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I turn toward him, not missing the way Yuliya is glaring at Corbin. Her cheeks are red, and the frown on her face says what her silence doesn’t. She’s not happy with whatever Corbin just said. Or maybe with this situation in general.
“No, we aren’t,” I say, turning back to Corbin.
My fist connects with his jaw, releasing all the emotions I’ve been holding in. He grunts, but makes no move to defend himself, or hit me back. The punch wasn’t as satisfying as I’d imagined it to be this entire time. Probably because Saoirse isn’t here. She’s somewhere out there alone, hurting. And I’m here, jealous of a man that doesn’t even matter. Still, I can’t stop myself. I have to claim her. It’s not a want, as much as it’s a visceral need to make sure everyone knows we belong to each other.
There’s no life for me if she’s not safe in my arms. The raw aching in my chest is only a preview of what life will be like without her.
“You want me to say it?” I move to rip off the bandage from my palm. “I fucked your fiancé while I slit the same mark into her hand. She was never yours. She’s mine. She’s always been mine. And you’re right. My name coming off her lips?” I step back, chuckling. “It’s the only name she’llevercry out.”
Corbin watches me for a moment, surveying something. Then he nods his head. “Fine. Let’s bring her back so we can discuss this with Callum.”
“Fucking idiots. All of you!” Yuliya shouts. “Can we get a location from this fool so we can move on?” Her head shakes, and she continues to glare at Corbin.
“No need. Sean just texted us a location. He pinged a frequent number from a phone left at Saoirse’s. It’s Vlad’s, and it’s in Albany.” Declan heads for us, taking the left-behind soldier. “I’ll take him back to one of our shops. You go with Yuliya.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
MyjawachesasI chew on a burnt piece of toast. There’s overcooked eggs on my plate, too, but I refuse them. Vlad sits beside me, hand squeezing my knee while he shovels food into his mouth.
“The eye is better today,” Fyodor says from across the table.
Vlad grunts. “It’s still too swollen.”
I run a finger over my palm. It tingles, and I know it’s because it’s a fresh wound. But something inside pushes me to stay strong. Like an intuition, it tells me he’ll be here soon. My savior. Instinct has me reaching for my neck, and my heart drops when I realize my necklace is missing.
“Did you sleep well, Fyodor?” I ask, trying to keep him on my good side.
He narrows his eyes at me, then turns back to Vlad. “What if we marry you two now, then do a ceremony later?”
Vlad nods. “Good idea, Fyodor.” He turns to me. “What do you think,printessa?”
Now’s the time to show him I’m a person with feelings and hope there’s some soft part of him I can latch on to. I set the burnt toast down, then turn, giving him a warm smile. “Do you have sisters, Vlad?” I ask.
He stares at me for a beat, then shakes his head.
“I’ve been dreaming about my wedding since I was old enough to understand what love is. Been thinking about my dress. I even designed one. It’s beautiful, with a low neckline and lace clinching the bodice.” I run a hand through my tangled mess of hair.
Apparently none of these men own a brush, or even a comb. I haven’t been able to brush my hair, and it shows. Vlad catches my wrist. He pulls my hand away, and begins combing the knots himself, humming as he does.
My breathing picks up, hating the way he leans into me, hating the way he’s trying to care for me, the way he’s obsessing over my hair. But I know this fascination may help me out here. “My hair will be curled,” I say. “With diamonds around my neck and in my hair.”
He grunts, still playing with the locks. Now it’s time to pull out the waterworks. I close my eyes, inhale sharply, and I think of the way it feels to not know what will happen next. The way my chest cracks open with each agonizing second that Scotty hasn’t found me. How much it hurts to know he was most likely with another woman while I was being taken.
I think of how badly my head hurts, how my eye is swollen practically shut, how my life is falling apart. Crumbling. Like an earthquake, my foundation is gone in just a blink of an eye. Then, I open them, and the tears fall. I reach for the hand in my hair, squeezing it. Commanding his attention.
“Please, don’t take away my dream, Vlad. Please let me have my dress.”
His hand clenches around red tresses, fisting them until it burns. “It will happen soon enough. For now, we do the quick thing and get it over with.”
No.
My nails dig into his arm. The words are there, ready to spill out. I’m already married. I’m already taken, claimed. He can’t have me. Instead, I clear my throat and nod.
“I need some things,” I whisper.
Vlad’s jaw clenches, clearly over being patient with me. “Make a list and Fyodor will take care of it.”
He releases my hair, relieving the pressure. I bring my hand to the back of my head, soothing the throbbing from his hard grip. I’m not sure what his obsession is with my hair, but I don’t think I can take much more of the rough way he handles it.
