“Call him.” Ilya was rushing the stairs, thundering towards her in a hulking rush. Shouting over his shoulder, his command roared through the foyer, “I said call him now.”
Forcing Quinn back toward the hallway leading to her bedroom with his broad shadow alone, he ignored her challenges and shrieks. Blocking the way forward, he kept her cornered with only her bedroom and the nursery to escape to.
Anger melted down her back, filthy water that left her a sodden heap. Collapsing to the floor in a jumble of awkward limbs, she began to sob. Trying to grip the twisting ache that had taken up residence in her lower back and clawed her sides and stomach.
“Shh,kroshka.”
“It’s not fucking right! He’s not here, and it’s not right!”
Hunkered down on his heels, the Alpha towered over her. Large hands patting at the air, he tried to soothe without uttering a single sound of true comfort or touching her.
“What’s not right?”
“Everything!”
“You must stop yelling. You agitate the others.”
“Fuck them,” Quinn snarled, hauling her weight up to her knees. Shoving her face close to his, spittle slapped his cheek as she screamed. The sound was ragged, as adrift as the one rattling around her skull. Virulent agony pulsed through her chest, doubling her over as unseen hands squeezed her middle and twisted.
“We sure would like that, princess.” Randy leaned against the wall, sniffing at the air. His smile was too sharp, pupils wide as he looked over her crumpled body with what could only be called glee.
“Does it hurt, little one,” Maurice asked as he came up behind Randy. Shoving his way past, he stood wide legged and aggressive just behind Ilya’s bulk.
Fear began to trickle in through the confusion of pain. Racing up her spine, icy streamers snapped across her flesh as she hunched and panted before the three males.
Now four.
Darryl chuckled, the sound as dark as a moonless night as he took up position beside Maurice. More bodies cast their shadows across the hall, hanging back but lingering as they waited to see what would come. She didn’t have names for all the faces turned to her, but she knew their intent as well as she knew her own hand.
Lee wasn’t here, and she had challenged them with her cursing and screaming, all the demands she’d thrown at them. As long as she’d remained meek and subservient, they’d acknowledged Lee’s claim over her, tenuous as it was. She had thought they wouldn’t dare hurt her, but that had been stupid and naïve.
They wouldn’t hurt her only so long as she played by the rules.
She’d gone and broken them all.
Gasping as another racking pain encircled her hips, she skittered back on unsteady legs. Hunched over her belly in a useless protective gesture, one arm holding the wrenching pain close, she stared hard at the floor.
Then Ilya was there. Pinching her cheeks, jerking her chin up until terrified grays met apathetic blue. He gave a satisfied nod at whatever he saw in her face, but still he leaned down until the warm wash of his breath scattered over her face.
“Is that what you want,kroshka?”
Quinn’s head twitched in denial, unable to give the violent shake of her head she wanted with his cruel grip.
“You will behave now,da?”
Another twitch, this time to the affirmative, eyes widening as she saw bulky shadows drawing nearer. Quinn collapsed to the floor when Ilya took his hand away, choking back her low cries so as not to incite the violence simmering in the air to greater heights.
Ilya’s voice was too loud for the space as he ordered the others back downstairs. Pushing when needed, sending one male tumbling down the stairs when he didn’t turn away fast enough. Maurice squared off for a long moment before he, too, headed down the stairs in a lazy stroll as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Turning back, Ilya watched with a predator’s gaze as Quinn lost the battle and whimpered, clawing at the plush runner as she sunk lower to the ground. Jerking his shoulders as if settling a weight, he took a slow breath and then let it out before approaching her again. Crouching, he stood just outside of arm’s reach.
“Show me what is not right,kroshka.”
It took Quinn several tries to get her feet under her. A handful more to get upright and slink into the nursery, a trembling hand pointing at the dresser that had acted as a catalyst.
Ilya had it moved to the other wall in seconds, not even breaking a sweat. The other furniture was rearranged in no time at all. He crouched and gathered up pieces of things alongside Quinn, sorting them out to their appropriate places. Waited through the random bouts of agony that knotted her spine and twisted through her hips without a word.
“Stop that,” Ilya snarled, hand out as if he would grab at her arm as she arranged stacks of clothing into their drawers. He stopped short of his mark, hand falling to slap against his thigh.
