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Handsome in the way rough palms muffle screams, the way people bow to kings, and most of all . . . the way an angel falls from grace.
He was war embodied, tailored in an expensive black suit, sans tie and jacket. I knew his was the one I wore now.
Every inch of me vibrated beneath the surface, hummed and inflamed whenever my body touched his. I rolled my hips and arched closer against him, feeling incredible heat beyond his expensive black suit, and then I licked the inside of his mouth. Like a reflex, he sucked on my tongue. Heat, tiny pricks of heat, consumed me from the inside out. He pulled back to roughly say, “Ty dazhe na vkus sladkaya.”
“Moy kotyonok.” I ran a thumb across her parted lips. “I told you this city would eat you alive.” I just didn’t tell her I owned Moscow and everything in it.
Darkness there, and nothing more.
if anyone deserved to have a piano fall on their head while they walked down Wall Street, it was this man.
“Please,” I begged, sliding my hand over his erection and up his chest, my next words harsh, “go fuck yourself.”
His grip tightened on my thigh, and the restraint behind it—the idea he could bruise me, hurt me, but didn’t—only made me desperate for more.
imagination played a scene of the doctor in the underworld boarding a train called Satan’s Express.
was surprised Ronan wrapped it up, expecting him to want to spawn his demons into the world every time he conned a woman into his bed.
“Depends. Would you die, or does it take a stake through the heart? I don’t want to waste my time.”
“Don’t worry, kotyonok . . .” He leaned in and nuzzled my neck, his warm breath raising goose bumps on my skin. “Ya vyyebu vsyu lozh iz tebya.”
“You did this to me.” My eyes narrowed. “Now, fix it.”
The moonlight loved her. But not as much as my shadows. “Ti slishkom ideal’naya chto bi byt’ nastoyashchey.”
“But be careful. One of them might end up meaning something to you.” The words seared like acid on my tongue. He watched me for a second. “Ya dumayu uzhe slishkom pozdno dlya etogo.”
“I need to know everything. Who’s kissed you. What you wash your hair with. How many licks it takes you to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.” His eyes hardened. “And if I have to tie you up again to get the answers, I will.”
D’yavol may have stolen my breath. But I gave him my heart.
He was less human and more like D’yavol when he fucked.
“You’re no longer a virgin. I had the proof of that all over my cock.”
All along, this man had been on the other side of the Atlantic. And maybe . . . just maybe, my soul always knew.
My chest held a brittle paper heart knowing, soon, this man would slip through my fingers like another lost Lenore . . .
But no, the comeuppance karma had dealt me was feelings. What a cunt.
The truth was . . . Mila could have braces and leprosy, and I’d still want to fuck her six ways to Sunday.
“Fuck,” she breathed. I chuckled roughly. “I think I’m a bad influence on you.”
“He said if one shot in the arm kills me, he’ll divorce his loving wife and fuck a famous whore with HIV. Then he’ll move to Siberia and farm turnips until he dies.”
My perfect little martyr, lying in her father’s executioner’s arms. I had a job to do, and she was the chess piece needed to win. The problem was . . . I didn’t think I could ever play her.
Christian looked like Gabriel the archangel. Ronan was every part D’yavol.
“It’s called Stockholm syndrome. What’s your excuse? Mobster Decency Disorder?”
“Lions don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.”
The only thing Ronan would do with a scarf was strangle someone with it.
“Because you’re so sweet you fucking glow.” His eyes darkened. “And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take that light from you.”
“Aren’t you going to say it too?” “Nyet.” The reply was so cold, its ice burned the backs of my eyes, sending a single tear down my cheek. It wasn’t until he watched it fall that I noticed the tightness in his shoulders; the turmoil he hid so well behind Giovanni. A rough thumb wiped the tear away. “Ya ne govoryu togo, chego ne imeyu v vidu.”
“NO,” tore through my body. I could handle mourning so much. But not Ronan. Never Ronan. My heart made the decision for me. I shoved him away from me just as a pop sounded. Then everything went silent. The smoke drifted away. Shrapnel stopped falling. This world wasn’t spinning. It was cold, quiet, and so very dark.
found another weakness. He was weak for me.
“You’re not immortal,” I whispered, my throat thick. “I didn’t want you to die.”
“You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me.” He clenched his teeth. “You DON’T get to die for me, kotyonok.”
“Then let me make it clear for you,” he said, the shadows in his eyes flashing. “You would survive without me. You would move on.” His tone roughened. “I can’t imagine a world where you and all your fucking yellow doesn’t exist. So if you die, you’ll take me with you. Your sacrifice would mean nothing, kotyonok. NOTHING.”
Alexei Mikhailov was crying. It was awkward as fuck.
“When I took you under my wing, you liked whatever I liked. I could say I liked a cucumber shoved up my ass, and you would say you liked it too. It was fucking annoying, but you were loyal to a fault. Only you weren’t, were you?”
I could be patient when I really wanted something. But I didn’t want her; I needed her.
If this was what they called “love,” then I’d own it. I never did anything half-ass.
“Ty svela menya s uma. I teper tebye nuzhno razbiratsa s posledstviyami.” You made me crazy. And now you have to deal with the consequences.
“Ya lyublyu tebya. Tak sil’no chto ne mogu dumat’ kogda ty daleko ot menya.” I love you. So much I can’t think when you’re away from me.
