MAFIA: Dark Romance Collection

by Silver, Kiera

  She shook her head, trying to escape even as his cock hardened fully against her, and she was aware of him beginning to thrust lightly against her. His hands on her hips were holding her in place, and she realized he was no longer completely anchoring her arms at her side. He was too busy dry-humping her.

  With perhaps more courage than common sense, she flung herself off his lap, ending up on the floorboard. Tara banged her head against the door in the process, and blood spilled down her forehead in a hot stream. She blinked as drops obscured her vision, still cursing and hitting out at him even as he bent to pick her up and put her back on his lap.

  He squeezed her just hard enough to hurt, but it was the only way he would have gotten through to her. She had to grudgingly acknowledge that when she fell still.

  “Stop fighting me. Let me see your head.”

  She sat quietly, enduring his fingers stroking over her face as they probed lightly around her wounds and the spot where she had hit her head. A second later, he pressed a clean cloth from the minibar against the area, and she couldn’t hold back a little whimper.

  “Don’t be a baby, lisichka.”

  “I’m not a baby. That hurts.” She glared at him, but couldn’t fight back curiosity. “What is lisichka?”

  He smiled gently. “Little fox. With that bright red hair and those flashing brown eyes, you remind me of a lisich. It makes me curious to know how much rubbing it would take to get past your aggressive veneer and find the sweet pussy inside.”

  She flinched at the word, but not because the crudeness had shocked her. What was shocking was how her nerve endings responded to the way he spoke the word. The way he said it was sexy as hell. She couldn’t really be attracted this man, could she? She had seen him beat and murder someone tonight, and that was before he had kidnapped her. He wasn’t a good person, so shouldn’t that have precluded her from finding anything about him attractive?

  He went on as though the moment hadn’t occurred, his voice turning brisk again. “The bleeding should stop soon, and I don’t think you have a concussion. Behave and be a good girl, and you will avoid future pain.”

  She turned her head to look at him with incredulous eyes. “You expect me to behave and be a good girl? You’re fucking kidnapping me, and you’re probably going to end up killing me. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to cooperate or make this easy on you.”

  He sighed, looking put out. “Of course you won’t, lisichka. You will do your best to make life difficult for me, I have no doubt.” Either he didn’t believe she could actually do that, or he was unconcerned, because he leaned back in the seat and pulled her into his arms again, insisting she hold the cloth herself.

  With her hands occupied keeping her blood from flowing everywhere, she had little choice but to sit still and be quiet. She was aware of his erection pressing fiercely into her lower back now that they had shifted positions. She thought about asking him if that was his common reaction to all his kidnap victims, but she didn’t want to draw attention to it.

  “I’ve seen you before.”

  She nodded, unsurprised, and not just because he had already mentioned her visits to the club. She had always felt watched when she went there, and it must have been his eyes on her. She had been convinced it was the owner of the club, and that seemed to be him.

  “You don’t come for the pussy dancers, so why do you come to my club so often? For your sister?”

  She nodded jerkily. “To look after my sister. She shouldn’t be at your sleazy establishment, especially since she’s a recovering heroin addict. I’m trying to look out for her and take care of her.”

  He nodded, his chin rubbing against the back of her head. “Believe it or not, lisichka, we have something in common. I too watch out for my family, protecting my younger brother and my father. It’s an admirable trait to find in someone, and it’s one of the many beautiful things about you.”

  She stiffened, determined to reject the compliment, though she couldn’t pretend like it didn’t warm her slightly. It was a nice change to have her tendency praised rather than have someone complaining about her overprotectiveness. Hoping she might be able to get through to him and make some sort of connection, she asked, “What do you protect them from?”

  His reply didn’t do anything to soothe her or give her hope. “From our world, but mostly, I protect them from myself.”

  She shivered at the answer. “Are you that dangerous?”

  His fingers moved through her hair in a soothing fashion. “You know the answer to that, engel. You’ve seen what I do.”

  “Just call me Tara,” she snapped, sick of all the endearments.

  “Tara.” The way he said it suggested he was tasting her name, savoring it as he would the finest vodka, and searching for all the nuances and subtleties within. “That’s a nice name, but I think you will always be my little fox instead.”

  She shifted on his lap enough to be able to glare at him, though it caused an uncomfortable tugging in her scalp. He hadn’t released his hold on her hair, and he showed no sign of doing so as she wriggled around to look at him. “I’m not your anything, and don’t forget it.”

  “Sweet, naïve Tara, don’t you understand how things have changed?”

  She shook her head as his face came closer to hers. “Stop.”

  He ignored her, his lips almost brushing her own. “I own you now, Tara Noland, and I can do whatever I want with you. It would be better for you to enjoy the experience rather than to keep fighting me. I don’t wish to hurt you, but I won’t accept open defiance.”

  Tara struggled to hide her fear, and the disconcerting surge of arousal that accompanied his words. What the hell was wrong with her? It hadn’t been that long since she’d gotten laid, even if her last boyfriend had been lacking in the orgasm-giving department. “I’ll never stop fighting you, you gangster.”

  “Bratva,” he said with little expression. “I am the Sovietnik and acting Pahkhan of our city. There are few would go against me, and none who would do so for the sake of you. I’m offering you the chance to be my pampered pet, lisichka.”

  She glared at him, almost daring him to close the distance between them and press his mouth to hers. She’d bite his fucking tongue off if he tried it. “I’m no one’s pet. I’m a person, and I have rights. You can’t just do this sort of thing.”

  He laughed, clearly amused by her naïveté. “I’m Alexei Varnakov, leader of the russkaya mafiya in our city, and you are nothing to me or compared to me. You are what I want you to be, and right now, I want you to be silent.”

  She opened her mouth to make a smartass response, not even really caring what she said as long as she made a point of responding, but his mouth was on hers then. He swallowed any attempt she made at speaking, his lips sealed to hers, forcing her to accept his kiss.

  If she were honest with herself, there wasn’t a whole lot of force involved, other than her trying to force herself not to respond. Despite her earlier resolve to bite his tongue if it came anywhere near her mouth, she found herself yielding to his questing appendage when it swept inside her mouth, kissing her deeply and branding her as his. The kiss was like a mark of possession, and though she bristled at the gesture, an annoying part of her purred in pleasure at being labeled as his.

  Her own reaction spurred her to shove against him, letting the bloody cloth fall between them and unconcerned about rivulets of blood still streaming from the cut on her head. She tried to slap him, but with her hands bound together, all she managed was to smack against his cheek with little more force than a love tap. “Don’t ever touch me again like that.”

  He glared at her as he grabbed her hands, forcing them back to her lap and holding her still. It was clear his intent was to break her resistance and to prove a point when he brought a hand to her button-down blouse and ripped the buttons open carelessly. They flew off and scattered, a couple hitting the interior with little plinking sounds, before her shirt gaped open to reveal her
bra.

  “No more bras. From now on, you wear what I tell you to wear and what I’ll provide. From the behavior you’re displaying, you’ll have no clothing to start with. You have to earn each piece you get, Tara. You need to learn who owns you now, and you need to maintain respect.”

  “You can fuck yourself, Varnakov.” Tears came to her eyes when he wrenched open her bra, the elastic biting into her skin before it broke. Her breasts were bared to his gaze, and she expected him to grab her and start touching her lewdly.

  Instead, Alexei seemed content to just stare at her bared breasts. “Beautiful. Generous. I will taste them soon, but you don’t deserve such consideration yet. Until you learn to mind your manners, you’ll receive no pleasure. Only pain.”

  She glared at him, wishing she had an intelligent retort. The best she could come up with was, “I’d rather suffer than be subjected to your version of pleasure.”

  “Then I have no doubt you’re in for a treat, lisichka. Until you learn to control that tongue, pain is all you’ll know.”

  She was saved from having to make a response by the car abruptly stopping. Within seconds, the back door nearest him opened, and she tried to scramble off his lap to make a break for it.

  He held her easily, making sure she saw him roll his eyes as he clamped her closer to him before climbing from the car, still holding her against him. Her shirt gaped open, and she crossed her arms over her chest to hide her nudity.

  “Will you be a good girl and walk, or should I start stripping you right here?”

  It just about killed her, but she straightened her spine and wiggled her feet, an unspoken demand to be put down. He set her down beside him, one hand still firmly gripping her upper arm. At least it provided enough space for her to be able to cover herself as he marched her into a large house. It was dark, obscuring many of the details, but she was certain she saw high walls surrounding them, along with a crow’s nest perched at the top of each corner. There appeared to be men holding large guns as they walked the walls, and it was disconcertingly like entering a war zone.

  He pushed her in front of him, making her walk a step ahead, keeping her focused on the trajectory he had set, though she had no idea of their destination. He continued to maintain his firm hold on her arm as he dragged her up three flights of stairs before stopping in front of a door that was painted black and had no knob on the outside. Her eyes widened when Alexei pressed his hand to a metal plate, and it was only then that the door opened.

  Clearly, the door was secured by biometrics, and she didn’t have to ask to know hers wouldn’t be a match. Considering the sophisticated security system, she expected him to be leading her into a network of cells or something, perhaps surrounded by torture devices, though she had no knowledge for him to torture from her. Instead, he took her to a nondescript room that could have doubled as guestroom in any of the nicer homes in the area. There was a large bed with a white duvet, blonde oak furniture, and a television on the TV stand.

  He herded her through the room before she had much of a chance to look around, taking her to a bathroom. It was all white marble and silver taps, and dizzyingly expensive, though somewhat impersonal. “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing to your head.”

  Alexei positioned her in front of the sink, giving her a glare that seemed to warn her not to move, before he opened the medicine cabinet. As he searched through the meager contents, she did a visual inventory, but found nothing that could be used as a weapon. It held nothing more than a few bottles of things like pain reliever and allergy medicine, along with bandages and travel-size toiletries, and a small first-aid kit.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  She looked away from the bottle she’d been reading to look at him. “Think about what?”

  “Overdosing. There are only a few capsules in each bottle, and even if you mix them all together, it wouldn’t be enough to kill you.”

  She glared at him. “I’m not going to kill myself to get away from you.”

  He nodded. “It’s good to know you’re strong, lisichka. It will make it that much more of a challenge and more fun to tame you.”

  She rolled her eyes as he dabbed at the wound on her forehead with something that stung. “You’re not going to tame me. I already told you I’m not a pet.”

  He took a moment to smooth the Band-Aid on the wound before he gave her a cocky grin. “With a little petting and caressing, you will be lisichka.”

  She glared at him. “I’m not a fox.”

  “With all those claws and all that hissing, you do a very good impression of being a wild animal, milaya moyna.”

  “Tara,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just call me Tara.”

  “Tara is not a name for a lover. You will be my lover, and so you will be called sweet things.” His expression changed, becoming darker and foreboding. “As soon as you become sweet.”

  She tried to cross her arms over her chest before remembering her hands were still bound. “Are you ever going to cut me loose?”

  He nodded, reaching into his pocket to pull out an ornate knife with skulls and roses carved into the handle. It was a beautiful, lethal piece of work. She struggled to hide any fear as he opened the blade and slid it between the plastic binding her hands to cut her free. She stared at it a moment longer as it moved away before she started to rub her wrists. “And my ankles?”

  Alexei inclined his head once, but his gaze caught hers, and his expression was serious. “If you try any of that shit you did on my man, like kicking me, you will hurt. Do not misbehave.”

  It was so tempting to just kick him in the head when he knelt down, but she forced herself to push through that reaction. It was immature and purely sparked by him telling her not to. She had a tendency to overreact and be quick to anger, as was the curse common to redheads, but she had to rein in that urge if she was going to survive this and manage to escape. For now, she should be trying to make him think she was no threat and wouldn’t be trying to run away. She couldn’t quite see managing that impossible task, but she could try being smarter about her interactions with the Russian gangster kneeling at her feet.

  A moment later, he had removed the plastic and stood in front of her again. “Now what?” she asked reluctantly.

  “Now I go back to my life, and if you’re lucky, I remember you’re here. If not, you simply cease to exist, Tara Noland.”

  He spoke so casually, and with so little regard, that she didn’t have much trouble believing he might actually forget he had left her here. He might abandon her to starvation or who knows what other horrible fate?

  All of his blustering and sick words about making her his pet might have been simply to toy with her. A man like him, it was likely as soon as she was out of his sight, she would be far from his mind. She should be grateful for that, even if it meant she was being left here to die slowly, but she couldn’t deny a dart of regret when he turned and exited the bathroom without speaking to her again.

  Surely, it was simply self-preservation and not wanting to be abandoned to a slow and painful death, rather than regret at not ever seeing him again, should that come to pass. Any other reason would be pure madness.

  Chapter Two

  What the hell was he doing? Alexei went straight to his room and the bar there, pouring a generous serving of vodka before pacing around his suite as he chastised himself for snatching her and bringing her to his home. His motherfucking home! What had he been thinking? It would have been simpler and cleaner to just shoot her at the club. She could have fallen beside that scum Slava and been dealt with by the cleaner who was even now sanitizing the location.

  He hadn’t been able to think about hurting his little fox though. From the moment he’d put his arms around her to keep her from running away, he’d been lost. If he were being honest with himself, he had probably been lost before that.

  He couldn’t help watching her when she came to his club, and she’d been destined to be his from the mome
nt she had crossed his path. She just hadn’t realized it until tonight. As difficult as the situation was, and put him in a precarious position of having a witness to his elimination of Slava, he didn’t exactly regret the turn of events. It brought Tara under his control.

  Control? He snorted softly as he tossed back the expensive vodka like it was water. Controlling Tara would be a challenge, he had no doubt. She was guaranteed to fight him every step of the way, which would make her submission that much sweeter.

  Just thinking about her yielding to him, her words adoring, and her expression full of passion for him, sent another sharp ache through his groin. He’d had an almost constant hard-on since the moment he first touched her, and holding her wiggling body in the car had done nothing to ease the throbbing.

  If she hadn’t been such a disrespectful little bitch, he would be buried balls-deep in that sweet pussy right now. His cock jumped at the thought, and with a groan of impatience, he went to his bathroom, shedding his clothes along the way. He turned the water on hot, unable to resist the urge of picturing her inside the stall, perhaps on all fours with her ass in the air. That would be a lovely sight, to see those lush globes pointed upward. He couldn’t wait to explore all of her curves, and to feel her pussy wrapped around him.

  He stepped into the hot water, allowing it to wash away the stresses of the day as he clamped a hand around his shaft and stroked himself while thinking of her. Soon, he would allow himself to have the real thing, but not until she had learned to mind her manners. His little fox needed some obedience lessons before she deserved rewards.

  * * *

  No one had bothered her through the night, and she eventually crawled into the bed when exhaustion took over. She hadn’t wanted to sleep, with it making her feel even more vulnerable, but the reality was she couldn’t do anything to fight off anyone who came for her anyway. A few hours of sleep would serve her better than complete exhaustion.