Ruby Mayhem: A Russian Mafia Romance (Vyronov Bratva Book 1)

My thoughts are a jumbled mess of denial and horror.

I’m still fighting off disbelief as the realization that I’ve been traded like a pawn in some sick game to settle my father’s debts claws at me.

The walls of Kirill Vyronov’s room feel like they’re closing in as it all comes crashing in. It’s not just what happened that’s hanging over me – it’s the suspicion that’s been thrown on me. That I might be blamed for my father’s bullshit on top of it all. That I might be forced to pay for his crimes. It feels unfair.

What have I done to deserve this?

First, the auction, then my father being gunned down, and now this. Is there anything else the Universe could throw at me to make my life more of a shitshow?

Don’t tempt Fate, Tiana!

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whisper under my breath. My voice breaks as the heavy silence that hangs between us.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Ptichka.” The man who bought me still hangs over me like a bird of prey. A dark, brooding bird of prey. With ruffled hair and a face that only seems more viciously appealing now that it’s streaked with blood.

I’ve lost my mind.

It’s the only reasonable explanation.

Who wouldn’t in a situation like this?

“Answer me!” He roars. His deep, guttural voice almost has the walls of the room shaking. It snaps me back from my wandering thoughts in an instant. I shrink down, feeling even smaller under his fierce gaze. But I set my chin straight.

“How do I answer something that I know nothing about?” My voice is sharp, rising a little.

Kirill’s eyes are icy as they fix on me. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, little bird,” he leans in closer. “What do you know of his business with the Bratva?”

If I wasn’t shaking from fear and shock, I would probably laugh out loud – it’s too ludicrous. My own life has spiraled into something out of a dark, twisted fairy tale, and here stands the big bad wolf asking if I played in the woods knowingly.

“I know nothing about my father’s business,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“Then fucking prove it,” he snaps.

“Screw you,” I mutter. “I have nothing to tell you. Except that I hope you rot.”

His eyes narrow, his pupils darkening. Yet, my defiance doesn’t get to him. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Ptichka,” he warns, his voice is a low and threatening growl. But when he turns slightly, there’s a brief flicker of pain that flashes across his face as he adjusts his stance. It catches my attention.

He’s wounded.

I saw it when he took me from the other room. There’s blood on his shirt. I can see the stickiness seeping through the dark fabric, making it gleam wetly in the dim light.

“You’re injured,” I say, surprising myself, and probably him too.

“That’s none of your business,” he shoots back immediately. His eyes are filled with fire, but he doesn’t let himself be overtaken by his anger. He’s like a wounded tiger that is prepared to do anything to get his way. And I find that oddly appealing, which is all kinds of crazy. Especially that I’m all tied up and completely at his mercy. He’s all about death and violence. He could snap me in half if he wanted to, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Yet here I am, defying him every step of the way. It’s like our own little game. And that shouldn’t make my heart race and my nipples tighten. But it does. And I don’t understand why. Why am I reacting this way to this man? It’s all new to me.

Am I screwed up in the head?

Maybe I am one of those perverts my father was always protecting me from?

“You’re hurt. You need help.” I tell him again, allowing my eyes to move over the stain of blood on his shirt.

A dark eyebrow rises. “Are you trying to convince me that you care, Ptichka?”

Now I wish I’d said nothing about it. I hate that I noticed, I hate that I want to know more about the real man behind the monster who holds my fate in his blood-stained hands.

“Look,” I breathe out, trying to regain some control over my racing thoughts, “I know nothing about my father’s business. Or about any Pushkin gang-”

“Petrov,” he corrects me.

“Petrov, Pushkin, Rumpelstiltskin… I don’t know any of them. If I did, don’t you think I’d use it to get out of this mess? What more do I have to lose?”

Kirill straightens up, the unreadable mask slipping back into place. I suck in a sharp breath as his hand reappears holding a glittering blade. My throat works as he brings it up in front of my face.

No!

He’s going to kill me!

When he drops abruptly, knife in hand, I let out a short scream. Only to realize that he’s stooping to cut the bonds from my ankles.

“Fine. If you don’t know anything, there’s no sense in wasting any more of my time with you,” he says as he rises once more. Cautiously, I move my hands in front of me. I’m still shaking. “Stand,” he says. I twist my wrists as the blood rushes to my hands. “Stand,” Kirill repeats, his voice more a growl than a command. There’s a huskiness to it that makes me wonder if he’s reacting to our closeness as much as I am.

I push myself up unsteadily, my feet numb from being bound for so long. My body sways, and for a fraction of a second, I worry that I’ll collapse right into him – a prospect that sends a tiny thrill through me. I find my footing just in time to avoid the contact. But I can’t avoid the electricity that zings in the air between us, thick enough to slice through with a knife. And I’m sure he feels it too.

“Look at you,” I quip, trying to ignore the way my body hums with awareness. “All bloodied and brutish, like some sort of gladiator.” It’s meant as a dig, but even to my own ears, it sounds like a compliment. He doesn’t respond immediately, just studies me with those piercing dark eyes that seem to see too much. There’s no doubt that he is a man who understands death all too well, and yet, here I am, my heart pounding not with fear but something else entirely – something dark and wanting.

“So, what now? Are you letting me go?” I ask him, still a little confused.

A dark eyebrow lifts. “Letting you go?” He chuckles, a sound that rolls over my flesh like a caress, and dammit, my pussy tingles.

We’re just inches apart, and it’s making it hard for me to breathe for some reason. “I mean… you believe me now?”

What made him change his mind?

“Shouldn’t I?” His head tilts slightly as he surveys me coldly.

“I… Yes, of course you should,” I say in a rush. “Because you know-” My words are cut off as a strong hand snaps out and grasps my throat beneath my chin. Before I know what’s happening, he’s pushed me across the room until my back hits the wall. I give a cry of surprise, my mouth opening and closing. His grip is firm, his fingers warm against my skin; hard enough to hold me in place, but not tightly enough to hurt me. My skin buzzes beneath his touch.

He leans forward, getting right in my face. “If I find out you’re lying to me or even just withholding information, I’ll do things to you that will make you regret that you were born. Do you understand?”

My breath catches, and somehow it has nothing to do with his hand on my throat. I stare up into his eyes like a deer in the headlights. My thighs have clenched together to hide the wetness in between, and my nipples poke against my shirt.

Tiana you pervert!

Are you one of those painsluts?

What the actual fuck?

“Do you understand me?” His voice is unnaturally low, a velvet threat.

I nod as much as his fist beneath my chin will allow me. “I… yes,” I manage to husk out.

“Good,” he murmurs. His breath fans my face, minty and intoxicating. There’s a long silence after he speaks; a silence laden with something I can’t identify, but it’s making my heart race.

Do something, dammit!

“Are… are you done with me?” I inject as much brazenness into my voice as I can manage, considering my throat is constricted.

“What did you say?”

My heart pounds harder. I’m pushing the envelope, but I don’t know what else to do. My body is responding to this situation in a way that I can’t understand. I don’t know if I want to slap him or… kiss him.

Why am I finding this hot?

What is wrong with me?

I can’t believe my mind is even going there. Here I am in the most gigantic mess of my life. I just lost my father and I’m tied to a Bratva boss who is pinning me against a wall with his hand around my throat. I know he could snap me in half if he wanted to, which should scare me even more. But it has me turned on, instead. When I drop my eyes to his lips, he licks them, and I swear that my pussy goes so wet, I’m worried the stain is going to be visible from a mile away.

Something flickers in his eyes, like he understood something. The corner of his lips twitch and it’s as if a tiny smile is playing at his mouth. His hand loosens its grip beneath my chin, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers trail down my jawline, sending shivers through me. My lips tingle in anticipation as he leans in closer. By the time he lowers his mouth toward mine, I’m literally not breathing.

It’s like he sees right into the core of my soul.

He knows how I’m reacting to him.

His lips are even closer to mine now, and I’m a mush. Especially the area between my legs. And though I still don’t understand what’s happening with my body, I no longer care. This is it; my first real kiss. And it’s with the last person I ever expected… or wanted. But at this moment, none of it seems important anymore. Maybe it’s all the tension that has built up in me today. Maybe it’s a giant “fuck you” to my father for shielding me all my life, just to keep my price up for that auction. Maybe I really am screwed up in the head. I no longer care about any of it. All that matters is the electricity I’m feeling and the desire pooling in my belly.

Holy shit.

I want this man.

For a while, there is nothing, aside from the weight of the air between us and the sound of our hoarse breaths. Then his mouth brushes against mine. Softly at first, testing the waters before his tongue flicks out and licks along the seam of my lips. And, God help me… I want him to take me here and now. My body suddenly throbs in a way I never thought I’m capable of. Especially the area between my thighs.

A soft moan escapes my lips and it’s like I’m no longer in control of my own body. Not that I’m resisting anymore. I just allow this experience to happen as it should. And he surely knows what he’s doing. It shows in every stroke of his tongue against mine as he explores every nook and cranny of my mouth.

By the time he raises his head, I’m panting like I just ran a marathon. And him? He’s smirking. And somehow, he’s backed me away from the wall, and we’ve bumped up against the edge of his bed. He just continues to smirk.

He’s such a dick!

Too bad I want him too much to care about that. But my thoughts are confirmed when he speaks.

“Strip,” he says to me.

“What?” I go stiff, certain I misheard him.

“You heard me.”

Strip?

He can’t be serious.

“I…” I look around, still in a daze after that mind-numbing kiss. “What?” I say again.

“Strip, little bird,” He reaches for the front of my shirt and begins to tug it out of the top of my pants.

Oh, hell no!

I suddenly want to oppose him again. Sure, he might have me turned on like never before, and he may have turned my pussy into a boiling pool of desire, but I’m not going to let him think that he can just treat me like his personal sextoy.

“Fuck you!” My hand flies up sharply. I shove against his chest, trying to push him away. “You can go screw yourself.”

He chuckles; another of those dark rumbles that zings straight to my clit. “There’s my girl.”

“I’m not your anything, you bastard!” My chest heaves as I glare at him. When I shove him again, he looks amused.

“Is that how you talk to your future husband, Ptichka?” His voice drips with sarcasm.

I narrow my eyes at him, fighting back a thousand insults that I know will get me into trouble. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss out between gritted teeth instead. “I’m not interested in any of your “husband” bullshit. And I don’t want you anywhere near me.” It’s a lie. A big one. I want him near me more than I ever wanted anyone. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, and it’s making me burn in a way that’s entirely new and exciting to me.

He steps closer, right into my space, until we’re practically touching again. If I could feel his heat before, it’s almost soaking into my cells now.

“Is that really what you want?” he growls into my ear. It’s low and dangerous. My chest heaves against his as I try to catch my breath.

“Yes! No! I mean… I” I choke out, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking.

“Let’s find out, then.” Without warning, his hand shoots out and grips my chin roughly, angling my face upward to meet his. Our lips are merely an inch apart when our gazes lock – his eyes filled with hunger and dominance. He’s going to kiss me again, and I’m powerless to stop him. And somehow, that makes this all the more appealing.

I don’t want to stop him.

Slowly, he leans in until our lips are touching – his warm breath mingling with mine – before he slams his mouth down on mine in a rough kiss that leaves no room for doubt about who’s in charge.

His tongue plunders my mouth, claims it… nothing like the seductive exploration that left my knees weak before. But they’re weak again anyway, and I moan as he slides his fingers along my jawline to tilt my head back even more. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m kissing him back. Tentative, clumsy, but passionate. He doesn’t seem to mind any of it; if anything, it spurs him on, his kiss deepening, becoming more forceful. And if anything, it turns me on even more. When he nips my lower lip, I whimper and fist his shirt, tugging him closer.

I can’t get enough of this feeling. I’m hot and cold all at once. I want to hitch my knee over his hip and rub my mound against him. The ache there is building into a dull throb that’s matched by a tingling in my nipples.

Have I just discovered a new hobby?

Is this what sex feels like?

Even as I think that, I know it’s not true. It’s him who makes me feel this way. He’s no ordinary man, that much is clear.

“Blyad,” he groans, breaking away from my lips, only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jawline to my neck. He sucks on my pulse point just below my earlobe before biting it lightly. I jolt in response.

“Ohhh… Oh, God…” I moan as goosebumps break out on my skin. When he grinds against me, I can feel the rock-hard ridge of his cock pressing against me.

I choke out a gasp. I don’t know much about cocks, but I’m pretty sure the size is more than impressive. It’s not like I haven’t seen pictures of naked men on before. My father may have shielded me from most of the world, but he couldn’t shield me from all of it. As for Kirill’s size, I’m sure it’s bigger and harder than the ones I’ve seen on the internet.

I arch toward him, pushing myself against that thick bulge. He makes a low rumbling sound deep in his throat before taking my mouth again. It’s slower this time, as if he’s learning the depths of me, his hands moving down my back to pull me closer. It’s not close enough. I thrust my hips forward, clinging to him.

How the hell did I get here?

Just minutes ago, I was hurling insults at the man, and now here I am, melting into a puddle at his feet. “I’ve never forced myself on a woman in my life,” he had said. Now I understand why. If he used these skills on them, I bet there’d have been women lining up outside his bedroom door. Which makes me wonder again why he brought me here in the first place. But I don’t wonder for too long. His hands continue to explore me, mapping the curves of my ass, before trailing over my hips to the front of my pants. He unbuttons them with a practiced flick of his wrist before looking up at me.

“Still don’t want me to touch you, Ptichka?” He traces a fingertip along the small strip of bare skin that’s exposed at the top of my pants.

I answer with a small shake of my head.

His lips curl up into a dark, wicked smile that should annoy me. But it doesn’t anymore. Reaching for the hem of my shirt, he slides it up my chest and then pulls it over my head and tosses it aside. I’m wearing a plain white cotton bra beneath it, and now I wish it was black satin. But he doesn’t seem to care. From the way his eyes trail over me, I could be wearing La Perla… and it makes me feel beautiful.

Dipping down, he lowers himself until he slowly takes a hard nipple into his mouth. He nips at it through the fabric, and I’m gone once again. I arch my back and slide my fingers into his thick, silver hair. I grip more firmly when he slides down my torso, trailing the tip of his tongue over my skin until he reaches my navel. Sinking back onto the bed behind us, he sits in front of me, his hands on my hips, my pants open before him. When he tugs them down my thighs, I don’t resist the slightest. Instead, I just step out of them as they drop to the floor and pool around my feet.

“Open,” he commands, pushing my knees apart. My legs part slightly, and I give a little moan as his hands slide up the inside of my thighs. His touch has me shivering, and a thousand images race through my mind from the dream I’d had of him recently. My cheeks burn as I imagine that I’m about to find out what it feels like in reality. When his fingers graze over my cotton-covered pussy, I gasp sharply. It’s only the lightest of touches, but it shoots straight to the depths of me.

“Oohhh…” I breathe out, not sure what I should be doing next. But my body seems to know because I’m rubbing against his hand, desperate for more friction. When he reaches up to my bra and pulls the strap down, I take a quick breath.

My breasts are free. They spill over the top of my bra, my nipples tightly puckered.

“Ty prekrasna,” He murmurs, pinching one nipple then the other, first lightly then more forcefully. The moan that tears from me is throaty and deepens as he finds my clit and rubs it through the cotton.

“Ohhh… shit! Oh my God!” I choke out, my hand clutching at his shoulder. He’s at eye level with my pussy, and my cheeks flame as I watch him examine me with heated interest. When he leans forward and sucks down on my clit through the fabric, I almost go through the roof. My fingers dig into the heavy muscles of his shoulder as I try to stop myself from falling to the floor.

“Oh… my God! What… how are you doing that?” I sway slightly, my breath coming fast.

“You’re going to come for me, Ptichka.” He keeps up the friction of his fingers along my slit. “I need your cunt nice and wet when I fuck you.”

God, he’s such an arrogant ass. But right now, I don’t have a snappy response in my vocabulary, and any thoughts I may have had go right out the window when he suckles on my clit once again.

“Oh! Oh, fuck!” I sway, and almost fall. Luckily my fingers have such a grip on the muscles on his shoulders that my nails are biting into his skin through his shirt. It doesn’t slow him. His fingers stroke a steady rhythm along the seam of my pussy while he keeps working my clit through the fabric. It goes on until I’m almost completely mindless with the pleasure. And when he suddenly nips down on the sensitive bundle of nerves, it’s the end of me.

“Ohhhhh… fuuuck!” I cry out, my hips thrusting forward hard as I feel a flood of juices soaking into my panties. “Fuck… fuck… yesss! Oh, my God!”

My orgasm washes over me like a tsunami of boiling lava, and for a moment, my vision becomes blurry. My head is spinning, and I think the only reason I don’t fall crashing to the floor is that his hands are holding me in place. It’s unreal. When the feeling starts to subside, I can’t help staring at him in surprise. My cheeks are still flaming hot, the warmth seeping down my throat to my chest.

“How… what… how did you do that?” My voice is hoarse.

“Practice,” he says, rising abruptly. I stare at him in a daze as he unbuttons his shirt and slips it over his shoulders.

Holy shit!

The man looks like he’s chiseled from marble, his eyes dark with a world of knowledge that I can only begin to imagine. Yet I want to know it; I want to know it all.

Raising a hand tentatively, I splay it over his skin. It’s brazen, but after what he just did to me, it seems appropriate. “Wow,” I husk out. “You’re so… hard.” Now I’m blushing again because I probably sound like a naive schoolgirl. Then again, it wasn’t long ago that I was one.

And this man… this man is anything but naive. He’s the exact opposite of naive. I suddenly realize how ridiculously outclassed I am. When he toes off his shoes and unzips his pants, I can’t help gaping at him in awe. Every inch that’s revealed seems more honed and perfect than the last. Broad shoulders, a wide chest with just the lightest dusting of hair over a tracery of ink. Taut, rippling abs that look like I could bounce something off them. And what’s hidden by his undershorts seems to be the hardest part of all. I can’t tear my eyes from the huge bulge beneath the fabric.

Holy freaking shit!

That thing is going to rip me in half!

“Kirill…” My voice has dropped to a whisper. I’ve never felt so out of my depth in my life.

“Touch me,” he tells me. Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. When I hesitate, he reaches for my hand and presses it over his throbbing erection.

Holy shit!

It’s hot. And even harder than I expected. I almost pull away in alarm, but he keeps my hand there. At first, I do nothing, taking a moment to collect myself. He doesn’t seem impatient – he just stands there watching me like some sort of tattooed god. And it works. Soon, my shyness is overtaken by desire and I let my fingertips trace the line of his shaft. It twitches beneath my fingers as if it has a life of its own.

“Keep going.” He rasps the words, his stomach muscles tightening – as if that were even possible. Beneath the fabric, I can feel the light ridges of veins and the bulbous head. But it’s not enough. I want to feel the texture, all the shapes and lines of it. When he lets my hand go, I slide it beneath the waistband of his briefs and touch the tip of his cock. He sucks a sharp breath through his nostrils.

“It’s… so smooth.” I look up at him. He doesn’t answer. Just stares down at me as I push his briefs down and take him in both hands. “And hot.”

His throat works as I begin to glide my hand awkwardly along his shaft. I’m probably doing a terrible job, but I’m sure I make up for it with enthusiasm. And more than a little perverse delight. I spent my whole life locked up like a nun, and now here I am, about to be taught the ropes by the most cruelly beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. And he sure as hell knows what he’s doing. This may not have been my first choice in how I would have lost my virginity, but it’s suddenly looking pretty damn appealing.

When he raises a hand to cup my breast, my grip tightens. It tightens further when he pinches my nipple and then slides his other hand between my legs. My panties are sticky, hot, and wet against me, and he pulls the fabric away from me, delving into the silky fur that covers my pussy.

“Off,” he tells me, tugging at the cotton. I don’t care that he’s arrogant anymore. I respond eagerly this time, pulling the elastic over my hips and then wriggling out of them before reaching for his cock again. He keeps his eyes on me, tracing the line of my slit that is now naked without the covering of my panties.

“Ohhh… wow,” I choke. The sensation of his bare fingers against me is like an electric shock. I’m squirming against his hand within seconds. I work hard not to stop pumping his cock, though, staring at it transfixed as sticky silvery droplets ooze from the head. I swirl the moisture into his skin with my fingertip, thrilled at the way he shudders when I do that.

If possible, I’m even more thrilled by what he’s doing down below. I feel him spread my lips wide, thumbing circles over my swollen clit as he slides a finger into my wet channel. My back arches as I ache for more, wishing he’d go deeper, harder. And when he starts to pump his finger into me in shallow thrusts, I mewl.

“Oooh! God… that’s… so good!” My palms are still gliding along the length of his cock but it’s almost impossible to concentrate now. When he picks up the pace, his thumb still swirling, I start to buck against his hand.

“Does that make you hot, little bird?” He watches my face as I gnaw on my bottom lip.

“Yes… Oh fuck, yes! Oh, shit!” I grab his arm and start riding his fingers harder. It only takes a few moments for a sizzling wave of pleasure to rush through me once again.

Fuck! Oh, fuuuuck!” I scream as my body starts uncontrollably shaking. His rough hands hold me firmly in place until I collapse against his chest, my face flushed and damp. Hot, juices flood my pussy as I breathe against his hard muscles. It takes long seconds until the shaking of my thighs begin to subside. As my body starts to cool and my breathing slows down, he slowly pulls his fingers from me.

It feels like forever before I’m able to focus on his face again. And when I do, he’s licking his fingers. My cheeks flame, yet somehow it’s so damn sexy that I’m left speechless.

“You’re fucking delicious, Ptichka. And you come so easily.” He grins at me. I want to hate him all over again, but I can’t bring myself to it. “I’m going to enjoy every fucking second that I’m inside you.”

My heart stutters. “Kirill…” I look around nervously. “I’m not sure-”

“You are,” he interrupts me, spinning me to face the bed and then putting a hand between my shoulder blades to push me forward. I land on my hands and knees with a yelp, looking back in alarm as he steps between my legs and kneels on the mattress between my feet.

Holy shit!

This is it!

“Kirill, wait! I don’t know-” I’m not ready. At least, I think I’m not. But my body is screaming yes in a thousand different ways.

“Quiet!” He hauls my hips up, pushing my thighs wide with his knee and staring down at my ass as if he’d happily devour me. His desire is raw and pure, and the thought that I could do that to him makes my core tighten. “Blyad,” he mutters, palming his cock and sliding the tip against my slit. I can feel my folds parting to make way for him as I ache to feel him deep. My entire body is suddenly screaming to be filled by him.

This is happening Teetee!

“Fuck me!” I blurt, though it comes to me as a shock. I didn’t plan on saying it, but somehow I just did. And it seems to be the only encouragement he needs. Without warning, he grasps my hip, lodges the head of his cock into the mouth of my pussy, and thrusts forward.

Holy fucking shit!

I’m buried to the hilt. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure my eyelids just did a one-eighty.

“Kirill!” I shriek when I finally have a voice. My hands are grasping at the bedsheets as he plunges in to the hilt once more. “Yes!” I choke as his hips grind up against the cheeks of my ass. “Oooh-ooooooh… You bastard!” I half-scream at him, reaching back to rake my nails over his thigh. There’s a sting deep inside that makes my eyes water.

“You like it, Ptichka?” He tells me with a smirk. He waits a moment, and I can swear I feel him swelling even more. Or maybe it’s just that I’m so sensitive there now.

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck… fuuuuuck…” I pant the words out, trying to catch my breath and force myself to relax a little. It feels almost impossible when there’s so much of him inside me. When he starts to move again, sliding slowly in and then back out, the searing heat that was there begins to turn into warmth that floods my belly and my limbs.

“Bozhe moy,” he groans from above me. I’m still clutching the bedsheets with one hand while the other has a firm grip on his thigh. Releasing my hip, he reaches forward and grasps a handful of my hair, drawing me back as he starts pumping faster.

“Oooohhh…” I start to moan again. I’ve never felt so wanton, I never thought I could, and I can’t help myself. I can feel my juices dripping down my thighs, making wet sounds each time his hips slam against me. It doesn’t take long before I’m groaning in earnest, bucking back to meet him as he pounds into me. Each thrust is punctuated by a sharp cry as I arch back to meet him. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he slides his hand to my mound, thrumming my clit.

I go off like a rocket.

“Oh… Fuuuuck!” I scream as lights burst into the darkness behind my eyelids. My lips tingle as I gasp for air. Every inch of me tingles, from the place where he’s buried deep inside me to the tips of my fingers. When he grunts and then stiffens against me, I can feel heat flood me. His teeth sink into the curve of my neck. It should hurt, but all I can feel is pleasure. So much freaking pleasure.

How did I never know about this before?

Because I was locked away like a virgin in a tower, that’s why.

Well, I’m out of the tower now.

It feels like we stay locked together forever. When my body finally begins to cool, he slides out of me. The first thing I do is collapse forward onto my hands, completely spent. He lowers himself behind me, pulling me into the curve of his body, his breath rasping. I go completely limp, unable to find the strength to move. It’s all I can do to heave a sigh as the last of the aftershocks leave me.

“Wow.” I breathe out the word.

He chuckles into my hair. “Not so bad, huh?”

“Wow,” I say again, reaching for his hand and pulling it up against my chest. “Yeah, not so bad.” I’ve never felt so close to anyone, which should be strange, but it’s not.

Until he slides a hand around over my belly and murmurs into my ear, “You will be my wife. You will learn to follow my rules; do you understand?”

What the actual fuck?

I say nothing, but stiffen immediately. It doesn’t seem to deter him though, because he goes on. “You will not think of escape, because it would be futile. You will do the duties of a Bratva wife. And you will never go into the East Wing of our home. Ever. Do you understand?”

Our home.

He says it so casually. Like it’s the most natural thing ever.

Why can’t I go to the East Wing, though?

“Why not?” Echo my thoughts. It seems like such a random instruction. Is he hiding something?

“Because I said so. Do as I tell you and things will be good in your world. Do the opposite, and bear the consequences. Do you understand me, Tiana?” He’s firmer with it this time. By the time he stops talking, my blood is boiling. We just had the perfect moment and the bastard totally ruined it!

“I hate you!” I feel mutinous, but my body is still basking in afterglow, so there’s less vehemence in the words than I’d hoped for.

He just laughs. He simply laughs, and cups my breast, making me squirm against him. “If this is the way you hate, I will let you hate me again before the night is over.”

“God, you’re a dick,” I mutter, letting his hand go. He doesn’t seem to care. And why would he? I can call him all the names I want. I can tell him I hate him, but I’m not so convinced anymore that I do.

Because one thing is certain.

Tonight Kirill Vyronov claimed my body.

And probably my soul.