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My rhythm is grueling, but she doesn’t ask me to slow down. She gasps into my mouth when I hit the barrier of her cervix. When I let her take a breath, a scream tears from her throat. I barely have time to clamp a hand over her mouth. Screaming will attract the attention of the guards, and there are too many cracks in the wall through which to peep.

Mina is my show, no one else’s.

She shakes her head, trying to tell me something, but I’m beyond listening. Nothing matters but getting us both over the line to the only place that will soothe this goddamn insane ache.

Keeping one hand over her mouth, I sit back and rub her clit harder. Her inner muscles tighten with her orgasm, triggering my own release.

The blast of pleasure is beyond intense, but I don’t stop moving. Not yet. My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her thigh as I pump myself dry. The high doesn’t let me go, not even when my cock starts going soft. My breathing is heavy, my head spinning.

This woman. She’s fucking dangerous.

I release her mouth, keeping the connection between our bodies.

“Yan,” she says on a hoarse whisper, her eyes wide.

I can’t help the heat in my voice, not after what we’ve shared. “What?”

“You didn’t use a condom.”

I freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This never happened before. Wait, no. It almost happened in Budapest. With her. She warned me then too, in time. I look down to where her milky white lap is draped over mine, her pussy still stuffed full of my cock. I jerk out. My release leaks from her slit, dribbling down her ass. I should feel a lot of things at the sight, but not the perverted satisfaction that feeds an animalistic part of me.

What have I done?

Yes, she is fucking dangerous, and not because of what she does for a living.

Moving out from under her, I get to my feet.

“Yan?”

I ignore the tremble in her voice as I go for my clothes.

Why the fuck didn’t she stop me? Because I had my hand pressed over her mouth.

I shake inside as I pull on my pants, socks, and shoes, not meeting Mina’s eyes. I only look at her again when I use my shirt to wipe up the spillage between her legs. She says nothing. I pull the shirt down over her body to cover her, then loosen the rope tied to the wall just enough to let her sit up.

I feed her the sandwich with lettuce and tomato to get some vegetables into her body, a need that seemed crucial at the time I made it and insubstantial in light of the current situation. When she’s done, I make her drink the water, and then I get the hell out of there, stumbling into the night.

13

Mina

It’s a long night. With the loosened rope, I can turn on my sides on the bench, relieving the cramps in my muscles. The ache between my legs is something entirely different. There’s no remedy to take that away. Nothing can undo what Yan has done.

I’m not on birth control. It may be difficult for me to conceive, but not impossible.

Why did he do it? Why did he come inside me?

Because it doesn’t matter. He’s going to kill me anyway. I guess some men aren’t sentimental about things like that, about the possibility of wiping out their gestating seed along with the woman who carries it.

When dawn breaks, Yan returns with a breakfast of bread and water. Afterward, he takes me outside to pee before tying me up in the chair.

Nothing is said of last night.

He comes back sometime during midmorning.

Unscrewing the cap of a bottle of water, he comes to stand in front of me. “Open your mouth.”

My lips are halfway parted when he takes a pill from his pocket. I slam my mouth shut, panic rushing through me. Pills can have detrimental effects. Lethal. I know with sudden insight that’s the method he’d use. A blade is too messy. Drowning will get water on his fancy clothes. A bullet is too quick, too easy for a traitor, and when you strangle someone, you have to look into her eyes.

“What is it?” I ask.

His features are tight. “The morning-after pill.”

That takes me by surprise. I guess this particular killer is sensitive to wiping out his spawn after all.

“Open,” he says again, this time with impatience.

When I open my mouth, he puts the pill on my tongue and tips back the bottle for me to swallow. I take a few sips. He catches a drop that runs from the corner of my lips with his thumb.

“I’m assuming there’s no pharmacy on site,” I say. “How did you get it so fast?”

“You’d be surprised by the kind of resources money can buy.” He gives me a cold smile. “Then again, maybe not.”

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