Page 79 of Volatile Waters

That fucking sexy smirk reappeared. “You’re lying.” His hands went to my hips. “Who have you kissed?”

The touch was simple but sent my body into a typhoon of wants and needs; nothing I had ever experienced compared. Barely able to inhale without gasping through desire, I informed my slave, “I have work to do.” And, I left him alone in the cell he was trapped in.

In the hallway, I leaned my back against Wolf’s door to catch my breath. From the other side, he sadly whispered, “Please, don’t go.”

He was burrowing too deep in places I had denied all my life. I needed free of this dangerous grasp he had on me. The line between us was so blurred; I wasn’t even sure what side I belonged on anymore.

Instead of replying, or going back inside Wolf’s cell, I went to the monitor room. One of our ‘conversationalists’, A.K.A. someone prowling the internet for slave prospects, spun in her rolling chair to face me when I entered. “How’s it going, Yury?”

She spoke English and was great with talking to young women. They trusted females so much faster than males. She could even fake cry in a second flat. Young girls would believe her lies, that she cared, and she could help them run away and work for her. She would promise a grand life that was far more appealing than the dull or abusive one the child was presently in. She was also now our Prepper. When there was to be a delivery, she would prepare the slave by doing any essentials needed—showering them, doing their hair and makeup, and waxing their bodies.

Lying, I replied, “I am well. Thank you.”

Another conversationalist turned in his rolling chair. “Hey, Yury. You told me to let you know if a Whitney Summers was catching a flight anywhere.”

He had my full attention. “And?”

He sipped from his coffee mug. “She bought a ticket.”

Frustrated with Wolf, and this employee not offering more information, I barked, “To where, you imbecile?”

His eyes widened as he leaned back in his chair for some distance between us. Then he quickly said, “To Saint Petersburg, Russia. She will be here in three days.”

Reether was leaving for Harvard to be a lawyer like his father. With Fire’s best friend moving on, it made perfect sense she was on the run again. And why was she headed to Russia? I knew that answer, too; Mr. Jones and the fucking PI.

Grabbing my chest, I stumbled back two steps. Whitney Summers—Seafoam’s spawn—was coming for revenge. Yes, my Fire. Come and try to burn me with your angry flames.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Wolf jumped to his feet when I entered his room, his hair falling over his shoulders. Again, I tried to overlook how gorgeous he was. He was doing some ignoring of his own. He paid no attention to the tray of food in my hands. He only said, “I’m sorry I made you mad.”

“It matters not.” I placed the tray on his bed.

“It does to me. Yury, please let me explain—”

“Explain what? That you played me for a fool? Got me to admit my attraction to you?” I marched to him. “I fuck men as a job. Never had I actually wanted one. But, when I finally get my chance with you, I’m going to… I’m going to—”

“You’re going to do what, actually enjoy yourself because it won’t be forced?” He shook his head. “It won’t be. Not with me.”

I knew it wouldn’t be forced with Wolf, and I knew I was going to love every moment of being inside him, but I also knew I would have to let him go to the highest bidder. That was a pain I wasn’t willing to endure. “Falling for a slave is the worst thing I can do.”

His jaw locked tight. “I’m not just a slave to you, and you know it.”

Deadpan, I stared at him. “Maybe a couple of days of solitude will help you understand your place.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Not wanting anyone with me, I snuck out the front door and was flying down the driveway in my car. The hours I waited for that plane to arrive were pure agony. It was the same as being lost at sea and knocking at death’s door. Even though I was surrounded by water—sex slaves and Wolf—I felt I was without the water needed to truly quench my thirst and keep me alive. Whitney had become my unreasonable obsession, one I felt I could no longer live without.

In a ballcap, something I never wore, I disguised myself and blended as best as I could with the crowds in the Pulkovo International Airport. I even wore jeans, something I saw as degrading, but I wasn’t going to allow another trafficker to abduct my Fire before I had the chance to myself. Yes, any travel station has us. We lurk, we spot their weaknesses, then we pounce, physically or mentally. We snatch you up by force or convince you to come with us by a mastered mind game.

Sitting, I groaned when flanked on the bench. Selfishly, I wanted this moment to myself.

Kirill chuckled as he sat next to me. “And you tease me for Valerie, Little Yury?”

Groan.

Adrian sat back, laying his arm out across my back. “You do know you live in a home full of cameras, yes?”