Royal Bully (Mafia Royals 0.5)

The thing was as big as my house back home. Two stories of perfection, flat screen tv, full kitchen, a balcony to kill for, and what looked like a sauna and steam room right next to a theater room.

Asher went to the freezer and pulled out a bottle of chilled vodka.

“He says she yelled at him a lot.” He smirked as he pulled out two glasses and dumped a circular ice cube in each. When his eyes met mine, I almost backed away. He looked ready to attack, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for more of him, because he was the type of guy that stole pieces of your heart before you consented to give them away.

It was terrifying.

Maybe more than the violence.

More than the look in his eyes.

The way he couldn’t help but demand everything from me and expect me to just hand it over, all of it, his.

“So, yelling’s the way to your heart?” I joked.

“You have seen my family, right?” He handed me a glass and let out an amused laugh. “To… new friendships.”

“Is that what we are?” I tossed back the vodka like a pro and held out my glass. “Friends?”

Slowly he drained the vodka, his eyes never leaving mine. “Guess that’s up to you… Nikolai warned you already, you’re either in or you’re out, no in-between for people like us, Claire.”

“No pressure.” I set my glass down on the table and then ran my hands down his shoulders, down his chest, feeling his hard-muscled stomach. Damn, the guy had more rivets than necessary, didn’t he? Like his body couldn’t help but build muscle on top of muscle even if all he drank was vodka and wine. In what world did an eighteen-year-old have a body like that?

He slapped my hands away and crossed his arms. “No playing without purchasing.”

“What’s your price?” I tilted my head, scrunched up my nose, and waited for him to say something ridiculous.

His expression sobered as his arms dropped to his sides. “You. I just want you.”

“And then what?”

“And then we try to stay alive.”

“You’re serious?”

“Life, death, love, the only things you can count on… So… are you in?”

The question buzzed in my head.

And I knew it was one of those moments I would look back on and see myself standing in the middle of the road. One path led to a boring life married to an equally boring person, living in the suburbs and making pot roast. Maybe to some people that sounded great.

But to the left? I saw nothing but him.

Adventure.

Danger.

I could taste it in the air.

With a jerk, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a damning, beautiful kiss.

“Does that answer your question?” I rasped against his lips.

“You may have to do it again,” He pulled his shirt over his head, then followed with mine, “And again,” He was on his knees in front of me, tugging my skinny jeans down, gripping my thighs with both hands, sliding those rough hands down my skin. I had a moment of thanks that I’d shaved my legs the night before. A shiver wracked my body as his hands reached my ankles, my flip flops went flying, my jeans met a similar fate. And he stayed there just like that like he was seconds away from either worshipping me with his mouth or proposing.

I wasn’t sure which was more terrifying.

Blue eyes flashed, Asher’s smile was equal parts intense and sexy, I wasn’t sure a girl could ever truly get used to being looked at that way. I couldn’t stop shaking, and he’d already seen me naked.

He reached behind him and pulled out a small knife.

I didn’t back up even though my heart told me to run.

He slid the knife across his palm and then held it out to me, still on his knees. Trembling, I held out my hand face up.

The cut was fast.

Painful.

The burn was almost erotic as he used that same knife, sliding it up my thigh until it came into contact with my thong. The sound of fabric cutting had me squeezing my eyes shut as the flimsy piece of material landed somewhere near my feet.

Blood dripped from his palm onto mine.

I shuddered as the pain dulled like a pulsing heat between us.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

With each drip onto my hand, I felt a high, like my body couldn’t help but be tied to his in this supernatural and oddly holy way.

Slowly he stood to his feet, I swayed toward him as he pressed the knife between my breasts and with one jerk, my bra was cut in half. He moved the blade to the straps, I flinched with each tear.

And stared down at my discarded clothes.

The knife joined my clothes.

And then he pressed his palm to mine. I let out a cry of pain at his touch, the stinging was back, his mouth was hot and heavy on the back of my neck as he moved my hair to the side with his free hand.