Claiming My Sweet Captive

He touched the tip of the knife to her throat, and her breath stuttered. A foolish urge to surge forward and tear him away from her rushed through me, but I quickly mastered it. I might be bigger than my brother, but he was far more powerful in so many ways.

All I could do was hope that Samantha gave him the answers he wanted before he hurt her too badly. I wasn’t sure if he was threatening to give her to me in order to scare her or if he was taunting us both. He knew I’d rather have her for myself than witness the gory scene he intended for her. He was teasing me, testing me. Tormenting me just as he was terrorizing her.

Cristian stepped behind her so my camera could get a clearer view. He intended to send this footage to whoever she was working for as a warning.

His fist tangled in her copper hair, and he tugged her head back sharply, further baring her throat to his knife. She stared up at him, her breaths turning shallow as she focused solely on the threat he posed.

He scratched the knifepoint upward from her throat, grazing under her chin. Her skin turned pink beneath the blade, but he didn’t cut into her. Not yet.

He pressed the flat of the blade against her full lips, and I tensed. It would be a shame to ruin such a pretty mouth. There were so many other ways I’d like to use it.

She whimpered again, the sound going straight to my cock. I might not want Cristian to torture her, but seeing her bound and frightened called to my darker urges. I wished I were the one towering over her, feeling her silken hair wrapped around my fist as I commanded her full attention.

Cristian decided to show a shred of mercy, and he lifted the knife from her lips. She gasped in a quick breath before the blade returned to her throat.

“You were in my territory today, watching my people,” he drawled. “One of my men followed you home. Who are you working for?” The last held a harsh ring of command.

“I’m FBI,” she whis

pered.

Fuck. We’d abducted a fed? If she was telling the truth, we’d just made a grave mistake. It was one thing to protect our product from rivals. Provoking the feds was stupid and reckless.

Cristian frowned. “A sniper made an attempt on my life a few days ago. The feds wouldn’t assassinate me. Who are you really working for?”

He increased the pressure of the knife, and a drop of crimson beaded on her throat.

“I really am FBI,” she said in a rush. “My name is Samantha Browning. I’m a tech analyst. Well, I was. I’m a field agent now. I’m not trying to kill you. We’re investigating you. You have to know you’re on our radar. Please, I swear I’m FBI.” She was babbling, fear making the truth spill from her lips.

She might be a very accomplished liar, but I doubted it. I could practically feel the terror pulsing off her, could see the fine tremors that wracked her slender body.

Cristian studied her for a moment, considering. “You’re a tech analyst?” he said slowly, mulling over the information. “That means you have access to all the evidence the feds have on me. If you’re telling the truth about who you are.”

“I am,” she said quickly. “You can’t hurt me. If you do, my friends will come after you.”

She was right. If we cut her up and dumped her body, there would be hell to pay. Sending the video I’d been recording was out of the question. I turned off my camera and slipped my phone into my pocket. I’d delete the footage later.

“I think I’ll give you to my brother, after all,” Cristian mused. “He’ll make sure you’re telling the truth. I’d rather not mutilate you if you’re going to be useful to me. Andrés has more creative ways of breaking women. And I’ll keep our little video to ourselves. If you are who you say you are, I’d rather your friends at the FBI don’t know I have you.”

I didn’t have time to draw a relieved breath before he touched the tip of the knife below her left eye. Another drop of blood beaded on her pale skin.

“Maybe I’ll give you a scar to match my brother’s first,” he said. I knew he was taunting me now, but I couldn’t hold back a growl. If he truly did intend to give her to me, I wouldn’t allow him to carve her up.

A sharp, amused grin lit Cristian’s features. “Apparently, he wants you mostly intact. Should I give him what he wants?”

I growled again, a wordless warning. Now that she was mine, I couldn’t bear to watch him touching her, tormenting her. I’d barely been able to remain detached when he’d first threatened her with his knife. Now that he was dangling her in front of me like a toy he could take away, it was all I could do to keep myself from attacking him.

But that would only make things worse for her and for me.

“Not the face, then,” Cristian declared. “But I think I’ll let Andrés see what he’s getting to work with.”

The knife left her cheek, and he hooked the blade beneath the top button of her shirt. I clenched my teeth and swallowed a snarl. He was going to bare her. And while I wanted to look at her, I hated watching him strip her for me.

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, but she stopped struggling. Her eyes clouded over, her lashes fluttering. She was barely breathing, and I knew she was on the verge of passing out.

Cristian’s fingers tightened in her hair, denying her the release of unconsciousness. “Stay with us, Samantha,” he chided.

Her eyes focused on him again, and more tears glistened on her cheeks.