Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  She swiftly and efficiently examines each of us, and quickly gives us our diagnoses. I don’t need sutures, but she uses a liquid adhesive to fix the gash on my face before she bandages it up and gives me pain medication. Nicolai thankfully only sprained his shoulder. I’m grateful he wasn’t more badly injured.

  “You will return to your room and I want a follow-up appointment with all of you next week,” she orders, adjusting a brace on Nicolai’s arm.

  “I’m fine,” he mutters. “I don’t need this damn thing.”

  “Wear it,” she orders. I blink. I’ve never seen anyone speak to Nicolai with so much authority, and it startles me. Though his jaw tenses and his eyes scare me with their intensity, he growls his agreement.

  One of the men who escorted us here stands at the door, watching everything. Nicolai walks with me, but the man stops him.

  “She’ll come with me,” he says. “You two have a separate room before the induction.”

  Nicolai tenses and looks to me.

  They’re going to separate us? God. Of course they are. What did I think, they were going to give us a hotel room together and let us actually have some privacy?

  “Where are you taking her?” Nicolai demands.

  The other man chuckles. “Grown a bit attached?”

  Nicolai’s jaw clenches and he doesn’t respond,

  “Let her go, brother,” Yakov says in a low voice. “We have to complete our induction first.”

  But Nicolai doesn’t have much of a choice. A second guard takes me by the arms and marches me off with him. I want Nicolai to think I’m okay, that I know this will all work out. So Yakov’s girl and I go along with the guard and I give Nicolai what I hope is an encouraging smile. We were apart for months. We can survive an hour or two.

  The guard takes us down a hallway in silence, and I observe every detail. This place is massive and opulent, with thick, cream-colored carpet, and landscape paintings in gold-edged frames on every wall. We walk and walk, and with every step I take, a sinking feeling in my stomach reminds me that I’m getting further and further from Nicolai. I take in a deep breath. I told him I would trust him, and this is a test of that trust right now.

  He found me once. He’ll do it again.

  We finally stop outside a plain black door. The man who escorted us here removes a key, pushes the door open, then gestures for us to go in. He doesn’t follow.

  “Make yourselves at home,” he says pleasantly. “Someone will bring you dinner soon. But a few things you should know.” His voice grows harder. We look at him in silence. “You do not leave this suite without permission or an escort from one of the Bratva men. You belong to no one, so you belong to all of us. You do not ask questions, and you refer to the authority of the Bratva. Do you understand this?”

  I nod, and so does my companion. Of course. We are still prisoners, whether they lock us in an ivory tower or not.

  But I trust Nicolai. I have to.

  He shuts the door, and the two of us look at one another in awkward silence. We haven’t spoken a word to one another, not in the months of captivity. We weren’t allowed to.

  “Hi,” I begin. “My name is Marissa.”

  She stares with wide, cornflower blue eyes, and nibbles her fingernail, then jerks it out of her mouth. “Yvonne,” she says. “My name is Yvonne.” Then she drops her voice. “I think.”

  Her confusion is a vivid reminder of where we are and what we’ve gone through, and it pains me. She doesn’t even know if this is her name.

  “Is that what your master called you?” I ask. If I stay within familiar lines, I may not startle her.

  She shakes her head and her eyes go even wider. “No,” she whispers. “I was only slave to him.” She wraps her arms around her chest and rocks back and forth. There are so many questions I have for her, so many things I want to say. It’s been so long since I’ve had real companionship from another woman, I don’t want to mess this up, but at the same time, if I push too hard or fast it could frighten her.

  I turn from her, giving her space, and look around the room.

  “Wow,” I breathe.

  There are two adjoined bedrooms that share one large, massive bathroom. The cream-colored carpet is thick and plush, and it feels nice to walk on it as I make my way to the bathroom. I flick on the light, and overhead lighting brightens the room. There’s a large, oval-shaped vanity and marble sink, tiled floors, a massive jacuzzi in the center of the room, and a walk-in shower. Everything gleams beneath the lighting. It’s impeccably clean.

  I open the cabinets and drawers and find every toiletry we could need, as well as full drawers of brand-new cosmetics, hair brushes, and anything I could want to doll myself up. I run my finger along the black edge of a flat iron and look around the room in awe. When I turn around from my perusal of the room in surprise, Yvonne stands in the doorway.

  “This is… surprising to me,” I say.

  “What is?” she asks, stepping into the bathroom and removing a luxurious towel from a shelf.

  “This is… well the rooms are so fancy. It’s like staying at a luxury hotel.” And so, so very different from what we’ve experience for the past few months.

  “Of course it is,” she says, her voice distance and pained. “It’s a luxury suite for whores.”

  I blink. I’m so startled by what she says that at first I don’t respond.

  “What?” I whisper.

  Her pretty eyes look at me with curiosity.

  “What did you think we were brought here for, Marissa? To cook their food?” She laughs, her voice hollow and empty. “They already have staff that do that.”

  I leave the bathroom and go to the second bedroom. There’s a separate entryway door into this room, so both rooms, though adjoined, can be locked off from the other. The second room is decorated in darker colors than the first, in navy and burgundy and gold. The massive bed must be king-sized or greater, the furniture heavy and gleaming. I take in a deep breath and turn to Yvonne.

  “Pick a room,” I tell her.

  She shrugs. “I have no preference. It doesn’t matter anyway.” Her voice is still empty, hollow. The abuse we suffered was horrific, and I wonder if being near Nicolai somehow makes it easier for me to heal. But if we’re to be whores like she says… God.

  I shiver and wrap my arms around my chest.

  “So you don’t mind if I take the first room, then?” I prefer the lighter colors and brighter atmosphere to the darker room.

  “Sure,” she says. She walks into the room, lies on the bed, and stares up at the ceiling. “I like this one.” She sighs. “For now.”

  “Well, alright then,” I tell her, heading back into the bathroom. “I’ll, um, see you later?”

  She’s still staring at the ceiling when she responds. “Later.”

  I shut the door, then shut the bathroom door, too. She seems potentially sweet, but I don’t trust anyone but Nicolai. When I exit the shared bathroom, I lock my door. I’ll have to unlock it to get into the bathroom, but she can’t come back into my room now.

  I walk back into the room and inspect every inch. There’s a bedside table, and when I pull open the drawer I find it empty. There’s a cozy couch in front of a fireplace, and a few soft throw blankets, and tucked in one corner is a tiny kitchenette, with a sink and a mini refrigerator.

  I’m inspecting the closet when I hear someone’s hand on the doorknob. I freeze. Who would come in here? It could be anyone.

  I step out of the closet, my heart hammering in my chest, when the door opens. I breathe out a sigh of relief as Nicolai steps in, shuts and locks the door behind him, then silently comes to me. I take off at a run and meet him halfway, crashing into him.

  We waste no time. His hands are on my face, and mine are at his waist, the moment urgent and hurried. I don’t need him to tell me he shouldn’t be in here, that he’s wanted by the others, and I’m not his for the taking. I moan into his mouth when his lips meet mine. We’ve been through s
o much in such a short time, and we have no idea what happens next. We could be torn apart from one another at any moment.

  His mouth is both hard and soft, his rough whiskers scraping me at the same time the tenderest touch of his lips makes me moan. Gently, his tongue explores my mouth, sending a thrill of pleasure rippling through my core. My skin prickles with awareness, my heart races, but it’s more than physical affection. I held my breath until he came back to me. Now I can breathe again.

  I sink into him and he holds me, lifting me up into his arms and to his chest but not taking his mouth off mine for a minute. I inhale his cleansing, powerful scent, and let my arms roam over his shoulders and back as he holds me. Somehow, feeling his strength and power soothes me, reminding me that I’m his and he will fight to the death for me.

  The room is nearly silent save our breathing, both of us quiet. I don’t want anyone to hear, even Yvonne. I’m vividly aware of how stolen our time together is, how easily we could be discovered. Will I ever be able to speak freely to him?

  Finally, he pulls away, his forehead pressed up to mine. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he draws me onto his lap. “Are you okay?”

  My body has already begun to respond to him, my need to be filled by him and irrevocably tied to him masking everything else I’m feeling. I take his hand and place it at my breast, sighing with deep satisfaction when he cups my breast and grins.

  “I’m fine,” I whisper. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” He breathes in and out, as if the very scent of me somehow brings him life. “I’m better now that I have you again. Are you alone?”

  I shake my head. “This room is attached to a second, and Yvonne is on the other side.”

  “Yvonne?”

  “The blonde woman taken by… your friend.” Are they friends? Another one of the woman brought to the Bratva. He doesn’t speak at first, but kneads my shoulder with his fingers.

  “I have to go soon. We have our induction tonight.” He drops his voice and brings his mouth to my ear. “And we know what that means.”

  We do. He needs to play by the rules if we’re ever going to survive this. I have so many questions I want to ask him, but I don’t want to risk being overheard. Will any of the men recognize him? Have I been brought here to be shared by the others? What if someone knows who he is, and how we know one another?

  I want to escape, I think, my forehead pressed up to his, our breathing mingled, and I almost think he hears me, for he takes my hand and squeezes it. Holding me to his chest, he presses my hand to his heart.

  “This heart beats for you,” he whispers. “And only you. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that.”

  “Come back to me tonight?” I whisper. The hope of a secret rendezvous, just the two of us, makes my heart sing with joy.

  “I’ll come back to you,” he promises. But he doesn’t say when.

  I mouth, “I love you.”

  He gives me a sad smile before mouthing back, “And I love you.”

  “I have to go,” he repeats. “But I’ll be back.”

  I whisper in his ear. “And I’ll be waiting.”

  We make promises to one another we have no idea if we can keep.

  Chapter 18

  Nicolai

  I exit the hallway, trying to get my bearings. I’m still learning the layout of this new facility, and I’m not allowed much freedom until I’m formally inducted. Yakov meets me in the hall, his eyes tight, his jaw clenched.

  “She’s in there,” I tell him. “Just on the other side of the door.”

  He shakes his head. “And why go to her?” he scoffs. “So I can share her cunt with the rest of the brotherhood?” But his protest holds a bitter note I don’t miss, and speaks of the same fears I have.

  I shrug. “You don’t know what they’ll demand.”

  Yakov sighs and falls into step beside me as we head to the exit. “But we do.”

  “We have an idea,” I tell him. “We’ve been told to bring a tribute, and we’ve followed every instruction so far.”

  Even though I hardly know this man, having been through what we have already together makes me feel a sort of kinship, and the same is with Erik even if he is a bastard.

  “Yeah,” he says, rubbing a hand across his brow. “Right. Let’s go see the asshole before we go to the meeting.”

  “Where is he?” I don’t need to ask him who he’s talking about.

  “Thought he was still in the infirmary,” he says. We walk to where we left Erik, only to find he’s gone, and we have no more time to look now. We head back to where we were instructed to meet for our induction, a private room hidden behind a large dining room and a kitchen. We take a staircase that leads us upstairs, and as we ascend, the sound of voices gets louder and louder.

  I’m shocked at the number of people here. There must be three or four dozen men filling this large space, each one of them marked with Bratva ink. It’s too dark in here to see more than a sea of faces. We enter the room and head to Tomas, who sits at the head of a long mahogany table.

  “Welcome,” he says with a stern nod. “Sit.”

  We sit, and when Tomas does, the rest of the room follows. They wait in silence for him. There’s an air of anticipation in here.

  “You two have done well,” he says. I focus on Tomas, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. The less they know about who I am, the lesser the chance there is of anyone identifying me. “The third…” his voice trails off and he shrugs. “We will see.”

  I share a look with Yakov. Erik may not be inducted in as we suspected. Will he retaliate if he isn’t?

  “You’ve brought us the virgins requested. Difficult to acquire, but you followed instructions.”

  He points a remote to a large, flat panel on the wall to his right, and they light up. I sit up straighter. He’s turned on direct footage to the rooms where Marissa and Yvonne have been placed.

  Of course they have hidden cameras in there.

  “This one is exquisite,” he says, zooming in to show Marissa, propped up on her bed, a book in hand. I hold my breath. I don’t like that she’s on display for all these motherfuckers to see. The threat of him playing footage of my visit to her is real, but it isn’t my only focus. I hate the thought of anyone in here looking at her with anything more than brotherly affection. Yakov’s bitter reminder that these two are here to share doesn’t help.

  “Brothers, welcome our new recruits.”

  Cheers and greetings erupt in the small room, some in English and others in Russian. I wonder what the induction ceremony is like in this brotherhood. Some are brutal, demanding new recruits be subjected to vicious acts of violence to test their mettle. Others will not allow entry without blood relatives or marriage, and still others are hand-chosen by their pakhan.

  I’ve met every requirement they’ve demanded so far, and if I can meet what they demand next, I ensure that the steps I need to take to make Marissa safe are that much closer.

  “Tell us a little bit about yourselves.”

  Fuck.

  I was not expecting this. I school my features and remain seated upright, reminding myself of who I’m supposed to be. I can’t betray any of the facts that will lead them to believe I came from the Atlanta Bratva. I hardly listen to Yakov give his introduction, until I realize the room has grown silent, and they’re waiting for me.

  “Aleks Ambramov,” I state out loud. “I’m twenty-nine years old, former Russian military.”

  “Which branch?” Tomas asks me, his eyes boring into mine as if probing for truth.

  “Spetsnaz,” I tell him. That much is true. The room buzzes with a murmur of approval, and I sit up straighter. Most respect Russian special forces because of our rigorous training and defense of mother Russia. Tomas smiles at me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen his stern facade crack. The smile is genuine, reaching his eyes, when he says “Lyubaya missiya, v lyuboye vremya, v lyubom meste.”

  Any mission, any time, any pl
ace. It’s the Spetsnaz motto, one I used to have written across my back. Was he Spetsnaz, too?

  “You, too?” I ask.

  He nods and fist bumps me across the table. “Welcome, brother.”

  Hope rises in me. This might be easier than I feared, if I have a friend in the pakhan.

  “And why did you serve time?”

  My jaw clenches. I don’t like lying about this. “Racketeering. Extortion. Theft.” And the reality is, I’ve done several of those things. I’m not proud of it, but the Bratva gains power and control by illicit means, and I’ve always been dedicated to the success and advancement of my brotherhood.

  Tomas nods slowly, and faces the group. “I think these two would serve us well. What do you think?”

  The room erupts in cheers. Yakov meets my eyes and gives me a grim smile. We both know it isn’t that easy. Over Yakov’s shoulder, someone gets to his feet, his eyes wide, and he takes a step toward us. I freeze. Fuck. Does he recognize me? He opens his mouth as if to say something, but Tomas is holding his hand up for attention. I turn away so the man looking at me doesn’t meet my eyes, so he doesn’t find anything identifying at all, but my pulse gallops in my veins. If someone in this group knows me, I’m fucked.

  The cheers die down, and Tomas sobers. “But I’d like you to prove yourselves with one final task.”

  I draw in a breath and hold his gaze.

  “You’ve brought the virgins here. You’ve paid the price. And I suspect you both would like to keep those women as your own. Am I correct?”

  I can’t breathe, like someone’s wrapped a band around my chest and pulled.

  “Absolutely,” I manage to choke out, trying to act as if this is just a casual conversation and my entire life doesn’t hang in the balance.

  Yakov’s grown still. “Without a doubt.”

  Tomas nods benevolently. “And I’d like to be able to grant that to you.” His gaze softens for a moment. “Some of our most powerful leaders were joined with women who supported them. And I believe you have the power to benefit our brotherhood tremendously.”

  Khristos, yes.

  I nod, swallowing hard. He hasn’t stated his final demand yet.