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He was the glimmer of adrenaline, the roughness of tracks beneath bare feet, and the siren of a freight train coming head-on. And I was fascinated. His eyes were unreadable. “You will be safe here.” I believed him.
My expectations were unrealistic, a little gruesome, and a lot illegal. But a girl could dream.
There was good in this world, and that was a hill I’d die on.
Slamming the door, I turned to Andrei. “Anyone even looks at her, kill them.” He put that stupid toothpick back into his mouth, his attention stuck on the girl’s legs through the car window. I clenched my teeth. “That includes you. I have better things to do than watch you blow your own brains out.”
Self-loathing was exhausting.
I refused to die in Gucci.
Her growl followed me into the hall. “I do not wear white!” As of today, I didn’t either. If I was a virgin walking toward sacrifice, I’d do it dressed in a black hand-me-down.
She had a soft heart. I didn’t want to destroy it. I wanted it in the palm of my hand. And right now my hand was occupied.
She wouldn’t beg for her own life, but she would for two men she didn’t know. The stupid, selfless act was the most irritating thing I’d ever experienced.
Mila was uncharted waters to me, filled to the brim with a selflessness I didn’t understand. And like a cat with a mouse, I wanted to play with her for a while.
Like some twisted version of Narnia, I was sure, if I stepped into his wardrobe, it would lead me straight to hell.
Today was the worst day for the cramps to creep up on me. This morning, I decided I would do anything to get out of this room: rein in the sarcasm, sell my soul, blow the devil—you name it.
God only knows how many times I’d thought about fisting a hand in that hair while she sucked me off. I was sure He didn’t approve, but maybe He should lower His expectations so we could all be happy.
“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” “Charismatic gangster who’s an introvert at heart? Sexual deviant? A villain with a sad past I refuse to sympathize with? Check, check, check. If you were a subject on my SATs, I’d ace it.”
I said I wouldn’t sympathize with him, but it was hard when he threw his tragic past in my face. I prayed Ronan wouldn’t talk about being an orphan living on the streets. Otherwise, I may as well just tie my hair back in preparation for signing over my soul.
“You must eat, devushka.” “I told you, I’m not hungry. And I’m not staying in that ridiculously comfortable bed anymore. Point me in the direction of the dungeon. I’ll room there for the rest of my stay.”
If I could long for the devil, it meant I had some darkness in me too.
If the kiss was a chess game, I was the bespectacled novice. And he was the cheater who wiped the board clean and fucked me on top of it.
Darkness cast the room in shadow, though a golden sheen surrounded Mila’s sleeping form like a halo. The strange glow could be a trick of the light, but the night was a moonless one, meaning there wasn’t any fucking light. With a sense of annoyance, I realized I needed to get my vision checked.
When she shivered in her sleep, I automatically stepped forward to cover her up but stopped myself, a frustrated, “Jesus Christ,” passing my lips.
I needed therapy. Or church. Anything to exorcise the demons that raged in eagerness at the sound of his voice.
The man could shoot an old woman’s pet Fluffy without remorse, and still, I felt comfort in his arms.
“I get enough easy pussy. I’m not in the mood for more.” His words should dissuade any woman and send her running to find literally anyone else. But I didn’t want another. Not to mention, he was incredibly hard against me. Who was the liar now? “You did this to me.” My eyes narrowed. “Now, fix it.”
Moonlight played across her body as if it loved her. Venomous snakes had stripes; Mila glowed. The only shadows that touched her were mine.
She was hard to look at and hard to look away from. So soft, so perfect, so goddamn fuckable. It was a nightmare.
When I rubbed the head of my cock against her pussy, the heat of it almost burning, a tremble coasted through her, and her fingers gripped the sheets. “Nervous?” I asked coarsely. “Yes.” “Good.”
I realized I’d never heard her say my name before. And I suddenly needed to. “You want more, kotyonok?” “Yes.” “Then tell me who’s fucking you,” I demanded harshly. “Does it matter?” She tried to rock back against me, but I held her still by her hips. “Yes, it fucking matters.” “Why? In the end, I’ll only remember your headboard. It really is a sexy design.” Gritting my teeth, I threw her to her back so roughly she bounced. I pushed inside of her in one hard thrust, braced my hands beside her head, and watched her eyes roll back.
“Is this what you want?” I growled. She was flushed from her orgasm, her breathing rough, but she still managed to say, “I want candles.” It was so fucking ridiculous, my anger faded.
The moonlight loved her. But not as much as my shadows. “Ti slishkom ideal’naya chto bi byt’ nastoyashchey.”
I’d anticipated sex and then for Ronan to slap my ass on my way out the door. I didn’t expect for him to say I was perfect and then kiss me until I fell asleep. I hadn’t known he had that kind of softness in him. It was more than I thought I’d ever get. So why did I feel so . . . empty? God, I really was an emotional fuck.
“You’re holding her as ransom for her papa’s head. Did you think she was going to thank you?” I didn’t know what I thought. Earlier tonight, I felt sick to my stomach when I had a barrel pressed to her head, and it had been an accident. The fact she could do the same and say I never had to see her again . . . I’d never felt so betrayed in my life.
A part of me knew she didn’t mean to shoot me. But the part that consumed me was the fact she thought she could just walk away from me. As the anger died, it left me feeling hollow. Fucking awful. The thought of her out there, cold . . . I couldn’t take it anymore.
The fact I couldn’t leave her out here for more than fifteen minutes was sure to give them something to talk about. They could go fuck themselves for all I cared.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in my neck. “I swear I didn’t mean to do it.” Her words were a punch to the gut—especially because I believed her. I knew it before I even dragged her outside. Truthfully, I couldn’t blame her if she meant to pull the trigger; I hadn’t exactly taken her on a vacation. The fact I’d reacted so irrationally and she was the one apologizing to me made me feel like my hands were too dirty to even touch her.
A shiver wracked her, and the pressure in my throat expanded, compelling me to skim a kiss across her cold thigh and roughly say, “Izvini.” I’m sorry. I remembered the last time I’d said that. I was six and accidentally knocked over a cup of tea on the table, which washed away the line of heroin my mother was about to snort. She backhanded me so hard I hit my head on the fridge and blacked out. It was then I learned apologies were nothing but useless words, though Mila felt differently. And she could have whatever she wanted from me right now.
I’d wanted her body. But now, I wanted her loyalty even more.
“Tell me what you really want from me, kotyonok. You can have it. Anything besides letting you go.”
“Am I that easy to leave, kotyonok?”
“You wanted my misery, but I’m giving you my forgiveness,” I breathed, voice thick. “When you let me go, I won’t turn you in even though I should. I can’t be the person to send you back to prison . . .” I inhaled raggedly. “I’ll walk away when this is over and I won’t look back—though not because I hate you but because I don’t. Not even a little bit . . .”
“This is getting too close to a Nicholas Sparks movie for me, kotyonok. I just wanted to convince you to let me fuck you again.” “I’m an emotional fuck,” I replied. “Get over it.”
I’d never felt so small; so feminine and complete. I suddenly knew I would never feel this again; never fit so well with someone else; never meet another man like this. I may as well enjoy the happily-for-now while it lasted.
“You’ll never ask me for more than I can give.” Darkness clouded his eyes, and his hand collared my throat, a thumb running across a hickey he’d put there. “I’ve already taken everything you have to give.” I held his gaze, my heart a battering ram pounding against the wall of my chest. “And now, I’m going to take a little more.”
Karma could have given me something easier to deal with—like an impending atom bomb or a nuclear disaster. But no, the comeuppance karma had dealt me was feelings. What a cunt.
I’d been inside her enough times to memorize every inch of her body. My curiosity on that front should be satisfied. Though satisfaction was the feeling of a job well done; not the driving need to do it again and again until I died.
Less than forty-eight hours. That was how long I had left before making the trade with Alexei. He was the one with a death sentence, but somehow, it felt like I was getting fucked over.
Alexei’s head no longer seemed an adequate trade for Mila. She was worth millions more . . . and the stolen Eiffel Tower. As a tension tightened my body, searing my chest, I pondered asking for exactly that.
The knowledge was difficult to admit to myself, but I liked this girl an indecent amount. I liked her in my home—even with all the mud she dragged in. I liked her full attention and smart mouth. But what I really liked was her heart—the pliable organ in her chest I could mold to fit my hand like Play-Doh.
Her tears, her trusting eyes, her fucking existence—all of it made it impossible to imagine her walking away from me while I watched from a distance, my palm containing a remnant of sticky yellow Play-Doh I’d never be able to wash off.
She glanced up at me. Her eyes were a window to her soul. I suddenly knew, if I ever died, those eyes would have something to do with it. Somehow, it sounded acceptable to me.
My amusement nose-dived when I remembered she was wearing nothing but my thin T-shirt. My gaze hardened. “Go put on some fucking pants, Mila.” She ignored me. Straight-up ignored me. If she thought the gunshot wound had made me so passive I wouldn’t carry her ass up those stairs, she was wrong. But her words momentarily paused me. “Will he be okay?” she asked.
