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“But he didn’t threaten me.”
Nikolai took another step toward me. “He didn’t realize you wandered off. You got hurt because of that. He’s also to blame for putting your life in danger. So I had to take care of it. He couldn’t be trusted any longer.”
I slowly shook my head, backing away. But he advanced, a little growl leaving him. “Don’t look at me that way.”
I wet my lips and said, “what way?” Of course I knew what he was talking about. I could feel the fear coating me like a full vat of honey. It was thick and sticky, almost suffocating.
“Like you’re terrified of me.” I did stop then. Because although I wasn’t terrified of him, I was once again frightened of the power he wielded.
I looked at the blood on his collar once more, pictured in the heinous way he killed that man, a man who didn’t deserve to die because he literally did nothing wrong.
And I knew telling–asking–Nikolai to stop hurting people was a lost cause. That was like trying to stop the starving dog from eating a steak.
“I’m not so much scared of you,” I whispered when he stopped right in front of me. “But scared of the fact you act before you think.” I would’ve never thought of saying this to my father.
But I didn’t brace myself for a hit, didn’t expect pain from my disobedience and putting my foot in my mouth, speaking my mind and my opinion. Instead Nikolai lifted his hand and cupped my cheek, staying silent for so long I didn’t know if he’d ever respond.
“I am who I am.” His words were finally spoken after long moments, his voice low, almost distant in tone. “I’m not a good man.” He’d been previously looking at my lips and slowly trailed his gaze up to my eyes, his hand still on my cheek, his thumb sweeping gently under my eye. “But you’re the only good thing I’ve ever had in my life.”
I sucked in a short breath and then held it in.
“Don’t you know I’d never hurt you? Don’t you know I’d never let anyone ever harm you again.” His eyes flashed fire and ice, his voice a balm that soothed my battered soul.
I knew he was referring to my father and I got emotional over it.
“Hey now,” he crooned and brushed an errant tear from my cheek. “You save those tears for when I’m fucking you and you’re begging for more.”
My heart was pounding so hard it was painful, threatening to burst through my ribs. How could I hate this man? How could I loathe what he did when he said things like that, when he protected me above all else.
“Nikolai…”
“Tell me you’re mine. Only mine.” His gaze was back on my lips and I wet them, my throat feeling tight, dry. My pussy was soaking wet, and I clenched my thighs together, a little needy sound leaving me.
“I’m yours.” The words were breathless, and as I watched his nostrils flare, his eyes spark fire once more, I knew what was going to happen. I knew he was going to take me fast and hard, brutal and unforgiving.
25
Amara
“Easy, baby.”
Nikolai’s voice soothed me and I glanced over at him as the car that had picked us up from the airstrip stopped in front of my childhood home. Even after only being gone for less than a week, staring at the massive two-story structure made me feel nothing but empty hollowness.
It didn’t feel like home. Not anymore. Not when I felt alive for the first time being with Nikolai. He gave me that genuine feeling, that sensation that I actually belonged somewhere.
The sun started to set and I was thankful that we wouldn’t be here that long. Dinner, Nikolai and my father speaking, and then hopefully we’d be able to plan for Claudia to come stay with us.
Thinking she’d be able to come back with us tonight was wishful thinking, and something I wasn’t holding onto hope for.
I wasn’t surprised that the front door wasn’t opening for us automatically, even though I knew everyone was aware we’d arrived. The way we left last time had no doubt put a toxic wallbetween us. I’m sure my father hated me even more than he already had.
And the fact he didn’t welcome us, didn't have staff there to greet us, showed me as much. In his eyes I was not welcome here as family.
Maybe Nikolai felt my physical reaction, because my muscles certainly felt like they constricted at the thought. He smoothed his hand up and down the length of my spine, murmuring something in Russian, something I couldn’t understand because it was so soft. But it sounded sweet, encouraging even.
Nikolai brought his knuckles down on the front door. Three hard, almost aggressive raps that almost had my lips twitching. He was in full alpha mode it seemed. He wanted to fight my battles, and I wasn’t ashamed enough to not welcome it. I might be strong in several aspects of my life, but when it concerned Marco Bianchi, I’d take all the help I could get.
And who was going to turn down help from Nikolai Petrov, head of the Bratva?
