Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I walk to the kitchen and open the cabinet to get a glass for some water.
And I see it—all of my favorite foods, neatly arranged just for me.
My stomach twists.
He cleared the bar and fucked me up against it with a pool stick. I wonder.
Is he still hard?
Does he want to fuck me?
He said I belonged to him. That I’m his little brat.
His voice was low. Intimate.
Why do I love that?
And then he told me to run.
This is fucking unhinged.
But I’m not afraid.
I should be.
I can still see the man’s hand—his fucking hand—falling to the ground, blood spurting out like someone opened a fire hydrant of blood onto the street.
I didn’t flinch or scream but watched the blood pool on the ground, tilting my head to the side like I was studying art.
That man who was writhing and gurgling in pain?
He wasn’t even important.
My eyes went back to Matvei.
Not the hand.
Not the blood.
Him.
He did that for me.
My whole life, I’ve been used and discarded. Replaceable.
He did that for me.
How romantic.
If this is a game, it’s the exact kind of game I like to play. With a wistful sigh, I open the cabinet and reach for a snack.
And then—the lights go out. I’m in pitch dark.
Not just in my apartment but the whole block.
“Wow, buddy, you don’t do shit in half measures, eh?”
Outside, I hear a car alarm shriek and a distant yell. Voices, the muffled thud of something hitting the concrete. My breath catches.
This isn’t just a power outage. It’s him. Coming for me. He loves the game, and so do I. But what’s going to happen when I can’t get away anymore?
I was under control once—I was hurt and abused, and I won’t ever let that happen again. But this is… god, this is so different.
My ass still aches from where he spanked me. My pussy clenches at the memory of the pool stick sliding in and out of me. And if I had a light and a mirror, I’d still see where he bit me. Matvei left his mark on me, but it doesn’t feel the way it did before.
I stand, glass in hand, water sloshing over the sides, and take a long sip.
When I initially got to Paris, the first thing I did was get in touch with the Irish. “Our deal is over,” O’Rourke told me, his voice chilling. “Don’t call again.” I’m told The Undertaker had my name scourged from their files as well.
I know it’s not personal. It never was.
That’s the problem.
What now?
I could flee to the depths of the earth and change my whole identity. Again. But I wasn’t created for a nomadic existence, moving from place to place and never putting down roots. I have no friends and a list of enemies a mile long.
I set the glass down so quietly it doesn’t even clink.
The front door is locked, as useless as that is. But I can feel him. And just as before, I can hear him breathing. My skin prickles, and my stomach flips.
Why does he say I’m his?
My thighs clench because I know what’s coming, and a sick, twisted part of me wants it.
I take a step toward my bedroom, treading lightly, listening for any sound that he’s near, and the second my foot touches the cool wooden floor, a hand clamps over my mouth.
Hot. Rough.
Familiar.
I grin around the calloused palm.
Oh, hello.
His other hand slides around my waist, jerking me back against him as my ass is pressed to the thick line of his cock. Already hard. Already hungry.
“Little brat.” He breathes in my ear, his voice a low purr that drips down my spine. “I wanted to see where you’d go while I cleaned up my job.”
I lick his palm, causing him to flinch, but he holds me tighter.
Did he like that?
I bite his palm hard enough to taste copper.
Growling, he spins me, shoving me onto the bed, where he pushes my head down hard.
“You like blood, Anissa?”
“Depends.”
“You think you’re funny.”
“I know I am.”
Flipping me to my back, he grabs my jaw roughly in his palm and kisses me… hard. Punishing. Teeth against mine, fingers digging into my throat until I’m gasping. His tongue fucks my mouth with possession.
I want to fight him.
I want to fuck him.
I want to slit his throat.
So naturally, I kiss him back.
When we break apart, we’re panting. I feel the smear of his blood across my chin from where I bit him.
“Coward,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t want freedom, do you?”
He’s right, and I hate him for it.
I love him for it.
I’m confused as fuck.
But I know what I don’t want.
“Was that for me, Matvei? What you did in the alley? Are you in trouble with Rafail?” I lower my voice, having fun. “Are you going to get a spanking for being a bad boy?” I sigh. “You cut the man’s hand off. How romantic. Tell me something.” I lean in closer to him. “Would you have done that if he’d just looked at me wrong? Or was it the touch?”