The Kidnapping of Roan Sinclair

by Ashlyn Drewek

“I want him to be afraid,” Roan concluded, his voice lowering at the same time he turned his face away from me. “Like I was.”

From an early age, I had fear beaten out of me. On the rare occasion it flickered, I refused to acknowledge it and I would never admit it out loud. But he did — to the person who caused the fear, no less. One thing kept circling in the back of my head — Roan came back, even after everything I’d done. He didn’t tell the police who I was, or I would have been arrested by now. He didn’t stay away, locked safely in his father’s mansion. No, he wandered the streets of Chicago asking to speak to the man who’d kidnapped him, beaten him, and did disgusting things to his cock.

I put as much distance between us as possible. Exhaling a breath, I kept my back to him and closed my eyes. Despite my efforts, I could still remember how ...

“I know whenever you get close to me, you can’t keep your hands off of me. I bet you’re hard right now.”

His mouth hovered over mine, his stunning eyes staring right through me, like he knew my dirtiest secret. Then his lips were on mine. Full and soft and so fucking trusting. Seizing his face between my hands, I dug my fingers into the back of his skull. I could crush it. I should crush it and end the twisted feelings snaking their way through my insides.

“You can’t help who you love any more than you can help how tall you are or what color your skin is. It’s not a fucking choice, it just is.” Shaking his head, he looked away sharply, his hands balled into fists. “What do you see when you look at me?” I asked, spreading my hands to the sides. “Do I look sick? Do I look like someone you should torture and kill because I’m gay? How about when you look in the mirror?”

“Go on, kill me,” I spat with what little air I had left. “It doesn’t change a goddamn thing about either of us.” Breathing hard, his fingers tightened. I was convinced he was going to do it — he was finally going to kill me. With one quick jerk, he pulled me forward. My mouth crashed against his, teeth and tongues colliding. I wasn’t kissing him so much as being kissed, with anger and need and desperation. The hand on my throat slipped around to the back, threading through my hair to cradle the back of my head.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, his voice tight. “You. All of you.” The sudden desire for skin-on-skin contact was overwhelming. I pulled my shirt off and cast it aside. He sat up so quickly I thought he was going to run, but he didn’t. He grabbed my waist with both hands and pulled me forward, pressing kisses to my abdomen.

“Please,” I exhaled. “You’re killing me.” “Please what?” He dragged the tip of his tongue along my thigh before biting it and sucking the sensitive skin. I gasped before spitting out the answer. “Touch me. I want you to touch me.”

He crawled up my body slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. I still didn’t know why they called him the Wolf, but at that moment, with the way his pale eyes were locked on me, the moniker fit perfectly.

“Thank you,” I murmured, turning my face toward him and trying not to laugh. Apparently playing with fire was my new past time and I couldn’t get enough of it. His gaze snapped to mine, flashing with irritation, but the slight curve to his mouth gave him away. I discovered the impossible — his armor had a chink in it. “What the fuck did I say about that?” I shrugged innocently. “I guess I don’t listen.” He snorted. “Yeah. No shit…”

“Does anything bother you?” “Yeah.” I flicked some ash off the end, squinting at him. “You.”

Staying right where I was, I finished my cigarette, trying to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do now. I had the key and technically I still had Roan. It wouldn’t take much to knock him out and drag him back to the safe house. Or, I could leave. Get dressed, walk out the door, and never see him again. That would have been the smarter thing to do. Roan was worried about cancer; I was worried about an even darker disease. It already claimed Pavel and now it was poised to take me too. No matter how much I screamed at myself internally or punished my body for reacting the way it did, I couldn’t stop it.

No, I couldn’t let him go only to keep stalking him. Seeing him, even from a distance, was a reminder I didn’t need.

My hands rested on his hips while I kissed him slowly. I nipped at his lower lip and kissed his chin, making my way along his jaw and down to his throat. Sinking my teeth into the side of his neck, I sucked his skin, relishing the taste and the way he whimpered. His lips were already dark and swollen, but it could have passed as natural. I wanted to mark him for the world to see, to know he was taken.

I had to get away from him. Now. Being this close to him made me want things I shouldn’t want. It made him want things he shouldn’t want. Staying was a bad idea. I saw that now.

My fists clenched so hard the bones felt like they were about to snap. “Someone has to die. That’s how it goes. So it will either be you or someone who looks like you.” “It doesn’t have to be that way.” His optimism was cute. Misplaced, but cute. So very American of him. “It does,” I said quietly.

The lines of his face softened, his shoulders drooping. “Are you going to come back?” I swallowed and stared at the door behind his head. I couldn’t look at the sadness replacing his anger. He knew the answer the moment he asked the question.

The door swung open the rest of the way and I walked out, staring straight ahead. I hadn’t looked back at Pavel’s corpse and I wouldn’t let myself look back to see the cracks in Roan’s golden shell.

With a startled yelp, Freddy was gone. I turned in time to see him get slammed onto the hood of his own car by one very pissed off Russian.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snapped. He cocked his head, but didn’t say anything. He stood there, arms crossed, watching me with an infuriatingly blank expression. “You can’t go around strangling people!”

He was the type of guy used to getting his way the first time around. Unfortunately for him, I was the type who didn’t let shit go.

He turned to go, but I grabbed his elbow. When he jerked back around, his other hand was clenched in a fist. I flinched, but it didn’t come flying at my head. Surprisingly. Guess that was progress.

“What if I come see you?” He took a step forward, his teeth on edge. “What did I say? Don’t ever go back there. Don’t ask about me. Forget I exist.” “I can’t,” I admitted quietly. As much as I may have wanted to, there was no way I could forget about him. Not just the kidnapping, or the bank robbery, but everything else that had happened — the burning looks he gave me, the way his hands touched me, so powerful but so uncertain. Memories of him were seared into my skin as permanently as the tattoos were in his. I didn’t know what any of it meant, but I knew I’d regret just walking away without trying to figure it out.

He still seemed irritated, so I was surprised when he lifted his hand to my throat, brushing the pad of his thumb over the remnants of his hickey. The barest hint of a smile pulled up one side of his mouth, pleased by only God knew what.

Despite his icy exterior, I’d come to associate Sasha with fire — a fiery touch, a fiery temper, and fiery passion when he let his guard down.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Frankie muttered. I expelled a breath and looked down at the card. “Me too.”

I waited while Roan climbed out of the car, staring up at the building. His gaze dropped from the sign above the restaurant, landing on me, and a smile spread across his face. It was so infectious, I almost smiled back. Almost.

“Hi!” Roan chirped, actually waving to the old bat. I smacked his hand down. “Don’t talk to her.” He frowned. “Why not?” “She’s not nice.” “You’re not nice,” Roan countered.

Roan broke away, hissing between his teeth. “Fuck, Sasha. What are you doing to me?” Running my hands up his back, I let my fingers dive into his hair, twisting in the longest part of it. As soon as he tipped his head back, I kissed his throat and nipped the side of his neck. “I don’t know, but you’re making me fucking crazy,” I growled, pushing his head back toward my mouth and reclaiming his lips.

The noises he made were like music to my ears, swearing and groaning and occasionally my name. He may have been fascinated by me for whatever reason, but I was enraptured with him. I loved touching him, tasting him, making him feel pleasure after I’d inflicted so much pain. I couldn’t take any of that back, but I could give him this, if only for a moment.

The voices in my head, cursing me for wanting this — for wanting him — screamed at me as I nudged my cock up against his entrance. A shiver ripple through him, or maybe it was my hand trembling. I couldn’t tell. To stop it, I gripped his hip and pushed into him as gently as I could.

My cock wasn’t even all the way in, but it already felt amazing. Being inside of him was everything I’d ever dreamed about, and everything that was going send me straight to Hell.

“Oh my God. You’re so fucking tight.” The feeling was so euphoric, I could barely breathe. I held on to either side of his hips and pulled back slightly before thrusting in again. He moaned, meeting each of my tentative thrusts with a flick of his hips.

“God, don’t stop, Sasha. Please don’t fucking stop.” “I’m so close. I don’t—” “Harder. I’m right there.”

“That was fucking amazing,” he breathed. “Yeah,” I murmured, trying to remember how to speak — in any language.

“I think I have a problem,” I said, staring at the ceiling above his bed. Sasha propped himself on his elbow, frowning. “What problem? Tell me. I’ll fix it.”

After this was done, I was supposed to get on a plane and exile myself back to Siberia until the cold froze all indecent thoughts of this exasperating boy and cooled the desires he provoked.

The fact we were out in public made my heart stutter, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He was like a drug I couldn’t kick. I tried, and failed. I didn’t want to try anymore. I didn’t care if I went straight to Hell. Roan was the first good thing in my life and I wasn’t going to give him up.

Resting my forehead against his, I closed my eyes, keeping my hands on either side of his face. “I’m not going anywhere, Solnyshko.”

The sparkle was back in his eyes, my little sun once more.

“What are you doing?” Roan asked, pushing back into his seat, eyes wide. Holding the gun by the barrel, I held it out to him so he could take the grip. “Take this.” “What? No.” I grabbed his hand and slapped it against the grip, forcibly curling his fingers around it. “If anyone but me comes to the car, shoot them.” “Sasha!” “You have fifteen rounds. There’s no safety. Just pull the trigger.” I squeezed his hand briefly and got out of the car.

“What are you doing? I told you to stay in the car.” Worry marred every part of Roan’s face, from his eyes to the downward curve of his mouth. His hand lifted, like he was going to touch me, but he clenched it into a fist and dropped it again, flicking a cautious glance at Eduard. “It looked like something was wrong.” Sighing, I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his. So brave and so fucking stupid. He didn’t even bring the gun with him. I didn’t know what his brilliant plan had been, but I appreciated the gesture all the same.

“Then what the fuck are we still doing here? Kill the kid, burn the drive, and lay low for a while.” “I can’t.” Saying those two words out loud to someone like Eduard, someone from my world, was excruciating. Failure, weakness — it wasn’t tolerated. Even if I said it in Russian, so Roan couldn’t hear hear how pathetic I was, my stomach still seized. “Why not?” “I just... can’t.” Admitting I couldn’t stay away from him almost gutted me, but actually staying away would have been a far worse pain. There were no words to explain it, it was just a feeling I had, the need to be near him. The only thing I could liken it to was the feeling you got in the dead of winter, when sunlight washed over you and held the cold at bay. I didn’t want to go back to the cold now that I knew I could feel something else, something better.

“I shot her.” His jaw dropped, eyes widening like I sucker punched him. “You what?! Why? Why would you do that?” “Because I wish someone would have shot me.” My spine straightened, reaffirming my belief in my own decision, despite his horror. “She’s better off.”

“You want to know?” Sasha snapped, throwing the car into park. “I have them because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. From the moment I saw you. Every impure thought I had, I tried to burn out. At first I told myself it was part of the research, all the thoughts. But then I had you and I still couldn’t stop.”

I sprinted up the stairs, listening for anything that would point me to where Sasha was. It wasn’t all that hard — I just followed the sound of Russians swearing and shit breaking.

“Da.” Sasha smiled brightly. It was a beautiful sight to behold — and terrifying. Like his laugh, his smile was so uncharacteristic and so out of place in the middle of a fucking standoff, I didn’t know how to feel about it.

“So you’re kidnapping me again?” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, smirking. “Think of it as… sleepover.” “You’re not funny,” I huffed, slinking down in my seat and crossing my arms.

“I’ve watched a lot of people over the years when they think no one is looking. You learn people that way. I learned you that way,” I said quietly. His head swiveled toward me, suspicion tightening the corners of his eyes. “You don’t want revenge. You want understanding.”