Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  “Earn them,” he says, his voice hard, his eyes flinty. “You two will interrogate the man you captured today. Find out who he is and why we attacked. Get answers from him, and you can keep the women you brought as your own.”

  Yakov nods and gets to his feet, already ready. “Understood.”

  I rise more slowly. I’ve interrogated men before. Some will cave and some will let you kill them before they speak a word. It isn’t a fair contingency.

  “And if we don’t?” I ask him.

  Tomas shrugs. “Then the women will be ours to share and I’ll have to give you another task.”

  I’m grateful I’m not doing this alone. Yakov is fierce but human. Such a task with a ruthless killer might go easier, but at what cost? I get to my feet with Yakov. The man behind Tomas is gone. I face Tomas.

  “Where is he?”

  Chapter 19

  Marissa

  It is late into the wee hours of the morning before I hear someone at my door. I’ve almost given up hope that Nicolai will come to me tonight, and I think I may have dozed off. I don’t know what time it is, but the entire compound is silent. I sit up. Every time someone comes in, I hope it’s Nicolai.

  Earlier, it was a servant or something, bearing a tray of food. The food was delicious, and served with a large glass of white wine. I ate everything eagerly and drank every drop of wine. An hour later, someone came to clear the tray, and shortly after that, a doctor came to pay me a visit. Finally, around ten o’clock, the visitors died down. I’ve been waiting for Nicolai ever since.

  I know it’s him before I see him. My heartbeat quickens, and something in me springs to life. He’s here. My throat tightens.

  He’s here.

  The door opens then closes again, and footsteps approach.

  “Zvezda moya. Are you awake?” Though he keeps his voice down, the deep resonance vibrates through the room.

  “I am.” I reach out to him without even realizing I am.

  After shutting the door behind him, he walks to me in three swift steps, sits on the edge of the bed, and draws me to his chest as if he’s drowning and I’m his life preserver. He holds me so tightly it hurts.

  Something is wrong.

  I reach a hand to his cheek. “Are you okay?” I whisper. “You’re trembling.”

  He laughs, but it’s mirthless. “I’m not,” he says. “Men don’t tremble.”

  But it’s a lie. He is, and he does, the gentlest betrayal of fear or something else that makes him shake. I come up on my knees and wrap my arms around him. Though he’s so much bigger than I am, I am the one holding him tonight.

  I don’t ask any more questions right now. He will tell me if he wants to, and I can’t force that. I don’t want to. Just being here with him is enough. A few minutes pass while the two of us just hold one another, not speaking or moving until he breaks the silence.

  “We don’t have to hide anymore,” he says. “Not from the brotherhood, anyway.”

  I pull away and look into his deep blue eyes. “What?”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s sad. “Yes, zvezda moya. The pakhan gave me leave to come to you, and he’s told the others that you belong to me.”

  My heart sings. I can hardly believe our change of fortune. I give a little squeal of delight, but when he doesn’t share my elation, I deflate a little.

  “Nicolai…” my voice trails off. I press my hand to his chest, absorbing his heartbeat. “What is it? Tell me.”

  I don’t need to say any more than that. He knows what I’m referring to.

  He draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding before he lets it out slowly.

  “I shouldn’t tell you this,” he begins. I say nothing, I know that this is only a prelude. He will tell me, even if he isn’t supposed to. I need to respect the space he needs to tell me. In the next breath, his voice both drops and hardens to a husky growl.

  “We killed a man tonight.”

  I’m not ignorant to the ways of the Bratva. But even though I’ve seen terrible, brutal things happen before my own eyes, hearing him state what he did sends ice pulsing through my veins.

  “Who did?”

  He swallows, then takes my hand and kisses my fingers to his lips. “Me and Yakov.”

  My stomach drops to the floor, a gnawing ache that I can’t push away. I close my eyes and absorb the pain of this revelation.

  “The new recruits,” I whisper. “But not the other man?”

  He shakes his head. “He’s gone. No one knows where. He can hardly walk, and he did not attend the meeting.”

  I shake my head. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand all of this.

  “But you two… who did you kill?”

  “The man who attacked us,” he says. “We were told if we interrogated him to find out who hired him, we would be able to keep the women we bought.”

  So Yvonne belongs to Yakov now and I to Nicolai, but at the cost of murder.

  This is the vicious, brutal world of Bratva life. I want to take him away from all of this, to a simple life where one doesn’t demand blood in exchange for another human. He swears allegiance to his current pakhan, and the demands the man makes on him might be inhumane or vile, but he must obey.

  “That’s a terrible price to pay,” I say, my voice choked with emotion. “But it would be a lie if I said I wish you hadn’t paid it, because… well, because I don’t wish that.” I hold his hand to my heart. My nose tingles, and one lone tear rolls down my cheek. “Because I love that we can be together, at least for now.”

  “At least for now?” he growls, then he’s spinning me out and laying me down, pinning my wrists above my head. My pulse races and my body begins to heat under his dominant, possessive touch. “For fucking ever. I’ll kill anyone who comes between us. Do you hear me?” His voice becomes an animalistic growl, tight with anger and remorse. “I will kill them.”

  Hell, he already has.

  “I’ll sell my soul to the fucking devil, Marissa,” he says, before he crashes his mouth on mine, capturing my lips and demanding I yield to him. He needs this brutal, savage taking. He’s earned me tonight, and he’s come to collect.

  He tears off what little clothing I wear, the fabric rending into pieces he tosses to the floor. I submit fully to him, letting him kiss me and fondle my breasts, welcoming his touch and claiming. His tongue plunders my mouth, his hand so hard at my breast I cry out in pain when he tugs and twists one nipple.

  “Sell my fucking soul,” he repeats, kissing my neck and sucking my flesh into his mouth, between his lips, so hard pulses of electricity race through my core even as my pulse spikes. It hurts so fucking good I’m moaning beneath him.

  He pulls my nipple into his mouth and bites, his teeth cutting into the tender flesh. I arch my back and stifle a scream, whimpering when he laps the place he just assaulted. Soft, slow, torturous strokes of his tongue make my insides turn to liquid lava. I’m squirming beneath him, the pressure building between my thighs, when he releases my nipple and strips.

  “Fucking gorgeous,” he growls, returning to work my nipples with delicious, savage licks and bites, his mouth working my breasts until I’m practically begging for release.

  “Oh, God,” I moan. “Oh God, oh God.”

  He crashes his hand down on my thigh, which momentarily stuns, then arouses me. “Be quiet,” he snaps. “Nothing above a whisper. You may be mine, but there are still dangers we need to face.”

  I close my mouth, becoming utterly silent in obedience. I remember being taken over his knee and spanked. This brutal man who killed for me will stop at nothing to make me his.

  He kneels above me, and I watch him remove his shirt and jacket, followed by his pants, He pushes his slacks down off his legs, and his huge erection springs up. He’s so damn turned on, I squirm myself just seeing him. When he’s fully naked, he lowers himself to me and grabs my wrists again, pinning them above me.

  I yield to him because this is what he n
eeds right now. To master and control. Maybe this is what he’ll always need, and it will be my pleasure to give it to him, to submit to his dominance and let him master me, to be the soft place he lands when his world devolves into jagged edges.

  Leaning his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “You do exactly what I say, Marissa, or I’ll punish you.” My breath hitches, and he notes this with a curious smile. “Or is that what you want?”

  I bite my lip and shake my head, and he smiles a little broader this time, the smile almost reaching his eyes. Bracing himself on one elbow, he slides his hand down my body to my pussy, cupping my mound. I arch into him, needing more pressure, but keep my arms right where he put them.

  “That’s right, little girl,” he says when I push myself against him. “Just like that. Do you want me to touch you here?”

  I nod and whimper, but he still only cups me, his palm pressing against my throbbing body.

  “Beg me.”

  “Please, Nicolai. Please, sir,” I whisper, without a second thought. He commands and I surrender.

  “Please what?”

  “P-please touch me,” I whimper.

  “Like this?” he asks, dragging his fingers through my folds. “Like that, my love?” I nearly cry with relief when he finally touches me.

  “Yes,” I say on a dry sob. Slowly, he lowers his mouth to my nipple, holding my gaze with his, as he gently strokes between my legs. “Relax, Marissa,” he says. “Just relax.”

  I close my eyes and sink into this moment while his tongue returns to my breast and his fingers work magic on me. I’m getting closer to losing control, but I know he commands this.

  “I’m going to come,” I whisper.

  “Wait.” he says.

  I bite my lip with the effort of holding on, of not coming out of my skin and flying into orgasm.

  He moves his hand from my pussy and comes back to my wrists, pushing them above my head and holding them there. “You’ll come with me,” he whispers in my ear. “Together. As one. But I want to take you from behind. Get on your knees, chest down.”

  I scramble on all fours and tangle the sheets in my fist to anchor myself to them. I spread my legs in welcome, aching for release and his fullness inside me. He lines his cock up at my entrance and gently glides the head through my slickness once, twice, three times before he eases himself in me. With him behind me I feel fuller, tighter, and my body thrills at the intensity.

  “Fuck,” he growls. “Jesus fuck. So wet. So fucking tight. God, Marissa.” He groans when he moves in me, building friction that borders on ecstasy, my body coming alive with every move. I welcome every thrust. He holds my hips, his large hands bruising the flesh with his brutal grip, before giving me a swift smack to my ass. It only makes me hotter, wetter, more needy. He’s never taken me like this, brutal and savage and unfettered. But he needs this, and so do I.

  “Stay in that position,” he orders, pushing my hands to where he wants them. “Hold yourself while I take you.”

  As I brace myself, he slams into me again. I fight to hold my position, and another hard spank reminds me what’s in store if I don’t. Again and again, he lifts and thrusts, pulling out just long enough to make me ache for him, then filling me again with his swollen cock.

  “Nicolai,” I groan. “Oh, God, I love this.” I’m so full, so turned on, so ready to come, when he grabs my hair, tangles it in his fingers, and yanks my head back.

  “Do you, baby? You love this,” he repeats. It’s so raw and primal as he slams into me, the ache quickly drowns in delicious pleasure. “Tell me when you’re going to come. Say sir. And don’t you dare come until I say.”

  Another hard thrust sends me right to the edge. I hold on, wanting to obey him.

  “Marissa,” he warns. “If you come without permission, I’ll take my belt to you.”

  “That’s twice you’ve threatened that,” I say, emboldened by our positions like this. It scares me to think about being whipped by him, but I work myself to climax at the mere thought.

  “I’ll remember you said that.”

  Another searing spank has me squirming. I’m going to come.

  “Sir,” I whisper. I’m on the edge, and I don’t want to disobey. “Sir!”

  “Come,” he says in my ear, and it’s all the permission I need. I let myself go and soar into bliss while he comes, his hot seed lashing into me. I close my eyes and can’t breathe, so consumed with waves of ecstasy. I’m so close to him. United in pleasure. Joined as lovers.

  “Fuck,” he says, still pumping into me. “Jesus fuck.”

  I sink onto the bed, drunk with pleasure and exhausted. He falls beside me and pulls me onto his chest.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  “And I love you.”

  We lay together, sweat-slicked skin and tangled limbs and sheets all around us.

  “I needed that,” he admits, while he tucks me beneath his chin on his chest. I hear the smile in his voice. “Am I still trembling?”

  I wrap my arms around me. “No,” I admit.

  He holds me in silence for a moment, then whispers, “Thank you.”

  Somehow, I helped him bear the pain of what he did tonight. It’s the least I can do for all he’s done for me.

  “Um, thank you?” I respond. “I was hardly an innocent bystander in all this.”

  He laughs out loud and kisses the top of my head. “You never were an innocent bystander.”

  I think about it for a few seconds before I nod. “Suppose not.”

  We lapse into silence. I wonder if Yvonne was claimed tonight like I was. I wonder what Nicolai did for his brotherhood. I wonder where the third recruit is, if he is out looking for his escaped woman. I wonder if anyone will ever know who we are, and how we will ever escape to true freedom. I wonder if he’s put a baby in me that will forge our bond in the universal brotherhood.

  So many questions. So few answers. We’ve come so far, but now we stand at the cliff’s edge. The silence around us feels heavy, like an anchor dropped at sea.

  “Will you stay with me tonight?” I ask quietly, holding his hand to my heart.

  I brace myself for whatever answer he gives.

  “You couldn’t make me leave if you tried.”

  I smile in the darkness and try to relax. “I’ll never make you,” I whisper. “Never.”

  Chapter 20

  Nicolai

  I wake with Marissa on my chest, the memory of what I did pressing heavily in my mind. I heard the screams of the man I tortured while I slept fitfully. The brutality I inflicted haunted me even in slumber. I can’t erase it from my mind, what I did to earn Marissa.

  I don’t regret it.

  He owed a debt to the Bratva he couldn’t pay, and heard through connections we were obtaining women to bring as tributes. He wanted retribution for the punishment the Bratva inflicted, and knew it would be easier to ambush a few than the entire brigade.

  But this we didn’t know until we brutally, savagely drew it from him.

  I listen to the sound of birds tweeting outside our window as the sun rises and she sleeps on. I try to find solace in the calming sounds, and the feel of her in my arms, but this time it isn’t enough. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, moving slowly so I don’t wake her.

  Last night helped. When I unleash myself on her and she withstands it, it helps me bear what I carry. Somehow knowing that she loves me despite my flaws, that she doesn’t cave when I dominate her, that I can let myself go and master her and she doesn’t push me away, gives me fortitude and strength. She is the calm to my storm, the still water to my rapids.

  Someone recognized me yesterday at the induction. I know they did. Today I will find who he is. I will not cower in fear and wait for a confrontation but find him out and silence him.

  Every time I take a life, it becomes easier. I fucking hate that it does.

  Anyone who recognizes me here worked for Myron, and lied to him about my death. My being alive puts him
at risk, so logically he won’t out me. But he might kill me, and that’s only if he knows who I am. If he sees me with Marissa, the chances are far greater. There’s nowhere to hide her, not with the cameras they have. Hiding her may not be the best strategy.

  It might be better to make a public display of her, watch the reactions of the others, and end whatever threat he is to us.

  I still, my breathing slowing. I think of murdering another as easily as I would place an order for lunch. It disturbs me how easily I would kill someone to save her.

  But I will. I fucking will if I have to.

  “You awake?” she asks. Her eyes are still closed, but her arms around me tighten.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, dragging my fingers through her thick, glossy hair. Every stroke of my hand up and down her beautiful waves soothes the beast in me.

  “You slept terribly,” she says. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I lie. I’ve never been more conflicted in my life. But before I can say another thing, a knock sounds at the door.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  “Yakov.”

  I get out of bed and pull on a pair of boxers, and point to the sheets to be sure Marissa covers up. I walk over to the door and unlock it. He looks as if he hasn’t slept all night, his eyes bloodshot and clothes wrinkled.

  “Come in here,” I say, dragging him in by the arm. “What the fuck happened to you?” I shut the door behind him.

  “Been up all night,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his brow. “Bothered me that Erik wasn’t here. I wondered where he was. So I went looking for him.”

  “Alone? That’s foolish, brother.”

  He shakes his head. “Not now, Aleks.”

  I nod. I won’t lecture him now. Something is wrong.

  “Did you find him?”

  “I did.” He doesn’t have to tell me how or why. I can tell by his grim expression that he found nothing good. I wait.

  He sighs. “He was hanging from a beam in the basement,” he says. “Left a note. Hung himself.”

  “Motherfucker.” I close my eyes while I absorb this. He took his own goddamned life.

  “You tell Tomas yet?”

  Yakov shakes his head. “No. That’s why I came to get you. Thought we could go together.”