He’s standing at the edge of the crowd, another woman locked in the iron vise of his forearm. It’s Clarissa, Master Jonathan’s sub, and her horror-film scream is cut off as Antonov jams his weapon into her side.
Jonathan looks over his shoulder, but he doesn’t stop recording.
“Please,” Clarissa pleads. “Please, please, please.”
Her eyes are darker than Breagha’s. She’s taller, too, or maybe that’s just the stilettos beneath her shuddering ankles. But that face… That hair… In a different timeline, she could be my sister.
I’m responsible for her. I’m the reason Tarasov is here. I wanted to come to Kynk, and now people are screaming, people are begging. Antonov is twisting his jagged piece of wood, digging it deeper into helpless Clarissa’s side.
I pull myself to my full height. “Go on,” I say to Cole. “Do it.”
Cole groans like a dying man. But before he can move, the room is filled with the sound of two heavy hands clapping. The applause comes from the darkness on the edge of the room. “Allright, Nikolai Pavlovich,” booms a deep Russian voice. “That is enough.”
Tarasov’s face twitches in annoyance.
“You have made your point,” says the voice. “Your bitch has accepted her punishment. She shows she is tamed. Now take Mr. Rider up on his offer. His Beluga Epicure truly is superb. Let these people go to their homes.”
Tarasov hisses, “Tishina,Evgeni.”
The man in the dark must be Evgeni Federov, New York’s pakhan. We’re on his territory. His word should control.
But Tarasov shouts, “No one will leave! Not until my game is done.” He turns back to Cole. “I am tired of waiting. Yes or no. Will you fuck mylisichka?Will you prove she’s tame? Or does Dima kill that whiningblyad,then put down my bride?”
It’s not fair to make Cole choose.Iwas born into the Irish mob.Ilet Pyotr Tarasov past the gate.Ikilled the feckin’ shitehawk.
I made a choice eighteen years ago, so I could protect my sister. And I can choose to protect Clarissa now. To protect her, and also to protect the man I love. I can keep Cole from making this impossible decision.
“He’ll do it,” I say.
“Kate—” He starts to protest.
“He’ll make it hurt,” I say, because nothing can stop what has to happen. “I promise.”
So with Jonathan recording, Tarasov hands Gage an obscene stack of money. When Rider refuses to take it, Tarasov stuffs the bills inside his cummerbund. Then he says, “Special request. That is how the game goes, yes? I get to make a special request?”
Gage turns his back on the pakhan.
Tarasov snorts in amusement before returning his attention to Cole and me. “Both of you. Naked. Now. And remember. Dima can move very fast when he wants to.”
It only takes a moment to pull off my blood-stained top. There’s a raw wound on my side, like rats have gnawed on my ribs. My fingers slide off the clasps of my pretty lace bra, but on the third try, I get it off.
Cole is more efficient even though he’s wearing more clothes. We finish at the same time.
He stares at me, helpless. His hands hang at his side. His cock is limp.
I do what has to be done.
The stage is hard beneath my knees. It’s cold in here, or maybe that’s my shock now that I’ve plummeted out of subspace. I have to swallow a few times to bring spit into my dry mouth.
Cole shudders as I cup his bollocks in my hand. Looking down at me, his face is a mask of emotions I can’t name. “Hurt me,” I mouth, and then I take his cock between my lips.
He doesn’t want this, but I know how to make him respond. The swirl of my tongue… The edge of my teeth… The way I suck extra hard at the tip…
He grimaces, but he’s hard in no time. Grabbing my chin to stop me from finishing the job, he pushes me onto all fours. Leaning close to my ear, he whispers, “Your safeword always works.”
I believe him. I always have. He’ll honor my safeword, even if it costs him his life. Even if it costs me mine. I nod, because there’s nothing left to say.
He follows Tarasov’s command.
