Corruption (Underworld Kings) - Page 32

He hadn’t come back in the room since dropping that stuff off, which felt like hours ago. After I’d eaten, all my energy came crashing down and I found myself falling asleep.

Now here I was, sitting on the edge of the bed after just using the bathroom and cleaning up. I stared out the window, the morning light slithering in. I heard a bird chirping somewhere close, and could practically smell the pine from the trees.

My anger that had been replaced by exhaustion was back with a vengeance.

My body ached fiercely, my feet were far too painful to even walk on, and I hated that I felt so damn helpless.

I looked at the closed bedroom door for what seemed like the millionth time, hearing the noise of Kostya rummaging around right on the other side, but having ignored it all morning.

I stood and grimaced as the pain in the soles of my feet snaked up my legs. It was my own fault though. I’d run out into the night halfcocked and ready to escape, not thinking about anything or using common sense.

I looked down at the shirt I wore, plain and white. One of Kostya’s. As soon as I’d woken and gotten cleaned up, I rummaged through his dresser. His pants were too big, so I opted for one of his T-shirts and a pair of thick socks.

He was such a large man that the sleeves went to my elbows, the hem to my knees, and the socks covered my calves.

I felt far more covered than when I was in my sleep shorts and tank. I stared at the bedroom door once more, my anger growing exponentially the longer I stood there and thought about everything.

I heard a couple pots and pans banging around, and gathering all that courage and strength, irritation and annoyance, I went over and opened the door, limping my way down the hallway to stand right at the entrance where the kitchen and living room opened up.

My breath caught for a second as I stared at Kostya. He stood by the sink filling up a glass of water. He was shirtless, his dark sweats hanging low on his hips. I was riveted at the sight of all that muscle on display. Every inch of his skin was covered in dark tattoos.

I stared at those two dimples that sat at the base of his spine. His muscles flexed even at the slightest movement, his bicep and forearm tightening as he brought the glass to his mouth and downed it in one breath. Then he set the glass on the counter and braced his hands on the edge of the sink, staring out the window.

Although he seemed utterly relaxed, the back of my neck tightened, tingled. He was fully aware I stood here.

“I made breakfast,” he said in that deep voice of his that seemed a little huskier, as if he’d just woken up.

When I didn’t answer, he looked over his shoulder and ran a hand over his hair, disheveling the short dark strands even more.

“I don’t want your food.” I tried to be strong but even I could hear it sounded as if I were throwing a temper tantrum. “I don’t want anything from you.” And as if my body wanted to betray me at that moment, my stomach made a noise of hunger, letting him know how much of a liar I was.

“Suit yourself.” He turned toward the stove and started bringing plates and pans over to the table. I saw he’d cooked eggs, bacon, and toast. I also smelled fresh brewed coffee. He sat down and started eating as if I weren’t even there, the morning paper spread out beside him.

I gritted my teeth as my hunger and annoyance grew.

“I can’t stay here. I have a life, a job, bills to pay.”

He ignored me, the bastard.

“What do you think will happen when you go back, sweetheart?” He wiped his mouth with the napkin and took a long pull from his coffee cup after he spoke.

“Live my damn life without being someone’s prisoner.” I tightened my hands into fists again. “You think I want to be shackled to someone my father picks for me? You think I want to be used as a power move?” I inhaled sharply. “You think I deserve to watch you murder a man right in front of me, then be drugged and kidnapped in the middle of the night and held against my will?”

I could feel my blood pressure rising dangerously high, so much so that I felt dizzy.

“Breathe, Ana.” His voice was calm and smooth, and for a second I felt myself start to climb back down.

But then I got annoyed all over again at the fact he could sit there all collected and calm, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Tags: Jenika Snow Erotic
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