not ask unless I know you will say yes.”
Confusion riddled your features. You were not going to play games with the Russian. “Marriage is not something I would toy with. Didn’t I tell you this,” your voice hardened despite the vulnerability of your words, “when we first became one?” Now it was Ivan’s turn to inhale sharply.
The room fell silent as Ivan forced a smile. “I need time to think.”
Irritated, you pursed your lips; he did not have to be this difficult. He knew your answer better than you did. Certainly you were interested in being with him forever; you practically spent every moment with the overprotective, childish miser. Yet, he had to be difficult, didn’t he? As Ivan bent to peck your scowl, you grasped his face suddenly and yanked him down.
Stumbling onto the couch, onto you, Ivan had no choice but to kiss you back. Passion penetrating his lips and yours, you refused to let him escape so quickly. Hungry with desire and lust, you drew him closer as he fisted your hair and fumed affection into you.
Such a twisted, abstract love; but neither of you wanted it any other way.
Aware that this sequence of events had been planned, you growled into a kiss, “Just ask.” Clenching the folds of his coat, pulling him down further, you were determined to hold him prisoner until the question was spoken. Procrastinating, he squeezed your shoulders and kissed you sweetly; you minded that he was taking his time, knowing full-well that you were now making demands. So what if you were bossy? Ivan thrived off it.
“Since you are insisting so strongly,” Ivan smiled, “if I requested it, would you marry me?”
“Of course!” The annoyance quickened your voice.
“Good,” Ivan murmured, “because I already requested it. Consider yourself mine.”
Stopping to think, you realized that he had cheated his way into indirectly asking you to marry him. The nerve of that man! Mouth snapping open to object, you found Ivan suddenly in possession of your arm, kissing your soft skin. “That’s not fair! That’s cheating! Ah!” You gasped as his lips grazed sensitive skin, fingers delicately brushing against your throat. Closing your eyes, overwhelmed by sensations, your fingers unfurled and cool metal slipped down the length of one of your digits.
Eye cracking open, you found a ring on your finger and looked at Ivan.
Twisting, his victorious smile was followed by a chorus of triumph. “I win! I win! I win!” Getting up, he noticed your furious expression and that pleasant lilt entered his voice. “You know I only make fun of you because I love you, da?” Your lower lip jutted out in a pout—you were not amused, no matter what the Russian did. He tricked you! He just tricked you into marrying him! Ivan merely smiled, however, and announced, “I am going to schedule time for a ceremony. Wait here.”
“I’ll do as I please!” You retorted, scowling until he disappeared.
Glowering, you listened to his footsteps tread down the outside hall and started surveying your ring. Like it or not, it was beautiful. Now, you were not the romantic type, but you had such appreciation for trivial trinkets; especially when such careful care had been put into constructing it. Slipping it off your finger, you noticed the inscription on the inside of the silver band:
“Я люблю тебя.”
With great disdain, you surrendered to a smile. It read, in Russian, “I love you.” Despite your captive situation, cold bliss curdled the thumping of your heart; in a way, something alive stirred within you. Stretching across the couch and pulling the nearest drapery to your chest, you willed a harsher chill to soothe the ice flower burgeoning in your burning soul. From the window behind you, Ivan smiled; a melted snowdrop slipped down his cheek.