14. Alena

In all his mouthwateringly handsome glory, Kristof approaches the bed with a tray in hand, and my mind stutters to a stop.

I'm in Kristof's house? Last night wasn't a dream?

Dressed in dark blue jeans and a charcoal silk shirt that's half open, giving me a full glimpse of the dark ink that swirls across his chest, memories from last night roar to the forefront of my mind. Everything becomes so clear so quickly that it's almost painful. I can only gape at him.

I did sleep with him.

He threw me down and fucked me in that club, like some kind of savage animal, and I drank up every second of it. His touch, his warmth, the raw power that poured from him. From the club to the limo, he was all over me, and I was utterly enthralled by every single touch.

He took my virginity in that room too. It was exciting and scary, painful and exhilarating, the most divine sensation I've ever experienced.

But now I'm here?

Connecting the dots is a struggle, and I pull slightly at my bonds while he sets the silver tray down on the nightstand next to the glass of water. There's a granola bar, some orange juice, and two white pills sitting in a small porcelain dish.

I turn my gaze up to him, studying his handsome face, his well-kept goatee, and the steel grey of his thick hair. Suddenly, irritation swells in my chest, replacing the fear.

"What the hell?" I snap, pulling at the ropes to emphasize my point. "What is going on? Why am I tied to the bed?"

Kristof chuckles dryly and moves slowly around the bed. His silence only irritates me more.

"Why am I naked? Why am I here? Where's Katja? What did you do to her?"

Kristof stops at the foot of the bed and fixes me with a steady stare, then he grasps the bottom of the sheet and jerks it away from the bed. I squeal as my naked body is suddenly on display and a hot, full-body blush flushes through me from head to toe. Reflex has me trying to roll and cover myself up, but the ropes prevent me. I'm trapped, fully on display for Kristof as he slowly starts to fold the sheet up.

This is some kind of twisted dream. It has to be.

"Answer me!" I demand, but my voice quavers and I swallow hard, ignoring the burn.

"It's simple," Kristof says. He moves slowly and methodically as he folds the ends together and smoothes out the creases. "You belong to me now."

Deep down, I've yearned for those words more than I will ever admit, but this situation is far beyond my wildest dreams. My gaze flickers down to my body, and my pale skin is lit up with marks and rising bruises. He did this. He's marked me like the ink that covers his own skin.

"I don't understand," I whisper.

"Katja is fine. She is safe. Ivan took her home from the club last night, and we did everything in our power to ensure she got back into the Estate without raising the alarm. But…" He pauses to press the last fold into the sheet, and my heart leaps. "She will be killed if she breathes a word of last night to anyone. About you. About the club. About me. Any of it. She opens her mouth, and I cannot guarantee her survival."

"What?"

He can't be serious. And yet, as he sets the folded sheet on the side of the bed, it strikes me just how much trouble she will be in. My father is not a forgiving man at the best of times, but if he finds out what we did, then she'd be in terrible trouble. Just as I reason that he won't kill her because I'm fine, something clicks in my mind.

I am fine, but no one knows that, do they?

Kristof straightens up and clasps his hands together, steepling his fingers, and my heart skips a beat.

I'm tied to a bed in a room I can only assume is in Kristof's house.

He didn't take me home.

"Are you… kidnapping me? Are you turning against my father?"

"What an ugly word." Kristof scoffs sharply. "I have not turned against your father. My loyalty to the Orlova family remains the same, and it will not waver."

It's an answer, but it's not the right answer. It doesn't soothe the most important concern that rises inside me as his gaze lingers on my naked body. Shyness steals across me, and I still want to hide from his gaze, even as memory proves he's seen everything I have to offer. He doesn't deny the kidnapping.

Sense tells me I should be angry. Furious and disgusted, even, because what kind of man fucks a woman and then locks her away?

Sense fails me, though, and as Kristof moves around the bed and takes a seat next to me, a pulse of alarm flashes through my body. Curiosity begins to rise because never in my wildest dreams did I think Kristof would actually have a deep enough interest. As much as I clung to our kiss, I half-reasoned that it was out of pity.

"You haven't answered my questions," I say hoarsely, staring up at him. "Why am I naked? Why am I tied up? You are kidnap?—"

He pulls the tray closer, and the sight of the pills clams up my throat, killing my words.

Panic surges suddenly, hot like the press of an iron brand, and I jerk as far away from him as the ropes will allow.

"No, no, wait. You don't have to drug me, okay? I mean, I would stay here willingly if you'd just fucking asked me, you know that? If you had come to me like a normal person and asked me, I would have been all over this, but please, you don't have to drug me!"

It's a half-truth. If Kristof had come to my room and offered to steal me away, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I need to be awake. I need to be present and aware because the only thing that scares me more than being immobilized is being drugged up.

Kristof, to my surprise, laughs and picks up the pills.

"Alena, stop being so dramatic. They're painkillers. You're hungover, aren't you?"

Oh.

I pause, and my mouth hangs open slightly.

Right. Makes sense, actually, and I'll gladly accept anything to dull the throb in my skill.

"I—yeah. How did you know?"

"Last night was your first time drinking. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to work out what you"re feeling."

Oh.

The prickling flush of embarrassment weaves through me, and I nod. Kristof picks up the pills and holds one aloft.

"Open."

I obey immediately, and he sets it onto my tongue. Then he cups the back of my head and guides me up just enough to take a mouthful of orange juice through the straw. He repeats this with the second pill and then lets me rest back. The sweet tartness of the orange juice and the chill of the liquid have me craving more immediately, and I wet my lips as the juice soothes the cotton in my throat.

"I mean it, though," I say after a moment, flexing my fingers. "I would have come if you asked."

"Are you sure about that?" Kristof asks calmly.

"Yes! So… Can you untie me?"

"No."

"Why?" I pull sharply at the ropes. "I mean it. You won't say the word kidnap, but you've brought me here against my will and I still don't understand why. But if you wanted me with you, I would have come willingly. Can't you just untie me, and we can talk?"

"We are talking." Kristof stands and returns to the foot of the bed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The sight of his thick arms bulging and his tattooed pecs bunching slightly under his shirt thrills me in an unexpected way.

I'm so fucked up.

"But we could talk better?—"

"No," he snaps, and I flinch, my heart skipping up to the hollow of my throat.

"Why?"

"Alena…" His brow pinches together, and his lips press in a firm line. "I don't believe you and I don't trust you yet. Too long, I have scraped by for your father. Too long, I've put my neck on the line, and yet it was worth it because ever since our kiss last year, I haven't been able to breathe properly. You consume me in such a way that I can't exist without seeing you, and life has dragged me from you again and again. So when I saw my chance to take you, to keep you safe in a place where I can look at you whenever I need to breathe, I took it. Now, I'm no longer on a leash that tightens at the mention of fucking Mikhail. Now you are mine, and you will stay here for as long as I want to use you."

His voice trembles slightly at the end, and a pull of want ripples through my body. He speaks like a man possessed, and never has someone spoken about me with such worth. It causes a sting of emotion to crawl up my throat and warmth to flood behind my eyes.

It's like a dream.

"You can trust me, though," I insist as my mind floods with possibilities. He wants me, and I've wanted him for so long I've lost count. "I hate it there. I hate being a prisoner where my only worth is being sold off to further the Family. Where Mara looks at me like I'm something she brought in on her shoe, and she's so cold. Where my father floods me with gifts and love that's just to make up for the neglect that exists around actually getting to know me. You— you're the only one who's ever shown me real care and affection, and I've craved you ever since that kiss. Surely, last night shows I want you as much as you want me. You don't need to keep me here like this. You don't, I swear!"

Unfortunately, Kristof merely smirks. "Nice try."

Frustration builds. There's no trust or belief in his eyes, and he taps the fingers of one hand against his opposite forearm.

Does he think I'm trying to trick him? That I'm just saying this to get free? Static floods my chest as Kristof shakes his head and it takes all my effort not to pout. It's not until I pull hard on my ropes once more that I realize the ache in my skull has faded. Those painkillers are good.

"Nice try?"

"You think all I need is words, and I'll let you go?"

"I'm not asking to leave, didn't you hear me? I want to be here!"

Kristof chuckles darkly. "We'll see about that."

"You're just like all the rest," I snap before I can stop myself. Somehow, this is perfect and not perfect at the same time. In my dreams, Kristof never doubted my sincerity, but here, it's like he expects me to trick him.

"All the rest?" Kristof's brow dips sharply.

"You refuse to see what's right in front of you, too caught up in what you think is right."

"Trust is earned," he repeats. "I hear you, but time will tell whether you're telling the truth."

"Trust is a two-way street," I bite back. "Why should I believe that you aren't going to kill me and cut me into itty-bitty pieces to hurt my father? Or leave me here to rot, hmm? You already fucked me, and I begged for more, so how more trustworthy can I be?"

"Well…" Kristof snorts and leans forward, one rough palm sliding over my calf and sending a flurry of tingling excitement to my core. "You're even brattier without alcohol, aren't you?"

"So what?" I snap, my cheeks heating up.

"Taming brats is my specialty."