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His hand cupped my breast, squeezing it tightly, eliciting a moan from me as he bent to suckle it. When his teeth bit my nipple, I cried out just as he pumped his cock harder into me before stilling as he roared out his release.
Moments later, I heard the shower turn on as I looked down the hall towards my room. He was in there, the rage within him still riding him hard.
After he finished with me, he stepped back as I slowly sank to the floor. My body was sore from his assault. He never blinked as he took in the sight of me. I never showed fear, as I refused to look away.
My Russian bear was still an animal as his body heaved deep breaths as he tried to quell the bloodletter within.
It was a losing battle.
He was the bloodletter, and until he sated his thirst, his rage would control him.
I sat there on the floor, against the wall in my living room as he walked towards my room and disappeared. I could have run. I should have. He was no longer my problem. He made that perfectly clear a year ago, but I couldn’t leave him like this. Some small part of me refused to let me get up and save myself. The need to help him overrode every sane thought in my head.
He was my addiction.
The very poison that ran in my veins.
Together, we were the antidote that could only save us.
Slowly getting to my feet, I winced, rubbing my thigh. Looking down, I could clearly see his fingers still embedded in my skin as he gripped me firmly. Bruises already forming on my pale skin.
The first of many before my time with him ended.
Slowly making my way down the hall, I entered my room to find his bloody clothes scattered along my floor. Not bothering to pick them up, I headed into the bathroom.
Almost as if on autopilot, I opened the shower door and slipped in behind him. He stood with one hand braced on the wall, his head bowed as the hot water washed the remnants of night away.
He never moved, didn’t even flinch when I placed my hand on his back to help wash away the blood that soaked through his clothes onto his skin, revealing the black Russian cross that signified his allegiance to the Bratva brotherhood. The ravens scattered around, signifying the men and women he killed along the way.
There were many of them.
Unlike the Italian Mafia, I learned early that the Russian Bratva didn’t distinguish between male and female. It didn’t matter. Cross the Bratva and they would kill you. I also learned that the brotherhood came first before everything, including me.
Maybe that was the thing that kept me from giving into his claim. I knew he loved me in his own way, but not enough to put me first. I guess it really didn’t matter, anyway.
He severed any hope we had of making our marriage work a year ago. I knew it and he did, too. Only he was too damn stubborn to believe it.
Laying my head against his back, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “What happened?”
His body sagged as the violence of what he saw and did weighed heavily on him. “He tortured her,Moya Lyubov.”
Closing my eyes, I tried not to imagine what Tessa went through, but images of her beautiful face contorted in agony as she screamed out and cried for help filtered into my head. Tears I didn’t know I could shed for a woman I barely knew rolled down my face, masked by the water falling around us.
“After Montana rescued her, I killed the survivors. I did it for her. He got away. Ran like the coward he is, but not before leaving me a message,” he said, pushing off the wall, turning to face me. Cupping my face, my heart picked up as I whispered, “What message?”
Maxim shivered, shaking his head as his eyes closed.
“Tell me,” I whispered, my hands drifting up his chest. “Please.”
Maxim opened his eyes and said, “You’re next.”
Chapter Sixteen
Illyria
He was finally asleep.
It took another round of him using my body in the shower before he finally succumbed to exhaustion. Now he lay in my bed, sprawled out, sleeping peacefully as the horrors of the night finally released him.
