The Bratva's Bride (Wicked Doms 2)

“You’re a—”

“Watch it,” I correct. “I’ve explained to you that as mine, you will obey me. You speak to me disrespectfully, and you’ll find your ass striped good and red before we go downstairs to my brothers shortly.” I let the weight of my words sink in. “Now try again.”

She takes in a deep breath, draws her shoulders back, and says through gritted teeth, “Please may I have food, sir?”

It’s almost passable.

I finish my fruit and take her muesli. I despise the stuff, but it was the first thing she asked for, so she can watch me eat it while she learns to behave. I dump some in my fruit cup, top it with milk, and spoon the too-sweet concoction. It takes effort to school my features from grimacing when I taste coconut. Fucking disgusting.

I choke down a bite. “You’re getting there,” I tell her. “But I think your tone of voice can be more compliant.”

“And I think your—”

But she stops herself mid-sentence. I take another bite of her muesli.

“Please,” she says in a quiet voice, “May I have some breakfast, sir?”

I nod. “You may. Sit.”

She gets off her knees with grace becoming a woman of stature much higher than her own, and sits regally in the chair before me, her breasts full and pert and still lightly marked from the cane.

Perfect.

I give her the remaining porridge.

“Good job,” I tell her. “Now while you eat, let’s go over what I expect of you.”

She swallows large bites of porridge as if she’s afraid I’ll take it away from her and when I don’t remove it, she pauses long enough to top it with sugar before resuming her breakfast. I wonder how long it’s been since she’s eaten.

“You’ll speak to me with respect,” I tell her. “No backtalk or rude tones. While we’re here and I’m occupied, I may cuff you or cage you, and any time I do I expect you to submit.”

Her eyes narrow, but she says nothing as she continues to eat.

“You’ll pay me back by the hour when you obey my commands,” I tell her. “As I explained to you before, in my presence, you will obey and submit, or suffer the consequences. This is not a partnership. Anything that seems like freedom is merely an illusion. You are my captive, and you’ll be given many opportunities to pay back what you owe. But make no mistake, Calina.” I lean forward. “You are mine. You have no freedom but what I allow. I am your master and you, kisa, are my slave. Understood?”

It seems the food has settled her a bit, because she nods. “Yes, sir.”

Now that I’ve eaten, I need to work out. I’d like her to join me, but I don’t have her clothes yet.

“I’m going downstairs for a bit, and you’ll remain here.” I hand her a pad of paper and a pen. “Write down what you need.”

A few minutes later, she hands me the list. I look it over, then place a call to one of my men to pick up the essentials. “And send Rothsky here,” I tell him. “I want her checked to be sure she’s clean, and I want her on birth control as soon as possible.” I’m impatient and want her to myself as soon as possible.

I stand and stretch, then cover our meals and point to her room. “Go back and lie down. You may use the bathroom if necessary, but no freedom in my absence today. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she says in an almost sing-song voice. We have a meeting in two hours, and I want her prepared before then.

“No disobedience, Calina,” I warn, considering the cage in my absence.

“You’ve made that clear, sir,” she responds, and this time she seems the most compliant she’s been since I brought her here.Chapter 5I do what he says, lying on the bed while he prepares to leave, but I want him on edge. I don’t want him to have full control here, so I begin to sing to myself in a low voice. I’m doing what he said. He never asked me not to.

He walks into the room and eyes me thoughtfully before he speaks.

“On second thought, I want you with me,” he says. “Dress in the clothes you wore here. When we return, you’ll be outfitted for the clothes you’ll wear with me.”

I continue to sing, ignoring him.

“Calina.” His voice is sharp, and I pretend I just heard him.

“Oh, sorry,” I say. “What?”

He stands in the doorway between our rooms, his eyes darkened and brow furrowed for one long, silent minute. Lifting one finger, he beckons to me. “Come here.”

I rise, walking to him with dread growing in the pit of my stomach. I remember the spanking he gave me last night when I acted silly. Maybe this part of my plan isn’t quite working.