Page 13
When I let go, he does.
I crash to the ground, landing hard enough to send pain lancing through both my knees. I drag breath after breath into my lungs in ragged, desperate pulls, my throat burning with every inhale.
The black spots slowly recede, and the basement comes back into focus. My vision fills with the sight of my captor’s polished leather shoes.
Slowly, my eyes travel up his body. Long legs, muscular thighs, a hard midsection. My body is racked with shivers even though I’m not cold.
He’s turning his hand back and forth, examining the bleeding bite and cursing in Russian.
“You should have just killed me,” I say in a ragged whisper.
“That’s not an option.”
Under his arm, his gun glints enticingly in its holster. If I’m quick, I could snatch it away from him. To shoot myself or him, I’m not sure. Either works.
The stranger sees where I’m looking, and his eyes narrow. “Viktoriya. That would be very fucking stupid.”
He doesn’t understand. I’m not stupid. I’m terrified.
In a voice that’s stronger than I feel, I rasp, “Unlock these cuffs. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He laughs and shakes his head slowly, gazing around the basement as though searching for the last fuck he has to give. “That’s it. I’m done.”
My heart leaps. Have I won? Have I made him so sick of me that he’s going to leave me here?
But my hopes are dashed when he reaches down, wraps his uncuffed arm around my waist, and hauls me over his shoulder.
The world suddenly inverts. All the blood rushes to my head.
“What—” I cry.
The stranger climbs the stairs, carrying me like I weigh nothing. I squirm on his muscular shoulder and kick my legs, but I may as well be fighting a brick wall.
I beat against his back, and pain explodes in my injured wrist. Tears fill my eyes and run across my temples into my hair.
“Stop. Let me go.”
“We could have done this the easy way,” he says as he climbs. “Preserving your dignity. Not humiliating you more than I had to.”
My oversized sweatshirt rides up past my ribs, exposing my bruised skin to the cold air of the house. My jeans snag against the doorframe as he carries me into the hallway.
We pass the open door of a room where a dead man lies sprawled across the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Up here, the smell of gunpowder and copper is suffocating.
“Put me down!” I sob, squirming futilely against his iron hold. Upside down, every shudder of my body just makes my clothes twist tighter around my waist, leaving me feeling exposed, filthy, and desperate.
His stride doesn’t slow. He steps over a corpse at the back door without missing a beat.
“You’ve made your choice, printsessa. You’ve made it loud and fucking clear.”
He slaps my ass hard, the loud crack of his palm against denim stinging my skin. I yelp in shock and humiliation, my face burning red as the cool night air hits us.
“Now we’re doing this my way.”
3
Zevran
The highway unwinds ahead of us, empty and dark, the headlights of my matte-black Mercedes-AMG cutting a path through the nothing on either side. Flat land, distant tree lines, and the occasional road sign catching the light and vanishing. There are no other vehicles at this hour. Just the road, the engine’s low growl, and the angry silence between me and my sullen passenger.
