The Bratva's Captive (Wicked Doms 3)

But I don't bother dwelling on it. Now that we're momentarily safe, we both need sleep. Shepherd is a natural guard, lying down by the door, his head on his paws but ears perked up. Watchful. And it reassures me a little, knowing I'm not the only one to defend us should it come to that.

And now that night has fallen, I think about sleeping arrangements and groan out loud. Christ. I hadn't planned on this.

There are no couches for me to crash on, and the bare wooden floor of the cabin won't suit me either. Last night when we shared a bed, I almost choked her. I can't risk that again.

Maybe I need something to help me sleep. Thankfully, Demyan had my bags packed with a small bottle of vodka I've already stored in the freezer.

"Get ready for bed," I tell Olena. "And no clothes."

She doesn't even protest as she strips her clothes off and heads to the bathroom. With her back to me, I can see the faint pink evidence of the spanking I gave her earlier. My stomach tightens, my dick hard. I want to fuck this woman from behind, her reddened skin beneath me, so badly my balls ache.

Taya was adamantly opposed to anything forceful. Our lovemaking was sweet, tender, passionate, and although I longed to try darker, more taboo things, and we did dabble, she never agreed to more than a tame spanking. She hated being tied up, and even the spanking did nothing for her. I accepted this as a part of our relationship, a trade-off for being with the woman I loved. But now that Olena is mine—my sadistic tendencies no longer subdued—my desire for more burns as hot as a bonfire within me.

Oh, what I could do to this woman.

I strip to my boxers as she finishes getting ready, gather up the dirty clothes, and toss them in a wicker hamper by the bathroom door. When she returns, her face is pink and freshly scrubbed, her hair falling about her shoulders in curls. And she's done what I asked: she wears nothing but the marks of the spanking I gave her.

But when she reaches the bed, she gives me a fearful look.

"Are we sharing the bed?"

I know what she fears.

"We have no choice here."

Nodding, she worries her lip between her teeth but doesn't voice her fears.

"I won't hurt you, Olena," I tell her.

But even as I say the words, I wonder if I can keep my promise. How will I prevent myself from touching her? From losing all control when I'm pulled under into another vivid dream?

I shake my head and go to the kitchen, pouring myself a frigid shot of vodka. I down it quickly, welcoming the burn and sting down my throat. I slam the shot glass down appreciatively. Perhaps I'll sleep more soundly tonight.

I can control myself. I know I can.

I pat Shepherd's head, crouching down beside him. "You'll let me know if you hear anything, won't you, boy?" I scratch behind his ears and he licks my hand, as if to tell me yes. Yes, he'll keep watch.

I shut off the lights and head to the bedroom. It feels so different in here than it did with Taya. That home was filled with love and laughter. This is so very, very different. Like a glorified prison cell. It holds the faint scent of roses, the one I associate with Olena. I don't like that it does. I feel like I'm betraying my Taya.

Forgive me, I think. But I don't know if it's Taya, Olena, or myself I beg pardon from.

I climb into bed beside Olena, roll toward her, and pull her to me. She's turned away from me, facing the bathroom, and I've got the entrance at my side. If we have any intruders, I'll be able to defend her. To my surprise, she doesn't resist, but allows me to drape an arm around her, tucking her ass into me. My cock presses up against her naked skin, and she doesn't try to wriggle or show any signs that she wants to. The vodka shot has taken off only a little of the edge, but holding her to me like this, tucked up to my chest like she actually belongs to me, soothes me more than the alcohol.

So soft. So feminine and graceful. The faintest scent of roses and her soft, steady breathing. My hand splays against her gently rounded belly, holding her tight against me.

"You found nothing?" she asks quietly, her voice clear but a little shaky in the darkness.

She's afraid. I've wanted her to be afraid of me since I took her, but now that she actually is, I'm not sure I like it as much as I thought I would.

"Nothing," I tell her. "But Shepherd is at the door and I won't let anyone hurt you."