Hunter’s Trial – Get Extended Epilogue
Author: Faye Pierce
Hunter’s Trial – Get Bonus Prologue
Bonus Prologue
Hunter’s Trial – Extended Epilogue
Nikolai
One month later
It will never cease to feel strange to me how quickly I’ve adapted to a routine. A real one. Not the fast-paced night life or the constant espionage and games. It’s all so suburban. Breakfast. Taking Liz to school. Picking her up from school. Even more strange to me is just how comfortable it all feels. Liz doesn’t seem scared of me anymore, even if all of her friends do.
Henry tends to avoid me when I pick Liz up from school. I can’t say that I blame him for it either. He’s starting to look more like me as he grows older. Taller, but not the athletic type. Maybe someday, if Liz stays as interested in him as she is now, I will get the chance to get to know him a little better. I know through Daniel that he’s super into reading and music, things I don’t know anything about. We have nothing in common. It’s really for the best that he wound up where he is, with people who understand him in the right way.
I still don’t know if I’ve got the right stuff in me to be a father of my own, but I’m trying the best that I can.
I hold the door open for Liz to get into my car. A truck. I’m really embracing the whole Texas thing. I figured if I was going to fully turn the page over that I need to be as removed from my old self as I could get. No more temptations.
Apart from the hitman, assassin thing.
It’s still strange to me that I have chosen to live so close to my enemies-turned-employers-turned-somewhat-cordial-not-quite-acquaintances. It’s all around strange. Helena and Daniel have been so absorbed in the bliss of their newborn child that work has been slow.
Kate and I finished the renovation of our own house just a week ago. Extra bedrooms and an office added onto a house that is modest. For me. I’m used to mansions, after all. I offered to build something similar to what I had built in the past, but Kate insisted that she didn’t want to have to call me from across the house anytime she wanted to talk to me. She chose a six bedroom, two story house with a finished attic. Office for her, office for me, guest bedroom and then Liz’s room. Full master suite with properly soundproofed walls. She swears that she’s going to come up with something to do with the extra bedroom.
Now that the kitchen renovations and landscaping are the way that she wanted them she’s thrown herself into wedding planning. How she’s doing that while running her new firm, I have no idea. All I know is that she unofficially asked both Anya and Helena to be her bridesmaids. She suggested that I should ask Alek and Daniel to stand by me as groomsmen, but it doesn’t feel right. Horus perhaps, but that isn’t a relationship that’s repaired itself yet either. There’s no more bad blood, but it will take time.
I think the best thing about learning to proxy parent with Liz is that she makes everything so easy. She does all of the talking now that she’s decided I’m not scary. She tells me about everything that happens at school and her interests. She speaks at great length about the cartoons that she likes and the cat that she’s planning to ask her mother to get her. She tells me in great detail how I’m supposed to be on her side about it.
As if I could care less about having a cat in the house.
Though, I am turning into a person who lives in a house with a kid, a fiancée and I apparently will soon own a cat. I never would have imagined such a thing.
Letting my anger go is a constant work in progress, but Kate is always only too ready and willing to be the outlet for any physical aggression that might strike me.
“Can we get ice cream on the way home?! I got an ‘A’ on my English test,” Liz calls from the back seat as we pass her favorite ice cream shop. She starts to rummage around in her backpack for the test to prove her score to me. Like I would have said no to her getting ice cream on the way home.
“Of course we can, zayka.” I answer.
“I’m not a bunny!” Liz giggles from the back seat. Her face flushes pink as she laughs. She always protests when I call her by the nickname that I selected for her, but I’m just pleased that she seems to be remembering more and more Russian words every day.
“No? Then tell me you are not, in Russian, or else I cannot understand you, zayka,” I grin right back to her.
She pretends to pout, but I get her the ice cream anyway.
I’m a man who gets his soon to be stepdaughter ice cream after school.
Kate made all of this possible. I have no idea where I would even be without her and Liz. No matter what, I’m going to make this marriage work. Kate is the love of my life.
Her car is in the driveway of our house when Liz and I pull in.
She should be at the firm for another three hours. Said that she was going to pick up Chinese takeout on the way home tonight so that we could watch some movie she wanted to see. Granted, Liz has to finish homework first. She’s been doing so well lately that most of her work has been completed before she ever even gets home with it. I think Henry’s studious influence has a lot to do with that. She had even tried getting bad grades to have him tutor her but it backfired when he found out her plan.
“Mom’s home!” Liz bounces in her seat with excitement. Her hand flies to the car door handle and I have to stop her from hurling herself out of it to get to her favorite person.
“Not until the car’s stopped, zayka!” If I had known that she was going to be home, I would have gotten her some ice cream as well. I check my phone just to make sure that I didn’t miss a text from her saying that she was coming home early before getting out of the car. But there’s nothing there.
The moment the car stops, Liz is running inside to find her mother. I think the fact that both of them have managed to resume normal lives without constantly looking over their shoulders in fear is my greatest accomplishment. I’m glad we will get to spend more time together tonight.
I hang my keys on the post by the front door and kick it shut behind me.
Kate’s standing in the foyer with Liz wrapped around her, telling her about her day. It only takes one look to know that something is wrong. My defenses automatically come up.
“Zayka, isn’t your show coming on right now? The special episode?” I ask Liz.
“Oh yeah!” Liz squeals and runs off without another thought.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when Liz is out of hearing range. Kate seems to pale at the very question. I pull her hand into mine and kiss it softly. “What happened?”
Mentally, I start to check off all of the places that I have guns stashed in this house and how quickly I can get to them. It just depends on the next words that are going to come out of her mouth.
I pull her closer when she doesn’t answer, keeping my eyes locked on hers. I need her to say something soon so that I stop thinking about every possible worst case scenario option.
Over the months that we’ve been together now, I’ve told her a good number of the things that I’ve been accused of. But there are still some rather questionable things about my past that I’m more than a little ashamed of. Things that I would rather her not know. Doors to my past that just need to be kept shut for both of our sanity. If she found out something about them and is starting to look at me differently because of it, I don’t think that I will be able to handle that either.
I can’t stand the idea of Kate, of all people, being afraid of me. If she leaves me I will have nothing. My whole world is now focused on her and that’s the way that I want it. We’re getting married. A real, big ceremony, because that’s what Kate wants. To think that we are so close to all that makes me feel absolutely sick when I think that I could still lose her.
My guilt runs the risk of my sabotaging the best thing that I’ve ever had on a daily basis. I can’t let it.
Kate looks up at me, tears welling in her eyes as she tries to speak and can’t seem to find the words. Her hands slip from mine and she turns, heading into the kitchen and further away from Liz. I’m scared to ask her for a second time what’s wrong. It is bad. It is something terrible.
“If you don’t tell me what’s happened, baby girl, I think that I’m going to go insane.” I say to her, retreating. She doesn’t acknowledge my words at all as she walks behind the kitchen island and reaches into the messy drawer that contains all the spare odds and ends from the various decoration projects that she’s been doing. She places down a bundle of white plastic sticks on the counter. There’s got to be at least a dozen of them. Various shapes and manufacturers.
But all of them have two very distinct pink lines on the result windows.
Time freezes. I feel dizzy and lightheaded as everything snaps into place. For a moment, my mind goes completely and utterly still. I can’t look away from them. Kate’s pregnant. She’s pregnant with a baby, a human baby.
My baby.
My black eyes flick up to hers. She’s nervously chewing on her lip, waiting for my response. She didn’t know how I was going to react, and that’s why she was scared. It’s not like it’s something that we’ve outright spoken or made real plans about. But then again, filling her like I do every chance that I get was only going to end one way.
“Say something.” Kate says finally.
A smile spreads slowly across my face. The glimmer of hope that I never allowed myself to dare to have.
I move to the side of the island that she’s standing on and sink to my knees in front of her. My hands bracket her hips, thumbs sweeping under the bottom of her shirt to graze against her perfect, impossibly soft skin.
“I must have done something right.” I say with reverence. Karma must have started to forgive me if it’s actually going to give me the chance to be the father that I never had.
“You’re not upset?” Kate asks nervously as her hands close over the tops of mine.
“Upset?” I look up at her with furrowed brows. “I’m thrilled.” I lift her shirt just enough to kiss her belly. “Our child is in here.”
Kate giggles, a tear rolling down her face before she sinks to her knees in front of me. Her arms wrap around my shoulders as she pulls herself closer to me and holds me tightly. I kiss her passionately. Every bit of hope that the new promising future holds is poured into that kiss. “No matter what it takes, I’m going to be the loving father that I never had. I swear it on my life.”
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Hunter’s Trial – Bonus Prologue
Nikolai
What now?
The words keep rattling around in my head. I think those two words are the only things keeping me from actually going insane.
The heating in our efficiency flat got turned off over a week ago. There hadn’t been any food in the fridge in at least two weeks now so it didn’t really matter. I had managed to get enough blankets from the thrift shop two streets over to make it into the next month. I had tried to pay the rent for mom but before I had even gotten the chance, she had taken the money from me. The winnings from my fights should have been enough to feed us and keep the roof over our heads for at least one more month. It wasn’t quite enough to put the power back on, but we would have made it. We had lived through worse.
Tonight’s fight had been bad enough that I was almost tempted to go to the clinic for stitches. The gash over my right eye was going to leave a wicked scar, but now it’s the least of my problems. I’ve only been home an hour. Cans of soup from the food pantry are now left discarded by the door because she’s not going to be able to eat them. She’s not going to be able to do anything ever again.
Mother’s lips are blue.
Her skin pale and waxy. Her eyes open and fogged over, unseeing as she lies half on the busted leather couch and half hanging off of it. Rubber tubing around her arm and track marks littering too much skin. A habit that she swore a million times that she would kick. She had been clean for a month. I don’t know what happened today. I guess I’ll never have an answer to that question now. It’s done. She’s gone. My mother. The only person I had in the world to call family and she’s just… gone.
There’s nothing to keep me here.
I could call the cops. I could stay and answer uncomfortable questions and get profiled for my heavy Russian accent. Assuming that they would be willing to come to this side of town anyway.
I have seen dead bodies before. Doing what I do and living the way we do, it’s just something that happens. Usually don’t give them a second glance, but Mother? I can’t seem to tear my eyes off her, no matter what I do. My eyes are burning. I don’t think that I’ve blinked since I got home.
She’s going to rot into that couch. How long before she gets all stiff? Should I cover her up with the blanket? Where will I sleep if I do?
I can’t stay here.
I can’t sleep next to her corpse.
But I don’t have anywhere else to go.
Only, I do. It’s just not somewhere I want to go.
I’m frozen for who knows how long. I sit in silent vigil, kneeling by the couch where she lay, thinking about all of the things that she would never get to do, all of the promises that I made to her over the years. That I was going to get us out of this mess and make sure that we lived in better circumstances. Now I’m never going to get to fulfill a single one. Even if I go and make something of myself, she won’t be there to see it.
Hours pass and my legs have long since gone numb. I pull the ratty blanket up and over her before leaving the apartment exactly the way that I found it. I don’t have any personal belongings in here anyway. Nothing of value. I pull the hood of my jacket up and bury my hands deep into my pockets as I head out onto the street, which is quiet and cold tonight. I turn my father’s business card inside of my pocket as I walk.
What choice do I have?
He might be a bastard, but I owe it to my mother to do something, to make something of myself like I promised that I would, in her memory. I can’t wallow forever. I either follow her, or I have to make the best that I can out of the situation.
I’m a fighter, through and through. It has to mean something that today is the very last day of Roman’s offer to join him. I avoided the gangs up until now, but I knew that I could never run forever.
Moscow might be nice. Mother always said I should go. Whatever training I can get there has to be worth it. Whatever he wants me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll rise through the ranks from the bottom, if that’s what it takes.
Someday, I’ll take control of the damned Bratva and show the world who I really am. This could be the first real break that I’m getting and I’m not going to waste it.
Pain, anger, regret all swirl inside of me as I head to the address that Roman put on the card he left for me. I can’t even imagine what he’s going to say. Thinking about it is better than focusing on the numbness that’s creeping its way through my body.
Mother’s life of pain and her sacrifices aren’t going to be for nothing.
At least her suffering is over now.
I end up at a derelict looking warehouse missing a good half of its windows. The metal double doors are parted slightly for me, and I let myself inside. The dim lighting is sparse, but I have been to enough places like this to know how to find my way around. Head down, keep quiet and act like you belong there. Usually works like a charm.
I take the metal stairs down into the basement where I can hear people talking. Men loading things onto vehicles and packing other things into larger wooden crates. People milling about, but everybody appears to have a purpose. Not a single idle hand to be seen. I can appreciate when an organization operates like a well-oiled machine.
Is this what I have to look forward to?
I find my father by a loading dock, holding a clipboard with a cigar hanging out of the side of his mouth. I don’t say a word as I go to stand beside him. He only glances at me for the shortest of seconds.
“Was wondering when your sorry ass would show up.” Roman says more to himself than to me. He chuckles softly as he checks something on the clipboard. A second later he snaps his fingers and somebody shows up to take it from him seemingly out of nowhere.
“The offer still stands?” I ask without elaborating.
Roman turns then, taking a really good look at me, sizing me up. “Walk with me.”
It’s not a request, it’s a command.
I do as told, quietly walking alongside my father as we wind deeper into layers of this building that shouldn’t even be possible.
“I won’t pretend to know what caused your change of heart, Nikolai, nor do I care. What I care about is what you can offer me. I plan to invest quite a bit into making you my heir if, and when, you earn that title. It will not be an easy path for you to walk. You understand this?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have any room for people who question my orders. In this Bratva, I am king. What I say goes and is done without any hesitation. Those who cannot follow that one simple rule… well, I have no tolerance for useless men.” Roman warns. The threat lingering between us is more than clear. He doesn’t want a son. Not really. What Roman truly wants is a soldier. A weapon. I’ve already proved that I can be the former.
“My generosity doesn’t come free either, Nikolai.”
We stop in front of a familiar looking ring. I’ve never been here before, of course, but I can tell a fighting ring when I see one. It’s clean now, but the metallic scent of blood never truly leaves a place. This one’s lined in sand, uneven, surrounded by arching metal bars. One entrance in, and one way out. Unlike the fighting rings that I’ve been in before, I have no doubt that this sort of fight doesn’t stop when somebody taps out or is knocked unconscious.
It’s a test.
The first of many, I would be willing to bet.
“Only way into my Bratva is through blood, Nikolai. I will not make an exception just because you are my son. You must win your fight and prove yourself. Do this, or you will be useless to me as well.” Roman says plainly. There’s a glimmer of something on his weathered face that I can’t quite place. If I’m not mistaken, it almost looked hopeful. “Make me proud.”
Like there’s any other option?
I let my leather coat and hoodie slide off my arms and I drape them over the closest railing before hopping down those four steps into the pit, just like I’m supposed to do. At least this is something that I’m good at. This is something that I can do.
Hell, it’s what I need if I’m being perfectly honest. An outlet to channel all the rage and grief that’s going to turn into toxic sludge inside of me if I don’t get it out quickly.
The man that drops into the pit in front of me is at least twice my size and ten years older, covered in tattoos and scars. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. But, if the son of the leader can’t take him, just as Roman said, I would be useless. No time for complaining. The brute comes thundering toward me, each footstep sending vibrations through the ground and up my legs. I’m big for my age in every sense of the word. I’m trained and lethal and still light on my feet. It’s a point of pride.
Most of the time.
I don’t even see the man’s ham hock of a fist coming until it collides with the side of my head. I hadn’t dropped my guard. There’s no way he broke through it – and yet I feel like he knocked my brain loose inside of my skull. My ears start to ring and my fucking teeth rattle in place. I stagger back a few steps.
I glance at Roman and he’s completely unimpressed.
If this brute hits that hard every time, I’m not going to make it out of this fight alive, if things get dragged out. I have to end this quickly. There’s no other way around it. A strange need to make Roman proud seems to come out of nowhere. Strong and undiluted as I turn my mind off and slip into that calm, quiet place that always helps me win my fights. A mental place where nothing but the opponent directly in front of me seems to exist any longer.
It’s not a fair match.
That doesn’t stop me.
Everything seems to go blurry as the assault on my body only seems to get worse. Punch after punch, no matter how much I try to get away, and no tactic that I’ve used before seems to make even the slightest bit of difference. Just when I think that I’m about to lose and surrender to the pain something inside of me snaps. The black dots at the edge of my vision seem to spread and the wheezing in my lungs gets worse. Then there’s nothing. No sights, no sounds, no more pain, just the burning in my muscles as they take over for me. Every hateful emotion that I’ve felt for the last few years of my horrible life seems to bubble to the surface in a way that I can’t stop or control. I surrender to it. I let my body become a tool of rage upon my opponent.
I’ve never killed anyone before.
Broken ribs. Sprained everything. Concussed would be putting it lightly. Blood seems to be pouring out of me when the ringing in my ears stops and the striking silence of the men outside of the fighting ring suddenly registers.
Through the eye that’s still open I turn to look at Roman, resting on his elbows against the railing with a shit eating grin plastered onto his face and his cigar clamped in his teeth.
Did I do good? I can’t ask, but I swear he understands me anyway.
Roman nods subtly, and motions for somebody to come and scoop me up.
Approval. Praise. Acceptance.
It’s enough.
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Hunter’s Trial (Preview)
Chapter One
Kate
6 months ago
I take just a moment longer to pull my hair from the bun that I’ve had it in all day. Billy likes my hair down. Long bright blonde ringlets fall past my shoulders in waves and curl prettily around my face as I fluff up my hair just a little. I re-button the top few buttons of my blouse that I had undone and adjust things to be a touch more modest. I reapply a thin coat of lip gloss on my full lips and rub some of the blush from my cheeks before grabbing the bag of takeout food that I’ve brought home. Billy will be happy that I came home early. I’ve been busting my ass to get this case closed early. The higher ups were so thrilled with my work that they are even giving me a bonus. Billy will be thrilled! I can just see the look on his face now when I tell him that we can expect a hefty sum to be deposited into our joint accounts in the next couple weeks. Maybe I can even convince him to spend a little bit to take Liz to the zoo this weekend. I could make a picnic and we could make a whole day out of it!
Now we can watch that streaming movie that everybody is talking about, have a family night and have a good dinner that I don’t have to cook. It’s shaping up to be a pretty damned good evening. We need a good evening. It’s been far too long since it’s just been… easy.
I balance everything carefully in my arms as I kick the car door shut with my foot and start to head inside of our ranch style three bedroom. There have been times where I felt that maybe our starter home was a touch too modest, but not today. I don’t think that there’s much that could dampen my spirits today.
At least, not until I hear the crying.
My heart drops into my ass instantly. My keys nearly fall out of my trembling hands as I hurry to open the door, already fearing the absolute worst. It’s a strange sort of adrenaline that nearly knocks me off my feet. I drop the take-out food to the ground and hear it squelch on the ground as it falls, but I can’t bring myself to care. I use my other hand to brace my trembling one. I’m only two seconds from kicking the damned door in when the lock opens and I shoulder my way inside.
“Liz?!” I scream instantly, but my voice cuts off mid-sound.
The source of the crying is abundantly obvious. For one second, just one sharp inhale of breath, I register just what it is that I’m seeing in front of me. Billy is standing up beside the dinner table. The warm yellow light of our outdated fixture creates a sort of circular spotlight on the perverse spectacle in front of me.
Billy’s hand – he always had such large hands, he played just about every sport under the sun in college – is on the back of our young daughter’s head. He’s bowed over close enough to snarl spit into her ear as he screams at her. The raspy voice of his that I had until this very moment always found so endearing is now a deadly venom that will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.
“I don’t get what is so fucking difficult for your tiny little brain to fucking comprehend” Billy shouts as he shoves Elizabeth’s head toward the workbook. He shoves her forward and her forehead hits the workbook and table hard enough that it makes an audible thump. She’s going to have a bruise. He’s hurting her. My husband is hurting my daughter. She’s crying. My mind refuses to put those pieces of information together.
Elizabeth’s tiny hands are braced against the lip of the table so tightly that her skin is white from the pressure of forcing herself away from the table and the splayed open workbook in front of her. It looks like homework. She must have asked for help. She’s found most of her second-grade homework simple, so it must have been her math work. She’s bright, nearly two whole grade levels ahead. Yet, for some reason Billy is mad enough at her that her tears have formed a circle across the workbook that I can see all the way from across the room.
He hasn’t heard me.
He doesn’t know that I’m home yet.
“I’m sorry!” Liz yells through her tears. She doesn’t know why her Daddy is hurting her. She doesn’t understand why anybody would hurt her. I don’t understand why anybody would hurt her.
“I don’t want to hear your bullshit lies! I want you to fucking do better! Always whining! Always complaining! It’s not my fault that you’re stupid!” Billy seethes.
Something in his face chills me to my very marrow.
Something more than rage, more than anger or a fit of his alcoholic rage, there’s pleasure there. He’s enjoying scaring her.
I snap.
One breath, I’m frozen, the next I’m across the living room and tackling my husband. My six foot three, two hundred and something pound husband built like a damned linebacker while I’m only five foot three.
My body colliding into his doesn’t do much more than sway him. But at least it gets his hand off my daughter. “Go to your room!” I snarl at her. I will apologize later. Liz is up from the table a second later, and Billy reaches for her.
“Don’t you fucking leave this table, bitch!” Billy snarls at her as she dodges him and runs as far as she can, howling her whole way down the narrow hallway to her room. I hear the door slam shut and something in my chest loosens only a smidge. Billy rounds on me – something that I expected – those same large hands hitting me in the middle and knocking me back hard enough to lose my breath as I collide with the half wall separating the kitchen and the small dining room space. “Who do you think you are, interrupting me?!”
How many times did her head hit that table?
How long has he been screaming filth at her?
I start to stagger to my feet, and he hits me again – backhands me hard enough that I collapse. My whole body folds around my face as I cradle the injured skin with both hands. It feels like my eye is about to pop out of my skull. My teeth feel rattled.
“Those little shits these days, that’s the only teaching that they know! Their teachers are too soft on them, everybody is too soft on them! She needs to learn!” Billy snarls, spit falling from his mouth and landing in a glob on the carpet between us.
“She’s only six! Billy! Nothing can justify what you were just doing to her!”
“A smack is the only thing that teaches! A good dose of fear will have her acting right!” Billy reasons. I can see in his face that he believes his words. He truly doesn’t think that he’s done anything wrong.
“You want to keep talking back to me?” He sneers at me, and normally when this sort of thing happens, I know better than to get up off the ground. He will go back to his chair and calm down. I’ll bring him another beer and everything will be okay. Tomorrow he will be sober and apologize.
But tonight, instead of leaving me on the ground he starts down the hallway.
I only endure this for her. A girl needs her dad. I sure did growing up. But this? My dad would have never laid a hand on me. I never knew if that was because he wasn’t that sort of man, or if it was because my mother was in the same situation as me but just dealt with it better.
I can’t let him get to Liz.
I would rather die.
I lunge forward, my hands catching the pants leg of his jeans and holding on with everything that I have. He starts to drag me along with him, scraping my body against the carpet as the buttons on my blouse catch and rip open from the friction – I’m going to be covered in carpet burn in the worst of places, but I can’t let go. I can’t.
“Bitch!” Billy yells at me as the foot that I’m clinging to catches, and down he goes. He hits the ground so hard I swear that the whole house shakes. But now he’s mad enough at me that he’s going to forget about our girl, who is likely still crying in her room. That’s all that matters. He just needs to leave her alone.
He scrambles over the carpet to me and crawls on top of me. I slap, hit, and bite every inch of him that I can to at least try to be on the offensive. He grabs hold of my wrists so tightly I swear my bones bark in protest as he pins my arms down on the carpet. He bends forward and bites the first bit of exposed flesh that he can get his teeth on – the swell of my breast. Hard enough that I know he broke skin. I know it. Blinding pain sears through me as I buck and kick and scream and cry.
His fist finds my gut, then my ribs. Never the face, of course, not unless he’s really out of his mind. That’s only happened twice. The slap alone is going to be hard enough to cover up for work tomorrow.
All of my breath whooshes out of me in a wheezed rattle and the fight leaves me. How can it not? It’s not like I could actually win against him. He’s more than twice my size. Fighting for oxygen, Billy sits back, trapping me under his weight and making it just that much harder to breathe.
“You done now?” Billy smirks and grasps my jaw in his hand. There will be bruises from his fingertips. I can already feel them forming. “Sometimes I think you must like it when I get rough with you. You know how stupid it is to fight back, dirty bitch.”
I don’t talk back this time. I know it’s pointless now. Besides, Liz is safe in her room, he won’t touch her now.
“Much better. Now, be a good girl and go touch up your makeup. You look fucking revolting.” Billy smirks and lets go of me roughly. He pushes off me, rolling back through his heels until he’s standing over me.
I know better than to try to stand.
Crying silently, I roll through the pain onto my hands and knees, crawling slowly through the agony that’s building in my ribs. I hope he didn’t break anything. I don’t look back over my shoulder, but I can feel him following me.
“Leave the door open,” he commands as I finally reach the sink and to struggle to my feet. He’s right. I’m revolting. My face is swollen and my makeup is ruined. I grab my makeup wipes and clean my face as carefully as I can. Only then do I dare glance at the reflection of the man watching me so intently from the mirror.
How is this my life?
How did I let this happen? Why am I not strong enough to stop him? I can’t keep doing this.
Even as a fresh tear rolls down my face, I push it away with my hands as I start to apply more makeup to cover the damage he’s done.
“See? It’s much better when you know your place, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.” I answer meekly. The adrenaline has left me and all that I’m left with now is exhaustion.
“Hurry up now. I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”
***
Everything hurts.
More than hurts.
I don’t think I’ve ever had this many bruises before. I think I might need to actually go to a hospital this time. But I don’t have time. Who knows how long he’s going to be asleep. I have to do this now. I can’t let another day like this pass. I can’t. I can’t do it. I could endure it if it meant Liz would grow up with a loving dad, but he hit her too. I can’t let him hit her ever again.
I bite on my lip so hard that it bleeds as I slip from bed to keep from crying. Again, when I pull on the softest pair of sweatpants that I own. I leave my phone. I don’t want him finding me. I take my laptop and slide it into my bag. I pull a loose hoodie over my head and tie my hair up in a messy bun. Only the heirloom jewelry that I entered this marriage with and all the cash that I have saved up. I don’t want to risk trying to take another single fucking thing. It’s going to be hard enough to lift my daughter as it is, when I’m almost positive that he’s broken at least two of my ribs.
I can’t let that stop me now.
I can do this.
In an hour, I’m going to be far, far away from this house of horrors. I can do this. I’m going to be free. Liz won’t grow up thinking that this is okay. I will change that generational curse and I will do better. I swear that I will.
I slip into her room silently, grabbing her shoes and most beloved stuffed animals and shoving them into my purse. I take only a single change of clothes for her to wear tomorrow and stuff that into my purse too. The bag is getting heavy enough that it’s cutting into my shoulders. I bend and scoop her up, still sleeping, blankets and all into my arms. I sway and rock her the best that I can as I silently move through the living room toward the front door.
I jump at shadows and every single sound until I have Liz safely asleep in her car seat in the back of my modest car and slide into the driver’s seat. Moving hurts. I can do this. I can overcome this. I have to. I lock the doors and slowly slide out of the driveway and I don’t breathe again until I’m on the interstate.
I glance at the back seat at my daughter, my whole reason for living, for fighting.
I make a silent vow to her and to myself.
Never again.
Chapter Two
Kate
Present Day
Perhaps the very best thing about divorcing a psychopathic monster is that the experience makes you feel like you can survive absolutely anything.
At the beginning of my career, I used to be scared of coming to the high security prisons like this. I was worried that one of these criminals might find me, and ruin my life. I was constantly worried that somehow, one of them was going to hurt me. Now? I dare them to try. Touch me at your own peril. I know that some of them may see it as a challenge, but I no longer care.
I’m not the meek woman that I once was.
The meeting that I’m headed to today would have made me pause before. But in the last four months at my present firm, I’ve made a reputation for myself. They call me the barracuda. I’m frightening because I’m the very best at what I do. Which is why I’ve been hired to take on the case that absolutely nobody else would touch. Nikolai Volkovich – murderer, former Bratva leader, human trafficker and drug lord. Just to name a few of his former titles. But now? He’s a leashed little cat, harmless as a kitten. Just like all the rest of the poor bastards in this particular high security prison.
My heels click softly on the concrete as I head inside with my chin held high.
I feel the vibrating of my phone in my pocket. I truly do. I recite case details to myself in my head, I try to ignore the fact that my ex-husband has apparently found my new cell phone number and presumably my location. Billy may want me to go back to him badly but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to do it.
I know what the texts are bound to say anyway.
He wants me back. He can’t live without me. How dare I steal his daughter from him and break up our family. If he’s feeling particularly sad, he might be on a rant about how selfish I am. The messages can be anywhere from sweet and adoring to downright menacing. Very on brand for my ex-husband. Good to know that the six months that we have been apart have resulted in no personal growth for him.
It was the opposite for me.
I didn’t realize how desperately I needed freedom for Liz and myself until I had it.
I won’t let that go for anybody.
Never again.
“Ms. Thorne?” The guard beside the gate addresses me with a polite wave and a bow. I smile kindly at him, although I rarely manifest warmth these days. I think I left that behind in my marriage as well. Billy took all the parts of me that were good and light, and he beat them out of me. What’s left? A cruel, business-minded bitch unless I’m dealing with my daughter. I like it that way. I wear my reputation like armor.
I hold up my badge, identifying me and the firm that I work for instead of answering.
The guard’s smile falters and he ushers me inside of the gate quickly. He leads me through the prison slowly, stopping at various security checkpoints. I pointedly ignore all the cat calls and jeers from the inmates that we pass along the way, savoring the fact that they know I’m free and that they will rot behind these bars. Normally, once one enters this particular prison, there is no parole, there is no leaving.
If it weren’t for a very specific addendum in my own contract with Alek, I wouldn’t be here either.
But my new employer has offered me something that I covet, something that I cannot obtain on my own and I know for a fact that he can provide. In addition to generous financial compensation, he’s promised protection for me and Liz. Lifetime protection. Nobody will ever lay a finger on us again.
The guard stops in front of a small square room. No observation windows. Just a table that’s been welded to the floor and two chairs. One of which is also welded into place, for my protection of course. The prisoner inside will have their hands cuffed to the table and their feet chained to the floor. Their waist will be secured to the chair that they sit in. The man will not be able to so much as stand without permission, and he certainly will not be able to touch me. I don’t think that I would have taken this meeting in person otherwise.
“The room is equipped with no microphones, for client and attorney privilege, in accordance with all laws. But there is a live camera feed for your protection. That’s just protocol.” The guard explains. “You will have fifteen minutes with the prisoner, and after that time the light above the exit door will sound an alarm and blink red. Thirty seconds after that and I will enter the room and escort you back out again. Any questions?”
I don’t bother answering. I already knew all of that.
Besides, Alek assured me that the camera feeds would be turned off, thanks to one of his more technologically savvy men. Mr. Volkovich and I will have utter privacy for the next fifteen minutes.
Alek also warned me at great length of all the violent things that Mr. Volkovich is capable of. If it weren’t for that deal I made with Alek, the man who hired me, I would put Nikolai into the dirt myself for the things that he’s done. Heinous, despicable things. I understand better than almost anyone why a woman would need to get divorced from a monster like him at all costs. I know what I’m walking into. I’m prepared.
I certainly did not come unarmed.
The guards missed my ceramic pocketknife and taser – just like Alek promised they would – in case Nikolai pulls anything stupid. I had considered the pepper spray, but that might have caused more harm to him than I could explain away easily. I can’t afford to have any negative reports about this meeting. Not if I’m going to get what I want.
“Ready?” The guard asks.
I nod, holding my attaché case in front of my body as he opens the door and waves me inside. I keep my head held high as I saunter into the room, heels clicking. However, the man at the table isn’t at all what I had thought he was going to be.
The Nikolai Volkovich that had been described to me was supposed to be larger than life. He was supposed to be akin to the boogeyman who haunted children’s nightmares. The man in front of me might have been that once, but the life appears to have been sucked out of him.
I can tell from his frame that he’s in incredible shape. He hasn’t lost any muscle tone, but he’s certainly sicklier and paler than described. His hair isn’t as short as it was in the mug shot that I was given, and the stubble across his chiseled jaw doesn’t look natural on his face. He looks… haggard. A dangerous sort of devilishly handsome. Given the nature of this prison, I’m not wholly surprised. I’m sure that there’s a great deal of people in here that would love nothing more than to have his guts for garters. No wonder he’s been so willing to cooperate with everything that I’ve requested of him thus far. He must want out of here something fierce.
Even still, I don’t want to come within five feet of him.
But I don’t have a choice.
His soulless black eyes track my every movement as I cross the room and delicately slide into the metal chair provided for me. His posture is nearly relaxed. There are no lines of tension in his shoulders and his bound hands are uncurled. Like a lion in wait. He’s taking my measure, I’m certain of it. I cross my legs at the ankles, ignoring the way that I can feel his eyes raking over my body. I’m dressed fairly modestly today, despite the tailored cut of my outfit. Pencil skirt and blazer, emerald green silk blouse tucked into my skirt. Modest, natural makeup suits me best when I have to bother with it at all. I don’t like what a lot of makeup on my face tends to trigger within me, so If I can avoid it now, I do.
“Are you my birthday present?” Nikolai asks, his thick Russian accent curling around the words to make such a simple statement sound utterly filthy.
Chauvinistic pig.
“I am your attorney.” I answer flatly as I pull out a legal pad and a pen. I click it pointedly and train my hand in a writing position before I deign to grace him with a look. “I was under the impression that you were the one who requested this meeting.”
Nikolai’s tongue presses into the top of his mouth. I see the exact moment that his attention dips to my breasts. I am tempted to throw my pen at his damned head, but he would likely use it as a weapon somehow. A man like him? With his reputation? You never can be too careful.
He slowly eases back into his chair and shrugs a shoulder. “Can’t blame a man for hoping.”
I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a man be quite so comfortable in his damned skin. Even now that he’s a shadow of his former glory, I can easily see why so many women fall for him. Visually, he’s damned attractive. He’s got every bad boy aesthetic in the world going for him. Tall, muscled, jawline that you want to ride, perfect hands and tattoos covering most of his exposed skin. I have absolutely no doubt that if I were to crawl over this table and straddle him, that he would give me the most mind-blowing orgasms that I’ve ever had. Sometimes you can just see it in a man.
But unfortunately for him, I’m not like the other women whose lives he’s ruined.
He’s not going to benefit from the fact that my own trauma has ensured that I need that sort of man to get off. I have plenty of other options for that.
“I assure you, Mr. Volkovich, that this will be an entirely professional exchange between us. I will not allow a conflict of interest to jeopardize my case, or my perfect track records.” I say plainly, but I can’t help but smirk at the end. “I’m sure it is surprising to you, that a woman could keep from dropping her panties at the mere sight of you, but I’m sure you will live.”
The corner of Nikolai’s lip quirks up. I can see the exact moment that he takes the challenge that I’ve presented for him.
Maybe I’m a bit of a sadist. Maybe I do like the violence his gaze promises.
Nikolai leans forward in his metal chair, the chains around his body clinking softly as he narrows his focus down on me. “I know the cameras are off, are you sure that that you don’t want to give me a little present?”
My nose wrinkles in distaste. The only thing that I’m likely to give him is a swift kick in the balls if he doesn’t stop coming on to me. I keep my face stern and disinterested despite the hungry look he’s giving me. I’ve handled myself against worse. “Mr. Volkovich, if you aren’t going to take my counsel seriously, then why am I even here?”
Nikolai grins and it transforms his whole expression into something that nearly takes my breath away. I have to cross and re-cross my legs under the table under the intensity of his expression. It’s not joy, not at all. It’s something sinister, but alluring. He was testing me. I can see it. He notices the moment that I catch on, too.
“Can’t be represented by somebody so easily swayed, now can I?” Nikolai shrugs.
“And if I had said yes?”
Nikolai shrugs a shoulder away and feigns an innocent expression. “Win win for me then.”
“How about we stick to business, Mr. Volkovich?” I pull the paperwork that I have come here to have him sign from my bag. I pointedly ignore the way my phone vibrates in my bag, the screen illuminating every few moments from the barrage of texts and calls that I’m getting. I don’t know how that bastard Billy keeps calling despite me blocking his number every time. I have changed my number three times already and he just keeps finding me. I take a calming breath and place the neatly organized paperwork on the table in front of Nikolai. “As I was saying–”
He cuts me off and looks at my bag. “Something the matter?”
“No, nothing. Thank you for asking.”
“That’s twice today that you’ve lied to me, and I’m supposed to trust you to represent me?”
He wants me to ask him what it is that I’ve lied about. I’m not going to play into his little games. “I don’t think you have much of a choice, do you? Seeing as I’m the only lawyer on this continent willing to represent you, let alone woman.”
The muscle in his sharp jawline ticks. He knows that I’m right.
Now it’s my turn to smirk.
I tilt my head to the side and bat my long lashes at him pointedly. “You do know that it’s greatly beneficial for a woman to have been assigned your case, don’t you? I would think that instead of sitting here testing me when I’ve more than earned my reputation, you should be attempting to convince me that you’re a man worth saving. I am the last thing between you and the death penalty. Your smart mouth won’t stop that poison from being injected into your veins. Will it, Mr. Volkovich?”
Sitting before me is a man that has been in control of every single aspect and person in his life for a very long time. Nothing happened in his Bratva without his permission. Nobody moved an inch without his say so. Being helpless here and at the mercy of a petite blonde woman? It’s got to be driving him absolutely mad.
I tuck my ankles under the chair and lean forward. I make sure that the angle of my arms pushes my cleavage up for his perusal and lean into the airheaded bimbo act that so many men like to think that I am. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
“You can sit there and think of all of the ways that you would handle a woman like me. You can imagine bending me over this table and hate-fucking me all you want. Whatever you need to do in order to sleep at night, Mr. Vokovich. But it will do nothing to change the facts here. I have you by the balls in all of the ways that you don’t want. If you don’t start doing exactly as I say, when I say it, then it’s not going to work very well for you. Understand, pumpkin?” I wink at him for good measure before sliding the papers toward him with the ballpoint pen. “Be a good boy and sign these papers for me so that I can do my job. Then, when you’re breathing free air again, we can see whose dick is really bigger. Mine or yours.”
I’ve got him. We both know it.
I ease back into my chair as he stews in his anger. He has to let me talk to him however I want. He’s helpless. I don’t think he’s ever had to sit with that particular emotion before in his life. I’m happy to be the one to cause the feeling. Nikolai takes the pen, clicking it angrily while he scowls. I won’t even try to deny the thrill of feeling powerful over a man like Nikolai as he signs page after marked page. When he’s finished, he flicks the papers toward me and I take them with a saccharine sweet smile. “Good boy.”
Nikolai’s grin widens into something bordering on feral. The lack of emotion shining back at me through those black eyes almost makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Somewhere deep in me awakens a very real and primal urge to run from him. Nobody with a soul can look like that.
Dammit if it isn’t fucking sexy though.
I stand on my side of the table, frozen, as his tongue wets his lips before he speaks.
“For the record, mine’s going to be bigger.”
I sure hope it is.
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Fabio
Six Years Ago
“Have you seen Eva?” Salvatore alters my train of thought, his face disgruntled in that way that tells me he is a little irritated by something or someone, in this case, would be Eva.
“No,” I continue by folding the sleeves of my black dress shirt.
“It’s her birthday. My father said something about her not liking her cake, so we got her three extra cakes. Can you tell her to get the hell back inside if you find her?”
“Have you checked the…” I flick my hand in the direction of her soon-to-be studio. She recently picked up this thing with photography and requested a studio for her eighteenth birthday.
“I will burn that place to the ground pretty soon,” he clicks his teeth. If you find her, tell her to come inside,” he shoots a stare in the direction of the soon-to-be studio.
“She is allowed to do whatever she wants, Salvatore, and if she wants to own a studio, so fucking be it,” I stand from the passenger seat of my car and adjust myself, waiting for him to take a cue and leave.
I left the door open because I needed fresh air. I needed to think of the best way to end the Bratva problem. Boris, some Russian idiot who had killed Emanuele’s wife four years ago, is at it again, and I hate that Emanuele is choosing to tread with caution.
“Yeah, whatever,” Salvatore starts to go back inside.
“What did you say?” I knit my brows together, and he stops.
“I was referring to Eva and her wanting a studio,” he grumbles. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he corrects. “Fabio,” he swallows.
I know he is a rebellious child, but his father seems more interested in preening him into leader material. I will beat the rudeness out of him, and his father will thank me for it.
“I will get Eva,” I flip him off, and he nods and then goes inside the house. He is such a clumsy fellow. And this new thing about his pants not staying on his waist is getting on my nerves.
He doesn’t look over his shoulder because he knows I am watching him. Instead, he pulls his jeans up, jeans that are a little too small, and even his fucking white T-shirt looks like he got it for someone way younger than him.
I wait until I am sure he has disappeared inside, then let my eyes wander to the soon-to-be studio. I saw her go in there earlier.
I didn’t want to go after her.
She seemed a little sad, and I get it. She is still not used to spending her birthdays without her mother. This is the fourth birthday in a row that she will be spending without her mother or celebrating without friends because her father is still trying to be cautious after losing his wife.
Emanuele is still mourning, and no one knows for how long.
I head for the studio, wishing I could do something to improve her day. I already ordered a camera for her but that might not mean much because her father is more than capable of providing her with whatever brand of camera she needs. He will double it as compensation for his shortcomings.
She wants the warmth and love that used to exist in this home, but we cannot provide that.
I stop in front of the studio and knock on the door.
She doesn’t answer, but I know she is inside because I see the light coming from the crack on the sides of the door. I invite myself in, moving the still-under-construction door aside, and then once inside, I move it back into place.
“Eva,” my voice echoes, and I shove both hands in my pockets, staring at wide blue, teary eyes staring up at me from where she sits on the floor.
“I want to be alone,” she sniffles, and I take long strides to cover the space, then crouch in front of her.
“Hey,” I tuck her hair behind her ears, and she leans her head into my touch. “It’s your eighteenth birthday.”
“And I hate my cake,” she sniffs.
“Is it the cake?” My eyes drop to the tip of a bottle behind her and then back to her eyes. “You look good.”
She likes being a good child and has no difficulty being Miss Sunshine. But today, she has a mini dress on, a body-hugging burgundy dress that I am assuming she wore to feel like her new age. Eva has always been the glasses, jeans, and T-shirt kind of girl.
“I miss her,” she lets out finally.
“We all do,” I drop my hand when I notice I am stroking her ear.
“Will it ever be the same again?” She stares into my soul, and I wish I had the answers she seeks. But I only have the truth, so I shake my head, offering her what I have.
Her mother is not coming back. Her father is never going to be the same man, except if, by some fucking miracle, his heart finds a way to heal. She will never have the luxury of doing whatever she wants and having as many friends as she wants.
“I don’t want to celebrate my birthday,” she sits straighter, folding her legs in front of her. “I want to be by myself.”
I nod. “Three extra cakes came in for you.”
She grunts, “It’s not about the cake. I told my father that I miss my mother, and he assumed it was about the cake she used to bake me. I just need him to stop hurting too,” she sniffs.
“Give it time.” I am tired of talking, so I flex my mouth and think of a way to end this conversation. A way to make her happy would be to bring the conversation to a better end: “Do you have a birthday wish?”
She shakes her head. “I am good.”
“Nothing I can do to make today better for you?” I bunch, trying to bring my face to her level.
“If I tell you what I truly want, you won’t give it to me,” she shrugs. “So, no.”
What could she possibly want that I can’t give her? This is Eva, for goodness’ sake. What can Eva possibly want?
“Try me,” I hold her gaze, and she shakes her head, looking away. “Eva,” I reach for her chin and tilt her face back to face me, locking our eyes. “Try me.”
“Kiss me,” she chews her lower lip. “Please,” she swallows air.
“Are you drunk, Eva?” I let go of her chin and reach behind her to pull out an almost empty bottle of vodka.
She leans forward, and I am the one drawing backward like she is a venomous snake about to bite me. “Would that make my request viable?”
“Eva, I am not kissing you,” I say. I stand, and she stands with me a little too quickly, almost losing her balance. I sweep in to steady her, her body pressing awareness into mine.
I have seen her. I notice her. She is the daughter of my fucking boss and best friend. Her feelings are all over the place. So many fucking reasons to let her be and pretend tonight never happened. That she never said those words, tearing the veil we have both been hiding behind.
“But you want to. I know you do,” she tips. “I want you to.”
“I can’t,” I shake my head, but I am still holding her around the waist, telling myself I am doing it to help her stand without falling, but I know I can feel my cock straining.
“You wanted to know what would make me happy, that’s all I want,” she shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about…”
“If I kiss you, there is no going back,” my mouth says one thing, and my hands are unto another, dragging up her arms to cradle her face.
I didn’t want her confessing about her fantasies. They should remain a secret for both our sakes.
“I don’t think I will ever want to go back,” she stands taller.
I can’t say why I lose it, but I do. I slam my lips against hers and steal her first kiss. She tastes like vodka, but also warm and naive. She has no idea what to do with her tongue or how to place her lips, so I teach her.
She breathes, shoving her soft body into me, and one of my hands goes to her back to press her body harder against mine, and I’m afraid she can feel my cock straining for her through the fabric.
I slip my tongue in, and this time, she catches on fast. She follows my lead, kissing me back, her hands searching around and all over me for where and what to hold on to.
No. No. Fucking no.
I pull away. “Fuck,” I stagger back, refusing to meet her eyes. “Fuck,” I turn away, hiding my face from her.
“Fabio…”
“Get back inside, Eva,” I growl, and I feel her flinch back. I don’t waste any more time inside the studio; I take long strides out, knocking over the door.
I need a quick fuck.
I haven’t fucked in a while, thanks to the problem Boris keeps dishing at us.
If I had fucked, I wouldn’t have lost control like that.
Fuck.
I let the veil down. And while I will make myself forget this after tonight, I can at least whisper the truth to myself now.
I kissed her because I wanted to.
I have wanted to for some time now.
Shame on me.
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Fabio
I have taken her punches.
I can stand those. But a slap across my face? That one took me by surprise. I am still in utter shock.
I admit I deserve it and perhaps a little more, but I was am still in shock. Only Eva could dare that. Only she can make my cock rock hard from hitting me across the face.
“Stay away from me, Fabio,” she flips and wanders into the parlor of the main building, passively throwing her salutations with a careless wave of her hand at the men guarding the area.
“Are you good, Eva?” One of the men asks, and she nods, never even looking in his direction.
I go after her, needing to fix what I have broken even though I am short on ideas on how to do it.
I hold back as I see her look toward Salvatore’s quarter. She has been through a lot, and I keep making it fucking difficult for her. But I want better for her. I want her to go for the best and not settle because she was asked to.
She hops up the stairs two at a time, and I match her pace behind her, trying to keep up with her. I don’t know if she knows I’m coming after her, but she shows no sign of it.
She opens the door of her quarter, disappearing into her bedroom, but I quickly put my foot in to stop her from slamming the door in my face. I step in, and the colors of her bedroom smack me hard, making me almost squint as they hit me all at once and scream at the same fucking time.
“Get out of my room, or I will scream.” I am done listening to her, so I close the door, daring her to scream.
I skim the walls of her bedroom to see the pictures on display and my eyes catch sight of me on the wall. I remember that day. I had accompanied them on a family vacation. I never felt like I was part of what was happening. For the first time, I was lost, thinking about my life and pondering on the possibility of having a family of my own.
How time flies.
“You hit me,” I stride to the picture of me on the wall, halting in front of it, observing and appreciating the fact that she did this for me.
“You deserved it,” she grits.
“I did,” I nod and tilt to look at her. At the same time, she tosses her camera on the mattress. “I owe you a new one, too,” I imply with my chin at her camera, and she shrugs it off carelessly. “Eva…”
“I have had enough for one day.” She throws both hands in the air and then lowers them to her hips. “You know what? Whatever. I will find someone else, and I will free you and maybe one day, when it is too late, you may decide if you can be redeemed.,” she halts in front of me. “I have heard all you had to say; now leave my room,” she points at her door.
I want to fix this. I fucking want to, but I am too lost. I know the parts, but I don’t know where they fit, and I fear if I attempt any further, I will cause irreparable damage.
I accept her condition and am about to leave her bedroom.
“Yeah, do that. Leave,” she hollers and scuttles to me. Even though I need to leave, I halt and dare to face her in an attempt to fix this. “Leave,” she stutters.
Bullshit.
She doesn’t mean a word she is saying.
I am expecting a punch as she balls her fists and lifts her hands, aiming them at me, but they go weak, and she clutches my shirt, grabbing whatever fabric from it she can. “Leave,” she hiccups. “Go away.” She is saying one thing but doing an entirely different thing. She steps closer and presses her body against mine.
My cock twitches as I feel the softness of her breasts against my body and the warmth crawling out of her to prick my skin. I groan, hating that I have somehow complicated things by staying.
I should leave at this point.
She shakes me, but her strength is not enough to move me. She gives up on trying to and plasters her hand on my chest, taking the answers she seeks from this situation. If she wants to know if I feel anything for her, my heart is a loud talker right now.
And since she has had her fill of what my treacherous heart has to say, she stands on her toes and melts my restraints with the soft plastering of her forehead on the side of my mouth. I try to catch my breath, but it feels nearly impossible.
I cover her hand on my chest with mine, and since I cannot say the words out loud, I can support my heart to spill them endlessly. I press her hand firmer against my chest, wishing I could tear it open and offer her my heart as a consolation for her hurt.
“I will do it, I will carve it out for you, Eva.”
She cranes her head until her lips find my lips, and it is exactly the kind of push I need to make the proper excuse for deep diving into her. The proper excuse to taste, take, touch, and plunder.
I seize the kiss, swallowing her mouth and her breathy moans. I slink my tongue in, letting her suck it as I do with hers. I give myself to the kiss. I give myself to the urge to own her at this moment, however fleeting.
Her hands come to dig into my hair, and she clamps on the strands like anchors. I kiss, chew, suck, and with each routine, the shackles holding me back break their hold. It is my need to fill her up, to fuck her, to have her, that moves me to clear her off the floor and ease her on the bed.
“Eva,” I beg into her mouth, needing her to ask me to stop because she is the only one who can end this before it gets too far. “I am losing it here,” I confess, but instead of asking me to stop, I feel her pussy twitch under me, and her breathing goes sloppy.
I press my hard cock against her stomach, and the fucking arousal will kill me. I grit my teeth and pull away from her, forcing myself somehow.
I hate that I am this weak around her.
I hate that I want her so much it hurts.
I hate that I cannot get my shit together when it comes to her.
I wield my frustration on the mattress instead. I punch. I keep punching, needing the tightness in my balls to relieve me somehow. I keep punching, needing the swelling of my cock to deflate.
My line of sight catches something, and the wires in my brain fry into chaff as I zone my focus completely on her.
Eva.
Naked.
Fuck me.
I have tried not to go there with her. I have tried never to picture her naked in order to give her the respect she deserves but also because I know that when I cross that border, there will be no going back.
Like right now.
Seeing her curves, her plumpness, her innocence, her fucking everything that looks like it was handpicked by God and put together to make me fall, I can’t go back to not wanting to see, own and fuck.
“Christ,” I spill, gritting. “Oh, fuck it, Eva,” I spring up, sitting as my cock grows and my balls strain like they will burst.
She comes to me, and I let my legs fall open to accept her between them. I am salivating at the sight of her and she might be able to feel it as I pepper her skin with wet kisses on her tummy, licking her like honey.
I grab her ass and trace up to her breasts, then back down to between her legs, finding her wet and ready for me.
“You little devil. I can’t fight…”
Shame on me.
With just a nudge with the tip of her finger, I am dropping on the bed. But very swiftly, I take over, rolling her until she is under me. I kiss her, taking my shoes off in the process with my feet kicking against each other.
I straddle her wetness, plastering my cock against it. I could come from it. I could come from doing this. I am straddling her pussy while my mouth slides down to find her breast and pounce on it like a hungry hound. I suck and flicker.
I trace my hand to her pussy, not surprised to find her wet as I go under her underwear. I groan into her breast in my mouth, slipping my finger in. She is tight, fucking tight. I wasn’t expecting her to be this tight. I slip another finger inside of her, stretching her. Not satisfied because I know I am big, I add another, making it three fingers.
I start to fuck her with my fingers. My mouth finds hers, and I kiss her moan away.
“I want you,” she reaches for my pants, but I do her one good, and help with freeing my cock.
“I am clean, but I will…”
“I am on the pill,” she cuts me, and I am back on her, my foreskin circling her entrance. I aim for the big kill and push it a little in.
Fucking heavens.
This is fucking Eden.
“Too many things to say,” I close my eyes and shake my head because the sweetness of her pussy is in the fleshiness of it. “Too many things to feel,” I push in a little more, and she clenches her teeth. “Too many dreams coming true at this moment,” I grunt, and with a quick thrust, I dive in. “You feel fucking amazing,” I grind my teeth. “Too fucking amazing,” I make the first move of my hips.
I pick up, my entire body trembling with hers as I plunder her. She seems laid back, but very quickly, she comes up to it, circling my waist with her legs and pushing her back up to give me easy access to her—a slightly maddening position. I am going to take her from behind someday.
I groan, and her moan climbs over mine.
I cannot believe I am thinking of fucking her again and in all the fucking positions I like to fuck. She is different. This is different. And no matter her decision, I am deciding here and now that she is the last for me. I am not fucking any other woman ever again.
I meet her eyes, not saying the words but swearing them silently to her. And as if she hears my thoughts, a tear slips. I catch it quickly with my tongue and pounce on her mouth to kiss her.
I plunder her. I dive deeper. I drive deeper into her.
The pleasure swells in my stomach, and from her moans, I know it’s mutual. I want to come with her. I want to teach her body to listen to my command. I want to ruin her for others. I don’t want her to have others.
I cinch our gaze, burrowing into her deep blue eyes, and I plunge, picking up my rhythm but not too fast. I am close. Too fucking close. She is close. I keep up. I find the spot that has her chewing on her lower lip and hammer on it.
Her pussy fists around my cock, and I shame myself at how quickly and uncontrolled I come. I jerk, my muscles contracting and my legs going limp. Thank fuck she comes with me, shuddering and splintering under my jerky thrusts.
I am still in the zone, trying to wrap my mind around having had her. I have tasted her, and I cannot fucking ever not want to have her this way again.
I have complicated things for myself. For us.
“If I could choose, Fabio De Luca, I would still choose you to be my husband,” she mutters, her voice breaking, and the blood in my body dries up.
No, fucking no.
What have I done?
I slip out of her carefully. I can’t undo it. I have to think. I want her. I know I do. But I have to think. Should I ask her to marry me here? Should I confess my love for her right now? Should I let her know I no longer want to keep fighting this? Should I let her know that her body is where I want to call home?
I glide down her body, more than ready to pick up from where we left off. There is nothing to do. I have had her, and I must keep her.
My eyes slide down to between her legs, and I get whiplash at the sight of blood.
“Eva?” This better not be what I am fucking thinking.
She springs up and goes lifeless as she drops her eyes on the stain of blood on the sheets around her pussy. Around my cock.
“For fuck’s sake, Eva,” the realization guts me and I scramble off the bed.
Fuck!
I am her first.
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