“We killed a man tonight.”
I’m not ignorant to the ways of the Bratva. But even though I’ve seen terrible, brutal things happen before my own eyes, hearing him state what he did sends ice pulsing through my veins.
“Who did?”
He swallows, then takes my hand and kisses my fingers to his lips. “Me and Yakov.”
My stomach drops to the floor, a gnawing ache that I can’t push away. I close my eyes and absorb the pain of this revelation.
“The new recruits,” I whisper. “But not the other man?”
He shakes his head. “He’s gone. No one knows where. He can hardly walk, and he did not attend the meeting.”
I shake my head. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand all of this.
“But you two… who did you kill?”
“The man who attacked us,” he says. “We were told if we interrogated him to find out who hired him, we would be able to keep the women we bought.”
So Yvonne belongs to Yakov now and I to Nicolai, but at the cost of murder.
This is the vicious, brutal world of Bratva life. I want to take him away from all of this, to a simple life where one doesn’t demand blood in exchange for another human. He swears allegiance to his current pakhan, and the demands the man makes on him might be inhumane or vile, but he must obey.
“That’s a terrible price to pay,” I say, my voice choked with emotion. “But it would be a lie if I said I wish you hadn’t paid it, because… well, because I don’t wish that.” I hold his hand to my heart. My nose tingles, and one lone tear rolls down my cheek. “Because I love that we can be together, at least for now.”
“At least for now?” he growls, then he’s spinning me out and laying me down, pinning my wrists above my head. My pulse races and my body begins to heat under his dominant, possessive touch. “For fucking ever. I’ll kill anyone who comes between us. Do you hear me?” His voice becomes an animalistic growl, tight with anger and remorse. “I will kill them.”
Hell, he already has.
“I’ll sell my soul to the fucking devil, Marissa,” he says, before he crashes his mouth on mine, capturing my lips and demanding I yield to him. He needs this brutal, savage taking. He’s earned me tonight, and he’s come to collect.
He tears off what little clothing I wear, the fabric rending into pieces he tosses to the floor. I submit fully to him, letting him kiss me and fondle my breasts, welcoming his touch and claiming. His tongue plunders my mouth, his hand so hard at my breast I cry out in pain when he tugs and twists one nipple.
“Sell my fucking soul,” he repeats, kissing my neck and sucking my flesh into his mouth, between his lips, so hard pulses of electricity race through my core even as my pulse spikes. It hurts so fucking good I’m moaning beneath him.
He pulls my nipple into his mouth and bites, his teeth cutting into the tender flesh. I arch my back and stifle a scream, whimpering when he laps the place he just assaulted. Soft, slow, torturous strokes of his tongue make my insides turn to liquid lava. I’m squirming beneath him, the pressure building between my thighs, when he releases my nipple and strips.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls, returning to work my nipples with delicious, savage licks and bites, his mouth working my breasts until I’m practically begging for release.
“Oh, God,” I moan. “Oh God, oh God.”
He crashes his hand down on my thigh, which momentarily stuns, then arouses me. “Be quiet,” he snaps. “Nothing above a whisper. You may be mine, but there are still dangers we need to face.”
I close my mouth, becoming utterly silent in obedience. I remember being taken over his knee and spanked. This brutal man who killed for me will stop at nothing to make me his.
He kneels above me, and I watch him remove his shirt and jacket, followed by his pants, He pushes his slacks down off his legs, and his huge erection springs up. He’s so damn turned on, I squirm myself just seeing him. When he’s fully naked, he lowers himself to me and grabs my wrists again, pinning them above me.
I yield to him because this is what he needs right now. To master and control. Maybe this is what he’ll always need, and it will be my pleasure to give it to him, to submit to his dominance and let him master me, to be the soft place he lands when his world devolves into jagged edges.
Leaning his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “You do exactly what I say, Marissa, or I’ll punish you.” My breath hitches, and he notes this with a curious smile. “Or is that what you want?”