10. Mila

10

MILA

I woke to a throbbing ache in my head. As I gingerly brought my fingers to probe at the tender spot on my brow, I felt the mussed tangles of my hair. Then the ache of an injury in my arm.

What—

Memories streamed back to me, reminding me of the hell that had happened at the church. The tight pressure on my skin came from the tightly wound gauze that pressed against my split-open flesh.

I had been shot. I was kidnapped. My wedding…

A man spoke on the phone, and I twisted on the bed to watch his tall, powerful body pace across the simple room.

I was still so weak—dehydrated, famished, and sleep-deprived on top of the stress—but I was instantly alert at the realization that he wasn't a figment of my imagination.

Aleksei Valkov. The hotheaded man my libido had awakened to at the S.T.L. offices. Then the devil who'd barreled his way into my wedding, guns blazing, to steal me away.

I ground my teeth together, letting the ache of my jaw's tension add to the dull throb in my head. Through slitted eyes, I tracked his steady strides.

That asshole! Just coming in and… taking me like that!

"I welcome war. That's what we need before anyone can ruin our family."

His words sent shock and outrage slithering down my spine. War? He could do whatever he damn well pleased, but I didn't want to be caught in the middle of it.

Fury enveloped me. My muscles trembled with the strain of fisting my hands. The urge to launch at him and attack filled me as he disconnected his call and stalked toward me. He was predatory, striding toward me with so much masculine dominance, such sure confidence that he had me right where he wanted me.

Which is not at my wedding.

I didn't flinch, keeping my lips pressed together tightly as he advanced toward me. I wouldn't show him fear. I hadn't in the office and I wouldn't here. Wherever here was. Without lowering my guard or changing my expression, I tore my focus off him and scanned the room.

Sparse décor adorned the studio. Calling it an apartment seemed like a reach. At the bare minimum, this place could be inhabited, but it didn't resemble a well-lived-in home. A simple kitchenette faced me from the opposite wall, and the only other interior door led to a bathroom. The shower stall was visible from where I sat on this bed, but what gripped me the most was the bloody washcloth hanging from the rim of the tub.

He cleaned my wound. That gauze hadn't wrapped around my arm on its own. Alek must have done that too. His… care should've been touching. I should've felt better that he was motivated to see to my injury. But he'd caused it. Perhaps he hadn't shot me himself, but he'd instigated the situation where I was caught in gunfire.

No one else was here. It was only me and him, and I didn't know how this private isolation would fare for me.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded as he stood near the bed.

He didn't reply, simply staring down at me like he wasn't sure what to do. All the power was in his hands. It wasn't just this submissive position, me seated on the bed and wounded. His presence screamed authority, but I didn't find comfort in it.

"I shouldn't be here."

He huffed, and I couldn't tell whether that was a sound of agreement or dark amusement. I risked a glance around him, wondering if I could run. That door would lead to my freedom, but I had no means to outrun him or escape his grasp. Looming over me like this, he damn well caged me in place.

"Did you hear me? I shouldn't be here. You've got no right bringing me here."

He shrugged.

I fumed, pissed off even more that he couldn't reply. He was just like all the other men I'd ever met in my life, in charge and never feeling the need to answer to a woman.

I refused to cave and let him see how much this silent treatment wore on me. I was tired. I was scared deep down, but most of all, my nerves were frayed beyond repair with this constant battery of stress.

"You need to take me back."

He huffed. "To your wedding?" His lips curled in a devilish smirk.

I doubted the church was left in any state to resume that ceremony. "To my father." Sitting up straighter, I tried to show how confident I was behind my words. "You're a dead man walking, capturing me at my wedding like that."

His shoulder shifted a bit in an indifferent shrug. "We're all one day closer to death anyway."

Morbid. I refused to let his devil-may-care attitude get to me. "I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you."

"Likewise." He paired that parroted reply with a long, lazy, and appreciative stare over me. From my cleavage to my eyes, he looked his fill, smiling that sinister smile of pure arrogance. I struggled to banish the thought that he was the predator closing in on his prey—me.

He didn't glance away. His hot, lustful focus remained on me. The longer he looked, the less he spoke. The air grew heavier and taut with this sparking pulse of awareness. It was stupid, but instinct kicked in. I wanted to know what he thought of what he saw, to know what he was even searching for. All I could guess was that his seductive expression wouldn't bode well for me. I grew uneasy, so openly studied like this by his intense eyes.

"Then you'd better take me back right now," I snapped, riled up from his gaze on me.

"Oh, I'd better, huh?" He smirked, stepping closer.

I fought not to tense up. I wouldn't show him fear or… anything else. This closer proximity pushed me to lash out again, at least verbally.

"He'll kill you. My father's men will not let this go. No corner of the city will keep you safe."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm warning you, you'd better?—"

He lifted his hand and snapped. Like I was a goddamn dog. "Shut up."

"No. You can't tell me to shut up and expect me to listen."

In a swift dip, he lowered toward me. Setting his hands on the bed, he forced me to retreat and lean backward, caged in by his thick arms, his fists on either side of my thighs. Breathing hard, I stared up at him and tensed. That pulse of awareness increased, and I damn near panted this close to his firm lips.

"Shut. Up." He tracked his dark stare from my eyes to my lips.

I tilted my head to the side and smirked. "No." As a matter of fact, a good scream was well past due. If anyone waited nearby, they'd hear me. I had to try. I sucked in a deep breath, preparing to give it my all.

"You'd better?—"

He lunged forward, silencing my threat. His lips slammed over mine. With them already parted, he had full access to invade and plunder. His hot tongue speared in to duel with mine, and as he leaned down, pushing me, he dominated my first kiss.

I'd read about it in those old romance novels others left lying around. I'd seen movies. I understood the dynamics of kissing, but under Alek's rough touch, his hungry lips, I felt like an ignorant fool, glad to learn how this actually worked.

He brushed his lips over mine in a hard sweep, and the rub only enticed me to want it again. I gasped, reaching up to chase the thrill of his mouth on mine, his tongue tasting me, his hot breaths mixed with mine.

This brute was my enemy. He'd kidnapped me. He'd crashed my wedding and happily caused war.

But none of that could matter. Not one of those facts entered my mind as I succumbed to his addictive, spicy taste. I didn't think about anything but the seductive pull of wanting more. A harder kiss. A longer sample. I moaned, overwhelmed with this eagerness to pull him down and never let go.

He loomed so big and powerful, masculine and larger than life. With this kiss, he demanded that I try to match him. He growled and lifted his hand to hold the back of my head. His fingers slipped through my hair, and with his punishing grip, he angled me right where he wanted me as he kissed me silent.

I'd never experienced this consuming desire, lit to flaming within seconds. Even as it rocked me to my core, a thread of common sense prevailed. In a fit of reclaiming my mind and ignoring how he made me feel, I bit his lip.

He parted, hissing then licking the bite mark I'd given him. Through narrowed eyes, he glared at me, darker and angrier than before since I'd retaliated.

My God. What am I doing? As I panted and glowered right back at him, I warred with wanting his lips back where they were. Mine were moist, cooling in the air, and I slammed them shut and scowled. "How dare you take what's not yours!"

His reply wasn't what I expected. He arched one brow, giving me a dark look. If I could try to guess and read his mind, he was wondering if he should take me. He confirmed it with just as many filthy, smug words. "I've got you here. Why not?"

My nipples beaded and my pussy clenched. Just the mere idea of this man taking me however he pleased… It turned me on. He didn't retreat, nor did he lunge forward. Licking his lip and studying me with so much heat, he paused.

He didn't look at me like Geoff had. Andrey's lewd glances weren't like Alek's smoldering gaze of pure seduction. Alek regarded me like I was a woman he craved, and it was a heady sensation to manage.

Me. This rugged, sexy man wanted me .

"Why not?" I snapped. There were so many reasons. At the top of that list was the fact that I wasn't his. I wasn't Alek's woman to have. But nowhere in my mind did I cling to the argument that I didn't want him.

Because against everything warning me otherwise, I did.

"Because I'm not worth it."

His eyebrows dipped in a harsh slant as he focused on me. "What do you mean?"

Still, he caged me, his strong arms bracketing me to the bed, but he'd lost some of that seductive air. I'd distracted him with my words, and that was exactly what I needed. I should be distracting him so I could evade him and run.

"You could find something better than this." I gestured my trembling hand at my body. I didn't fear him. Not out of a worry of physical pain. So far, he wanted to keep me alive and well. But I'd never played a game like this before, a twist of words and flirty advances.

"You could find a skinnier woman. Someone prettier." I said it to reject him, to dissuade him, but the words came so easily. I'd spent all my life hearing that kind of criticism from my father. It wasn't hard to claim that I was less than.

"Why would I want that?" He trailed his hand from the back of my head down along my neck. Every touch of the back of his knuckles over my flesh felt like a delicate caress that lit me up inside, feather-light and too tender. He dragged my focus from his face as I watched him trace his fingers along the neckline of my dress.

Mere inches were left between his fingers and my breasts. Just seeing him this close and almost to my nipples threw me off balance. My breath hitched, and I froze, watching and wishing he'd push the fabric down.

"Skinnier?" he retorted sarcastically. He stroked his fingers over the side of my breast, teasing me with that faint contact. "No. Skin and bones don't appeal."

I gulped, stuck between the urge to reach up and kiss him and breathing quickly enough.

"Prettier?" He growled softly, leaning in to nuzzle the side of my face. From my jaw to my ear, he dragged his nose and inhaled deeply. His lips brushed up my cheek with the motion, and I closed my eyes at the tickle of what he promised.

"Fuck pretty." He kissed just below my ear. "You're gorgeous ."

I shivered.

He brought his hand back up to trace along my neckline. "Sexy," he added, kissing that sensitive spot beneath my ear again.

One fingertip edged beneath the fabric of my dress, and I let out a whine of need.

"And right now, you're mine to do whatever I want with."

Fuck that! His dominant touch was frying my senses, but hearing his cocky claim jolted me. I reared back. "Fuck off." As I tried to take advantage of the distraction, I leaned to the side. I didn't slip away far. He was too quick. He hadn't lowered his guard, not at all, it seemed. His thick arm wrapped around my waist as he hauled me back to the bed.

Unlike the scene at the church, I could fight back here. I flailed and wrestled, punching and kicking for all I had. In the end, after the short scrimmage, he proved he was stronger, faster, and more determined.

Rope dug into my wrists with the bindings he'd strung there. Over my mouth rested a slim strip of fabric he'd ripped from my wedding dress. Ribbons weren't supposed to be gags, but Alek was resourceful enough to use whatever was on hand.

Tied to the bed frame, muted with a gag, I fumed and glared at him, praying he could see the hatred in my eyes. If he did, he didn't show it. Instead, as I screamed my frustration in my mind, he stood and brushed off his shirt, fixing himself from the scuffle.

"You're not going anywhere, Mila. The faster you come to terms with that, the better."

Another man telling me what to do. I was sick of it. And I vowed to never obey a single damn thing he said.