Chapter 3

Nicolai

Laina gave me the information I needed, but it wasn”t until I spoke with Rafael—my friend, who went by the name of Maksym in another time and place—did I fully understand the severity of the threat against Marissa.

If I tell her why she needs to leave, she will never believe me. And I don”t trust her not to run to her boyfriend or friends, or to say something to her father. Against every fucking instinct I had, I decided to take her.

”Where to, brother?” I asked Raf. I needed an out. I even considered taking her back to our compound in Russia, but Raf cautioned me against that.

”They”ll look there,” he says. ”They might expect you to go home. Go to Boston.”

”Boston?”

”In Boston, we have Bratva connections. They”re neutral.”

Neutral... loyal to neither us nor our enemies. Neutrality is far from safe. On a dime, with enough incentive, they could turn.

”And if you go to Boston, you can grab a flight out of Logan easily to damn near anywhere if you need to.”

”Fuck. They”ll find out,” I protested.

”Soon,” he said. ”But not until you”ve ended the threat against her safety.”

I hate this. I fucking hate this.

So I”m taking her to Boston, to the compound Rafael has recommended to me. It”s a two-day journey at best, four-day at worst. I”ll have to keep her hidden. Stay under the radar of the fucking Bratva of Atlanta, the most formidable group in the states.

But I”ll do everything I can to keep this girl safe.

”Here I am, thinking you are the one who is supposed to protect me,” Marissa prattles on. A part of me hates seeing her tear-stained eyes, ringed black from the smudged mascara lining them. A part of me longs to console her. To tell her the truth. But if I did, all could be lost.

”I said be quiet,” I tell her. ”I”m not telling you again.”

”Are you threatening me?” she asks.

”No,” I tell her calmly. ”I”m warning you. You”re in danger, Marissa. You will do exactly what I tell you.”

”Or what? You”ll hurt me?” She doesn”t sound angry, though, but hurt, and hell if that doesn”t kill me.

My thoughts immediately turn to really hurting her, of causing her pain, draping her over my knee and watching her skin redden beneath the heft of my palm... punishing her while she begs for mercy. I breathe in and let the breath out, schooling my features and ignoring the rampant desire that consumes me.

She”s a fucking child.

It can”t happen. It won”t happen.

But she must do what I tell her.

No, I won”t promise I won”t hurt her.

I”ll do whatever the hell I need to keep her safe.

”You wouldn”t hurt me, Nicolai,” she says, her voice tinged with the betrayal written in her eyes. It”s more of a plea than a statement.

”I wouldn”t test that theory if I were you.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. Turning away from me, she looks out the window and watches the houses go by in silence. So quietly I almost miss it, she takes her phone out and sends a message.

I reach over, snatch it out of her hand, and tuck it into my pocket.

”Hey! Seriously, Nicolai, what the hell?”

I don”t respond at first. She stomps her feet on the floorboards of the car and clenches her hands in fists of rage, growling like an angry kitten. Marissa isn”t used to not getting what she wants.

She”s swiping angrily at the tears that fall down her cheeks.

I want to kiss those tears away and pull her to me. Tuck her into my chest and promise her she”ll be okay. At the same time, I”m tempted to turn her over my knee and teach her to behave.

But not now.

”I thought you were one of the good ones,” she says. ”I”ve always thought you were a good man.”

I don”t respond. Maybe if I ignore her completely, she”ll give up on the damn chatter. I”m trying to fucking think.

”And now you”ve taken me from my home. You know this is illegal, don”t you? You know you could go to jail for this, don”t you?”

I fucking do know this, but I also know that she”s pushing her boundaries to see how far she can go with me, just like she always does. Only this time this is no curfew or frat party she”s sneaking into.

She”ll learn to behave.

”I said be quiet. If you speak again until I tell you to, I”m going to pull this car over and gag you.” I shake my head. ”Khristos.”

Her jaw drops so fast it”s almost comical, but to her credit she doesn”t speak. For a whole minute.

”Where are we going? Can you at least tell me that?”

She needs to learn that I mean what I say, and she needs to learn that now.

I look in the rearview mirror, confirming no one”s followed us, then pull over onto the side of the road. Gravel crunches beneath the tires as I skid to a stop. Her body stills, her hands placed firmly on her lap, her gaze slowly coming to me. I look around the vacant interior of the car and find nothing suitable to gag her with. We left with fucking nothing but the clothes on my back, the weapons on my body and in my glove box, and my wallet. She”s got nothing but the clothes she”s wearing, and her phone, which is now mine.

She”s wearing a skimpy little black dress, her hair hanging about her in billowy waves. I”ve got nothing that would work to gag her and wish I hadn”t made the damn threat. I could use my belt, but gagging with a belt is clumsy and awkward.

I”m wearing a button-down dress shirt and a t-shirt underneath. I quickly unbutton the shirt and toss it aside, then yank off my t-shirt. She watches me in wide-eyed fascination, flushing madly when she looks at my bare chest, crisscrossed with tattoos and scars. It”s the first time she”s looked at me like this that I”ve noticed, and my stomach tightens.

The air between us crackles, and I”m vividly aware of the way her breath is coming in ragged, labored gasps.

”Okay,” she says, holding her hands up in the air as if in surrender. ”I”ll—I”ll be quiet,” she stammers, turning away from me. ”Please. I”ll do what you say but I—mmmphhh!”

I”ve twisted the t-shirt into a sort of rope and threaded it between her lips, tying it into a knot at the back of her head.

Her muffled anger fades to garbled pleading, which I stoutly ignore, then I sit back heavily down beside her and put my shirt back on. She watches every move before her hands fall into her lap helplessly as I pull back on the road, intent on getting to our first stop. I pick up my phone and dial Rafael.

”You got her?”

”Yeah,” I tell him. ”Anyone know yet?”

”No. Laina”s confirming her story, so it’ll be a few days until everyone knows. Hopefully by then you”ll find what you need to.”

”Hopefully.”

I have no idea what the fuck I”m doing with her. Where the fuck we”re going. What the fuck I”ll do when I get there, or how she”s going to react.

We drive for several hours, until her head bobs to the side and she”s dozing off, and it”s almost normal, almost natural even, like we”re a couple on a fucking road trip. But I know better, and my conscience doesn”t relent for a second. What I want to do to her now that I have her alone, now that the brotherhood of Bratva brothers isn”t hovering over me, should land me in jail for life.

But she looks so pretty and helpless, lying against the door, my t-shirt gagging her pretty mouth. It”s undeniably erotic, having her under my control.

When my eyes burn from lack of sleep and I”m convinced no one”s followed us, that we have this momentary freedom, I finally decide to stop at a hotel somewhere in the Carolinas.

”Marissa.” I gently push her shoulder, and she wakes with a start, mumbling and flailing. She”s frightened. She ought to be. Still, I need to settle her.

I lean over and gently restrain her, pushing her wild limbs down and kneeling on one knee beside her.

”Stop it,” I order.

She looks at me then out the window and back again, her tear-filled eyes flashing with something I can”t quite place, but soon the heated glare is unmistakable. She”s pissed, and hell if that doesn”t make my cock hard just looking at her.

She”s gorgeous any day. She”s stunning when she”s angry.

”Mmmph.”

Kneeling beside her, with my hands at the back of her head on the gag, I instruct her. ”I will remove this gag if you promise to do exactly what I say. Do you understand me?”

She nods wildly.

I unknot my t-shirt and pull the gag free. She rubs her mouth and looks down, momentarily chastened while waiting for me to free her, though her eyes quickly flash at me again before she schools her features. I quickly unbutton my shirt and pull the slightly damp t-shirt back on, inhaling deeply but turning away from her so she doesn”t know how the shirt, permeated with her scent and essence, affects me. I swallow hard, keeping my face stern and immovable.

”That was awful,” she whispers. ”I hate when you”re mean.”

Oh, no, we are not playing that game.

I lift her chin and bring her eyes to mine. ”That wasn”t awful. What you face if you disobey me? That will be awful. We”re going into the hotel, and I insist you behave yourself. You speak to no one. You keep your eyes down. You do exactly what I tell you. Am I clear?”

Those gorgeous, luminous eyes look at me with hurt and anger and something deeper... something molten.

Fuck.

But she nods obediently, and I almost believe she”s going to behave.

”Tell me you”ll behave, Marissa.”

”Fine,” she says in a whisper, then yawns widely. The girl”s exhausted.

”I mean it,” I warn, and I fucking do.

”I know,” she says, yawning again. ”I”ll be good.”

I”m not convinced.

I chose the smallest, hole-in-the-wall hotel I could find, far less likely to be on the Bratva”s map. The car I borrowed is unmarked, untraceable to my father or my brothers. My phone the same. Hers, however... I pull it out of my pocket and frown at it, then shove it back it. I”ll have to dispose of it, but it”s best if she doesn”t know. She won”t be too happy about that.

Walking into a place like this without bags won”t draw any attention. This hotel was built for one-night stands. I open the door and gesture for her to go in ahead of me, earning me a heated glare.

”So now you”re the gentleman,” she says with an eye-roll.

”Watch the attitude, little girl.” Khristos, my palm itches to spank her feisty little ass.

She shoots me a mischievous grin.

Perhaps intimidation isn”t the smartest tactic after all, given how she”s misbehaved underneath my watchful eyes for years. I decide to try a different approach.

I”ve noted her wide-eyed gazes, the way she fidgets when I pull closer to her. If my suspicions are right... and she is at all attracted to me in any way... I could try another angle.

I’m well versed in the fine art of domination.

I take her by the elbow and pull her to me in the small entryway before we enter the main lobby. Her skin is silk beneath my fingers, her fragrance exhilarant, but I take a deep breath and fix her with a warning look. Leaning in close, I brush her hair behind her ear, wanting to do so much more than that. To tangle my fingers in that mass of gorgeous waves and tug her head back before I capture her mouth with mine.

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

I bring my mouth to her ear, caging her in the little space. ”Unless you misbehave on purpose, Marissa? Is that what you want? Do you want me to punish you?”

The sound she emits is like a little mouse caught in a trap, a fetching squeak that almost makes me smile.

”Of course not,” she protests, but the flush of her cheeks and widened eyes betray her.

”Are you sure about that?” I ask, hoping to embarrass her into silence. Gently, I run my fingers along the back of her neck, just enough to remind her how I control this. How I control her.

Just enough to ensure her compliance.

I shouldn”t be doing this. Khristos, I shouldn”t be doing this, but the way her eyelids flutter and her cheeks color, I can”t stop myself. What I wouldn”t give to lay her down and make her moan until the sun sets and rises on a new day.

”Are you sure you don”t want just that?” I keep my voice suggestive and salacious, allowing her time to think about the image I paint for her. ”Me, overpowering you?”

She shakes her head but moves closer to me and swallows hard. She trembles, and it’s fucking beautiful.

I lean in and press my mouth so close to her ear I feel her warmth. ”Laying you over my knees for the spanking you know you deserve?”

”Nooo,” she says, but it”s a moan this time, and though she”s shaking her head, she”s moved even closer to me.

”Then be a good girl,” I breathe in her ear.

I want to eradicate the thought of every boy that ever touched her from her mind. Master her body, inside and out, leave my mark on her and show her the ways of a lover.

I release her, but grab her hand and walk to the desk. Guilt hounds me, but I shove it away. I have to keep her safe, even if that means pulling out all the fucking stops.

”Can I help you, sir?” A lanky young man with longish red hair and beady little eyes sits back at a chair at the counter, his feet stretched out in front of him like he”s settling down to watch a game of Sunday night football. His mouth opens when he eyes Marissa, but a sharp look from me makes him sit up a little straighter and close his mouth.

”We need a room for tonight,” I say, weaving my fingers through hers and tugging her close to me so that we look like a couple. But hell, she”s thirteen years my junior and barely fucking legal.

He grins lewdly, and I want to wrap my hands around his scrawny neck. ”Suite with one king?”

I huff out a breath I didn”t know I was holding, pull out a wad of cash, and hold it in my fist.

”I need a double.”

”No doubles,” he chants, but his eyes are on the bills. ”The suite has a pullout couch, though, a flat-screen TV, and includes the continental breakfast in the morning.”

”Fine,” I tell him.

He has me fill out the paperwork. I use a fake name and hand him cash.

He takes my money, then hands me a key. ”Room 492,” he says. ”Enjoy your stay.”

I thank him and pull her along with me, eager to get out of his sight. We should have some time before anyone”s looking for her, but I don”t want to push my luck. She trots beside me, thankfully quiet, until we get to the elevator.

”That guy was terrified,” she says, her voice awed.

I look at her in surprise. It”s the last thing I expected her to say. I”m used to others being scared in my presence and don”t give it a second thought. Every one of the members of the Bratva, every one of my brothers, is physically intimidating, tattooed, stern. We command the largest, most formidable underworld army in America.

”Wish he wasn”t the only one afraid,” I mutter.

A beat of silence passes while we wait for the elevator. ”He isn”t,” she says quietly.

Good. And she doesn”t even fucking know what I”m capable of. I need her to do what I tell her, not to fuck around with her safety and mine.

Alright, mostly hers. I can take care of myself, but Marissa...

I”m not in the mood for small talk. ”What did I tell you about being quiet?” I remind her. With a pout, she bows her head. Hell, I love the way she looks like this, all submissive and obedient.

My mind races with possibilities, where we need to go next and what needs to happen. I need a plan, and so far I don”t even have food or clothes. I”ve got a destination, a car, and soon the hounds of fucking hell at my heels.

The elevator smells dank and musty. The carpet is threadbare, the overhead lighting dismal and yellow. She should have luxury and opulence, and I hate her being anywhere near this miserable hell hole. We’ll do what we have to, though. We ride the elevator up in silence. I hope to fucking hell the bedroom is clean.

She taps her foot on the floor, fiddles with her hair, then finally bites her lip when she catches me looking at her. I don”t give her any reassurance. Nothing. My primary goal right now is keeping her safe.

We cruise to a stop on our floor, and when the doors open, I take her by the hand. Our room is only a few steps away but still, I check both ways, still leery of anyone following us. Still on guard for anything at all that would pose a threat to her. Always watchful.

Marissa stands in silence when I open the door. It takes three times before the damn door opens, stupid cheap locks, and when I finally get it unlocked, I drag her in the room with me.

”Oh, charming,” she says when I flick the light on. I scowl at the ”suite” before us. It”s the size of a postage stamp, the ”pullout sofa” no more than an arm chair that supposedly pulls out, a tiny table with two chairs beside the bed.

”Son of a bitch,” I mutter. I”m fucking exhausted and ready for sleep, not knowing what awaits us next. I glance at Marissa. I don”t even know if I can trust the girl. I toy with the idea of tying her up or restraining her in some way, but she needs her damn rest, too. I take the cushion off, only to find the bed portion of the sleeper chair is missing the actual mattress. It”s otherwise passably clean.

”So... any chance this place has free toiletries? Cable?” she asks, going to the bathroom.

The nonchalance baffles me. Does she have no idea the danger we”re in? Why would I take her the way I have without good cause?

I go look with her, but there”s only a slim bar of soap and shampoo. I don”t like that she”s so carefree, like we”re here for a little mid-week getaway, but what does she even fucking know? I haven”t told her anything, because I don”t trust her not to fuck up our escape.

”We can try the desk,” I suggest, picking up the phone and dialing. I dump the contents of my pockets out onto the bedside table before I lift the receiver, and dial. The phone rings seven times before someone answers it. I pinch the bridge of my nose, my vision blurred from all the driving.

”Yeah?” It”s the idiot at the front desk.

”Do you happen to have any toothbrushes?” I ask, already feeling my nerves rising at the sound of his voice.

”All out,” he says.

”Deodorant?”

”Out.”

I huff out an impatient breath, but keep my voice steady. ”Thanks.”

I turn to find Marissa hastily putting something behind her back, her wide eyes betraying her guilt.

What the hell?

”Come here,” I tell her. I clench my fists, controlling my desire to grab her by the hair and haul her to me.

”What?” She wants me think she”s innocent, but she”s fucking not.

”Now.”

Tentatively, so slowly it barely looks like she”s moving, she makes her way toward me, but I don”t wait. I take a step toward her, watching as she captures her beautiful, full lips between her teeth. She lets out a little squeak when I grasp her upper arm and tug her toward me until she”s flush up against my chest.

I ignore her intoxicating, feminine smell, crisp citrus mixed with delicate floral undertones, the scent that permeates my every waking hour and dreams. She”s fucking around and still hasn”t gotten the memo that I mean every damn word I say. She has no idea how much danger she”s in. No fucking idea.

I take her wrists and draw them forward, prying her hands open to reveal her cell phone.

Anger boils up inside me so hard and fast I have to school my features so I don”t terrify her, but fuck if I don”t need to give her a taste of what she”s up against.

This beautiful, headstrong, brilliant girl is on the cusp of losing every fucking drop of innocence she possesses. The thought of anyone touching her—hurting her…

”What did I tell you?” I grit out between clenched teeth, drawing her closer to me by both elbows, until her body is pressed up against mine, her breath coming in tiny, labored gasps.

But she”s frozen, and I suspect she”s lost her ability to speak, because she stares at me in silence and doesn”t respond, her mouth slightly agape.

She”s scared, but she”s not fucking scared enough.

I want to haul her over my lap. To peel off every layer of clothing like I”m unwrapping a gift. To paint the curves of her ass with my palm until she”s beet red and writhing on my knee, pleading with me to stop. But if I draw her over my lap, she”ll feel how fucking hard I am. She”ll know how much I want her.

I think of every damn time she”s mouthed off to me, snuck around behind my back, told me to fuck off, the way she”s kissed that spineless bastard of a boyfriend, and I make a split second decision to break every goddamned rule. To cross that line between protector and something deeper... more intimate... more erotic.

I sweep my arm across the table and send papers and pens and menus fluttering to the floor, march her to the edge, spin her around, and push her belly over the edge.

”Hey!” she protests, pushing against me, but her efforts are laughably fruitless. With one hand, I overpower her, pressing the small of her back down so she”s helpless to resist me. She knows what I”ve threatened. She knows what has to happen now.

”Don”t!” she tries to order me. ”I”m sorry!”

I ignore the way she pleads, while I gather the skirt of her dress and press her down with pressure on her lower back. I stifle a groan at the sight of the thin strip of fabric she calls panties. If I knew she wore a sheer thong under that dress—

I make myself focus on what needs to happen next. Marissa will learn to obey me.

Without another word, I slam my palm against the full, voluptuous curves of her ass. It feels so damn satisfying to spank her, I do it again.

And again.

And again.

At first, she takes her spanking in stunned silence, the only sound in the room the smack of flesh on flesh, but as I continue her punishment, she whimpers.

I don”t stop. I can”t stop. I”ve wanted to do this so long, the taste of dominating her makes me hunger for so much more. I”m a starving beast who”s longed to taste this, to command and control and overpower.

To chastise.

Correct.

Punish.

”Stop!” she begs, her voice choked with tears. ”Please, Nicolai. I”m sorry.” She”s crying in earnest now, and I don”t want to let on that it affects me. I”m torn. I want to punish her further, until I”ve marked and claimed her, and her body bears witness to the lesson I”ve taught. And the beast in me wants to tear that thong off her and slide my fingers through her swollen folds, expertly working her to orgasm on my hand, on my cock, on my mouth. To make her first lesson indistinguishable between pleasure and pain.

I blink, my hand raised to strike again in mid-air.

I”ve taken this too far. I can”t let myself even think of defiling her innocence.

I have one job, and I have to stay focused.

I remove my hold on her so quickly she nearly falls, the silky black fabric of her dress falls over her flaming red ass like the curtain at a play.

The End.

But I can”t let her first punishment at my hands be in vain. I need to reinforce the lesson. or this has all been pointless. With considerable effort, I lift her shoulders off the table and turn her around to look at me. She casts her eyes down, but not before I notice they”re brimming with tears. Marissa is disgraced.

It”s about fucking time.

Still, I want to hold her. I want to console her. I want her to see how much better it is if she only obeys me.

I give myself just a taste, pulling her to my chest in a chaste hug. At first, she freezes, but when I wrap my arms around her and hug her to my chest, she burrows into me like she”s meant to be there.

Khristos. She fucking is.

At first I think she”s holding her breath, but then I realize she”s trying to stifle her tears, and my resolve to stay stern and corrective dissolves.

”Be a good girl, Marissa,” I say gently, running my hand down the back of her head and holding her face to my chest. ”Don”t make me do that again.”

Her arms are tucked into her, across her breasts, a sub-conscious move of self-protection, but as I run my fingers through her hair, inhaling her sweet scent, she melts into me. To my delight and horror, she lifts her arms to encircle my neck. And hell, they belong there, too, like she was created for this very moment, to fit in my arms just like this.

We can”t do this. We shouldn”t.

I can”t help but hold her around her slim waist. My hands fit just so. Right there. Just like this. Because Marissa belongs to me.

”I just don”t understand,” she sobs. ”Why, Nicolai?”

”Why what?” Does she want to know why I punished her? That”s obvious enough.

”You”re the one who”s supposed to protect me.”

I swallow hard. I am.

”You”re in danger,” I tell her, though I know before I say the words that she won”t believe me.

She shakes her head into my chest. ”But you kidnapped me. You won”t let me call anyone. You gagged me and you just spanked me. Why?”

I harden my heart to her tear-filled supplications.

I could tell her everything I know. And all it would take would be one call to a friend, one text to her boyfriend, one little slip up and we could be found. She would be taken. Abused.

And gone from me forever.

”Trust me, Marissa. Please.”

”How can you ask me to trust you if you won”t trust me?”

It”s a fair question. But before I can respond, I”m vividly aware of how close we are. How my shirt is damp with her tears, how her arms feel around my neck, and how her full breasts are pressed up to my chest.

I release her, but not before grasp her chin and bring her eyes to mine.

We have no time to deliberate. I will not reason with her. I will not beg.

”I will tell you everything when I can, but I expect you to obey me. Do you understand?”

Her eyes cloud briefly and she tries to shake her head, but her chin is still firmly in my grasp.

”Yeah,” she whispers. ”I—yes, sir.”

In the deep south, she was taught to say yes, sir and no, ma”am. I know this. But she”s never called me sir, and always treated me like her peer.

Something”s shifted between us.

Something dangerous.

I release her chin and nod to the bathroom. I take a step back. Denying this intimacy. I have to shut down anything that could happen between us. I fucking have to.

”Get ready for bed,” I say, my voice hard and commanding. Detached.

I ignore the look of betrayal she gives me before she does exactly what I say.

It doesn”t affect me.

It doesn”t.