Cold Hearted Bastard (Underworld Kings)

I charged after him, aiming for his legs to take him down, but I only got a few steps before he wrapped a thickly muscled arm around my waist and lifted me off the ground. I gasped with the sudden rush of air and shift of the ground beneath me, and then once again he had my back to his chest, his arms keeping mine pinned to my sides.

“Show me again,” he said darkly against my ear and let go of me.

I stumbled forward and tried to catch my breath. I turned around again, not sure what the hell I was doing, yet trying to look for a weak spot. I went after him again, but this time I ducked when I saw the subtle tensing of his arm. I knew he was about to grab me again. I managed to kick my leg out and get him in the calf, but his leg was like cement, hard and unyielding.

He had me off the ground and spun around so fast I grew dizzy. And then my chest was pressed against the boxing ring rope, Arlo’s massive body against mine, every inch of him burning me where he touched.

“You should get your money back if this is what they taught you.” I could hear the teasing, annoyed note in his voice, and my own irritation rose.

“You’re bigger than me, stronger.” I turned my head to the side so I could look at him, but that was a foolish move, as it brought our mouths dangerously close together. “I don’t have my pepper spray, and I don’t have the added benefit of fearing for my life and getting that kick of adrenaline.”

My breath caught, my lungs tightening, when this dark, strange look covered his face.

“You should be afraid right now, moy svet.” His words were low… deadly. “You should be more afraid of me than anything else in the dark.” He leaned in an inch. “If you knew who I truly was, you wouldn't be so close to me.”

I looked down at where his hand gripped the rope on either side of me, the tattoos on his fingers sneaking up the back of his hand disappearing and going up his wrist and forearm. I’d never been one to think tattoos were attractive, but on Arlo, it made him brutally beautiful to me.

“You’re so tiny, moy svet.” He made a low, gruff sound and pushed away from me. I closed my eyes and breathed out just as he said, “Again.”

And so for the next several hours, I sparred and grappled with Arlo until I was sweaty and sore, more tired than I’d ever been, but had never felt more liberated in all my life.

15

Galina

The following day, the routine was the same. But I’d called off from my shift, knowing it was the smart thing to do even if it felt wrong with my end goal.

We ate breakfast before Arlo took me to the gym, where he barked out in Russian at the men there, which had them scattering out of sight, and then he proceeded to help me train for a few hours.

After a light lunch, we came back to his apartment, where I showered, then proceeded to pass out until dinner. My body ached, even my skin hurting from the almost brutal way Arlo had pushed me with self-defense.

And although I’d never been so tired before, I’d also never felt stronger or more sure of protecting myself. I’d never felt so… safe.

The sun had set an hour ago, and Arlo ordered Italian, which had just been delivered. The bags were fancy and black, gold lettering stamped across the front. I’d never eaten from anywhere that had delivery bags as swanky as these or, hell, delivery bags at all.

I was doing everything in my power not to look at him. I felt his eyes on me, so magnetic that I was hyperaware of every little move he made.

He hadn’t gone to work—or whatever he did to make a living—since he’d brought me to his apartment, and my curiosity was starting to get the better of me, but I refrained from asking. I did have tonight off but was scheduled for Sal’s tomorrow, and I wasn’t going to miss it. No matter what he said.

I brought my fork to the chicken parm on my plate and cut off a piece, focusing way too damn hard on it. It was either that or look at Arlo.

The flavors burst in my mouth, the sauce rich and everything combining together as if the cook had been creating a masterpiece. But instead of his tools being a canvas and paints, he used tomatoes, basil, and other seasoning.

And it was the fact that I was trying so hard not to focus on Arlo, who sat across from me yet felt so close, that I was comparing food with painting.