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“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?
