“Trafficking, forcing women to fuck you, or the fact that they are too afraid of your wrath to say no isn’t willing pussy.” I took a step closer, thoughts of Leonid forcing Galina to do anything rushing through my head in disgusting, vile clarity.

  Leonid didn’t speak, just kept that stupid fucking grin on his face. He held his arms out, his three-piece suit stretching wide over his chest. “Do you think you can take me down?” He slowly pushed himself up to his full height. His gaze flickered down to the knife in my grasp. “Hand to hand, eh?”

  I kept completely still and at ease. I was ready for this. I pushed Galina out of my mind, the very thought of her having no place for what was about to happen. Without taking his gaze off me, Leonid started to unbutton his jacket before removing it and hanging it over the back of his chair. He moved around the table and took several steps toward me, stopping when he was an arm's length away.

  For long moments we didn’t speak, just held each other’s gazes, the aggression and testosterone, the suffocating thickness filling the air. And then he struck like a cobra, his hand reaching for my neck. I had no doubt he planned to crush my windpipe, tear my trachea right from my throat.

  I ducked and dodged right before he could wrap his thick fingers around my neck. I thrust my arm his way, trying to lodge the blade into one of his kidneys, but he moved out of the way quickly, the knife grazing his shirt. I heard him hiss and knew I’d at least nicked the motherfucker.

  We both stumbled back before I charged forward, my body crashing into his. I used momentum to push him backward and against the table. Plates and cups fell to the ground, glasses breaking, my boots crunching on the debris. We grappled for supremacy, with me trying to stab him, but the fucker was stronger than he looked, his arms corded with muscle, so he was able to block any hits.

  “I’m going to have fun fucking the innocence out of Galina.”

  I felt this beast awaken further inside me when I heard Leonid say her full name. I shouldn't have been enraged that he’d dug up information on her, should have known the bastard would have wanted to cover all angles where she was concerned. His obsession wouldn’t have let it be any other way.

  I rammed my elbow into the side of his face hard enough his head cocked back and blood sprayed out. I used that moment to stab him in the side, his grunt of pain driving my bloodlust higher. Just as I was about to jerk the knife upward all the way to the motherfucker’s heart, he slammed his fist into my gut with so much force the air left me and gave him the opportunity to push me back a step.

  “You could have been my best soldier, could have been my right hand,” he roared as he charged forward, but I tensed, waiting to absorb the hit, my fingers twitching on the handle that was covered with his blood. “What a fucking waste.” His face twisted in rage, and I slowly grinned, letting him see the pleasure and darkness that consumed me.

  This was why he wanted me as his weapon for the Bratva… because he knew I’d kill anything that stood in my way, and now, that was him.

  Right before he rammed his shoulder into me, I turned and lifted my knee, connecting with his side and spinning around to wrap my arm around his throat. I shoved him forward so hard that when he crashed into the wall, a picture shook and then fell to the ground.

  “You’ll never hurt another woman again,” I seethed, my mouth right by his ear. He jerked his head back, his skull connecting with my cheek. Fire raced along the side of my face, but I paid it no mind. The pain felt fucking good.

  He bucked backward and was able to spin around, but I delivered a knee kick, causing him to howl in pain before he fell to the ground. I was on him in the next second, one hand wrapped around his throat, the other still holding my knife. I grinned wider as I delivered an elbow to his head. I watched the haze cover his eyes from the pain and disorientation, and I took that moment to lean in so our faces were close enough I could have given him a kiss of death before I ended this.

  “Galina is mine, and I’ll bring down anyone and anything who tries to take her from me.” I bared my teeth in what I knew was a frightening display of the demon in me. “That even means you, you sick fucking bastard. I’m going to get off on slicing your throat open ear to ear.” He struggled, but the hit to the head still settled, the glossy look in his eyes present. Blood trickled out of one of his ears, but the bastard had the balls to still grin, red covering his teeth.

  “I would have fucked her until she was a broken⁠—”

  I brought my knife to the soft spot right below his ear and dragged it slow and deep all the way around until I reached his other ear, his skin opening up like a ribbon being pulled away from a gift. Blood sprayed across my chest and covered my hands, droplets splashing on my neck.

  I straddled his waist and stared down at him, right into his eyes, watching as life faded from him as he struggled. His hands were at his throat like he could seal the wound up, as if it’d staunch the blood flow and save him. I kept my grin in place, because even though Leonid knew he was dying, even if he tried to use the last of his strength to push me off, everything he’d worked for was now nothing.

  “Your legacy ends here and now, Leonid. Your sons will move in the opposite direction of what you wanted.” I leaned in close so his blood was the only thing I smelled, that metallic scent that filled my nose and had adrenaline rushing through me. “Did you know they’re forming an alliance with the Cosa Nostra?” Leonid’s eyes widened, and he feebly struggled against the news. “Yeah, it seems like Nikolai is marrying a little Italian to bring the two families together.” I laughed low at the look on Leonid’s ashen face. “I bet that just skins you alive, doesn't it?”

  His eyes narrowed in one last rush of aggression, and he grated out in a barely audible hiss, “Fuck. You.”

  I laughed darkly and cupped the side of his face before saying, “No. Looks like you're the one being fucked.”

  He started gasping, his mouth opening and closing, the blood flow from his neck slowing. And then he looked at something over my shoulder just as anything and everything that used to be Leonid Petrov faded away.

  I stayed where I was as I stared down at him, this heaviness in my chest lifting marginally knowing Galina was safe from this fucker. I stood and walked a few steps back, and while keeping my eyes on the dead bastard, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed the number that would handle the rest of this.

  As soon as I heard the deep voice on the other end, I said, “I need to book a travel ticket for one. Yes, I need assistance with extra baggage.” I stared at Leonid’s now lifeless form as I put the cleanup in motion.

  Once it was all set and my phone was back in my coat pocket, I reached over and grabbed a white linen napkin, rubbing it over my hands while I stared down at the fabric as it changed to red and pink. The blood of my enemy smeared across that strip of cloth, the stickiness of it covering my fingers and palms.

  I let the napkin drop as I left the room, shutting the door behind me. If the women were smart, they were long gone by now. I walked down the hall and saw Akim standing in the kitchen entrance. His gaze took in the blood covering my clothing and hands. I gave him a nod, and he gave me one in return.

  I left the restaurant and headed back to Galina. Moy svet.

  My light.

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  Galina

  I’d seen the blood on Arlo’s hands and clothes, smelled it filling the car interior as he said nothing and drove us back to his apartment. I didn’t need to ask what had happened… what he’d done. I knew.

  He’d killed Leonid. He’d made it safe for me.

  Arlo hadn’t said one word the entire drive back, and not a single syllable once we were inside his penthouse. He headed straight to his room, and a moment later I heard the shower kick on. I’d wanted to go to him, to touch him, hold him—even if he probably didn’t want that—and show Arlo I was here for him.

  But instead I went to my room and showered. I had been able to still feel Leonid’s oily gaze on my body, and wanted to scrub my skin clean until there was no memory of tonight left.

  Now here I was, sitting on my bed with my hands clasped in my lap, my legs bare, and the only article of clothing I wore was a shirt that fell to midthigh.

  I stared at the partially opened door, having heard the shower in Arlo’s room turn off so long ago I’d been frozen in this spot, afraid to leave and talk to him, confront him… comfort him. But then I found myself pushing off the bed and standing, making my way out into the hall and to his room. The door was open, but he wasn’t there, the bed made, the room void of life.

  I heard a soft sound come from down the hall and walked on bare feet toward the kitchen. I stopped when I saw Arlo’s huge form standing against the granite breakfast counter, wearing only a pair of dark sweatpants, his chest bare and so wide and big, so muscular and powerful.

  He’d killed a man tonight with that body, with those hands.

  I felt my heart flutter in my chest and was walking toward him before I realized I was doing it. He didn’t look at me, although I knew he was fully aware I was moving forward. He brought a bottle of liquor to his mouth and took a long pull from it before setting it on the counter, the glass hitting the granite making a hard clank.

  I was a few feet from him and held my breath as he turned his head, and our gazes crashed together, held so strongly I felt it in the pit of my stomach.

  “Come closer,” he said so low it felt like an intimate caress against my body. There was no doubt in his tone I was not to disobey. But I didn’t move. I couldn't. Something held me back, maybe fear of these feelings inside me, maybe the unknown of what happened next. “Come here.”

  I was obeying him instantly after those two words spilled from his mouth, an anchor wrapping around me and tethering me to Arlo in a way that ensured I wouldn’t drift again.

  His hand shot out so fast that I had no time to react, to gasp… to run.

  He curled his hand around my waist and jerked me toward him, then spun me around and pressed me against the counter, my chest flush with the unforgiving, cold granite. The feeling of his body moving close to mine, his heat searing me from the inside out, was euphoric.

  The sound of his palms slapping the counter on either side of me was loud, causing my ears to ring, my body to tremble. His warm breath tickled my ear, and I shivered and closed my eyes.

  “You should have run,” he growled. “You should have run so far and fast from me that you thought there would be no chance for me to find you.” He used his foot to kick my legs apart, and I teetered against the counter to steady myself. I did make a sound then, one of shock and arousal at his forcefulness, at the fact that he was so clearly unhinged.

  “You would have found me.” The words were so thin, like a blade of grass in the wind, one you’re barely able to grasp as it slips through your fingers.

  He pressed his body flush with mine, and I snapped my eyes open at the feel of how hard he was, the thick rod nestled right between my ass cheeks, my shirt molded to my body and a barrier to what I really wanted.

  “That’s fucking right, Galina. I would have found you.” He pressed against my ass slowly, steadily, showing me what he was working with. “There isn’t any place on this fucking planet you could hide from me.” He slammed so hard against my ass that I was pushed forward slightly on the granite, my palms sweaty, slipping against the smooth top.

  I couldn't catch my breath. My pussy was soaked. This forcefulness coming from Arlo, the dominance and the way he spoke like he owned me and no one would ever have me but him was a fire between my legs that spread outward and threatened to burn the entire apartment down.

  “I wonder how wet you are right now. I wonder if I slipped my hands between your legs, if you’d soak my fingers.”

  I didn’t speak, couldn't, so instead I lifted my ass and ground the cheeks against his erection. The material of his sweatpants and my cotton shirt, and the fact that I wore no panties, left little to my imagination on what he was sporting between his legs, not when I could feel every hard inch, every defined ridge.

  He hissed against my ear, pushing the long fall of my hair over one shoulder and wrapping the strands around his fist, jerking my head farther to the side, keeping me stationed. He leaned down to lick my neck like some kind of creature tasting his meal. “You must like playing with wild animals, baby. You must like the risk of getting bitten.”

  I closed my eyes and moaned, a nonverbal affirmation that I wanted anything he had to give me.

  “So tell me… tell me how fucking wet your cunt is for my cock. Tell me how much your body weeps for me to fuck it.”

  “Why don’t you find out?” God, I really did want to get bitten as I taunted Arlo, as I lifted my ass and moved it back down, over and over again, grinding myself against him as if I had any clue what the hell I was doing. I had no idea how to seduce a man, but the lack of control and restraint I could feel coming from Arlo told me my lack of experience didn’t matter. He wanted me fiercely.

  He was still and tense behind me, as if my words had shocked him, maybe even pissed him off because I was going against him. I had no doubt not many people did, not if they valued their life. But when a deep sound of pure lust came from him, I knew I’d won. I knew he wouldn’t deny me, because whatever thoughts he’d been lost in before I’d come into the kitchen, before my presence dragged him out of the blood that covered his vision and mind, I was more powerful in this moment to have that wrought-iron will vanishing.

  He pushed that turmoil down so the man who was behind me was one who would fuck me to let me know we were both here and alive and nothing could change that. Because even if we both had some part of evil in our lives that festered, right here and now, Arlo was mine just as much as I’d always be his.

  And as he slid his hands over my arms and down my waist to grip my hips in a bruising hold, I knew without fault I’d never wanted to be broken more than I did right now.

  For a long moment he did nothing but hold me, his hands like vises around me. I wondered if he was trying to talk himself out of it, tell himself this was a bad idea, that crossing this line would end up changing everything. I wanted to yell and scream, look him in the eye and tell him things were already changed. I was already changed. And it was because of him.

  He growled. “I’ve always prided myself on being a man with control, that nothing could bring me to my knees—figuratively and literally. But where you’re concerned…” He ran the tip of his nose over the side of my neck, and I tilted my head to give him better access. “Where you’re concerned, I’ve never been more irrational or fucking crazed in my fucking life.”

  I felt him push my shirt up and didn’t stop him. I wouldn’t stop him for the life of me. The cool air moved over my bare ass, and when he leaned back and moaned at the fact that I wore no panties, I felt a gush of wetness slip between my thighs. Could he see how soaked my pussy was?

  “Jesus Christ, Galina.” More long seconds passed where he didn’t move, but I could feel his gaze on me, could feel him tracing the lines and curves of my ass with his eyes as if he was memorizing them.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw his gaze slide to the small hummingbird tattoo I had on my hip, a tiny thing with its wings spread out and its back arched. Arlo reached out to smooth a thick, calloused finger along the ink.

  “Hummingbirds can flash their colors but hide them as well,” I said softly, this hitch in my throat. I didn’t know why I felt the need to tell Arlo that, but the words spilled from me before I’d had time to stop them.

  I connected with the small bird that had a pulse of twelve hundred beats a minute, a tiny thing that was still mighty, that could hide but be seen… fast and smart. I liked to compare myself to such a creature, one complex even if on the outside it appeared fragile.

  My body shook as Arlo slid his finger along my skin before dropping his hand back to his side. His gaze, so dark and penetrating, had all thoughts leaving me aside from the wicked things I wanted him to do to me.

  “More,” he said in a voice so low it was almost menacingly.

  I took in a shuddering breath and did what he said, spreading my legs an inch more, wanting him to look at my inner thighs, to see how they were glossy because I was drenched.

  He let out a low hum of approval that sounded almost evil. It made me hotter. “Do you like taunting me, teasing me?”

  I knew it wasn’t a real question, not the way he phrased it. He curled a hand against one bare ass cheek, his blunt nails scraping over the flesh until I gasped from the sensation.

  I reached out farther to the edge of the counter, curling my fingers around the hard stone, bracing, giving myself leverage and purchase. I rose up on my toes to offer myself more to him, my entire chest flush with the counter, my toes barely on the floor now. I gave him a silent invitation.

  “Do you want me to lose control, moy svet? Do you want a gentleman or a monster fucking you for the first time?” His words were gasoline on the inferno inside me. I wanted it, however he gave it to me.

  “I want the real you.” I glanced over my shoulder so I could look into his eyes. I knew what I wanted. I knew how he wanted to give it to me. I didn't care about the pain. I wanted it. “I want the monster.”

  His eyes became hooded, his lips peeling back from his teeth in a feral display of alpha aggression and pure lust. Without taking his gaze off me, he smoothed a big palm over my ass, his hand so large I felt tiny beneath him, a little doll for this Russian beast.