by Kenya Wright
“Were you?”
“No.”
Em swallowed. “They said she was at your uncle’s feast?”
“Yes, she was the one being dragged out.”
“The one in red?”
“Yes.”
“She asked me which one I was fucking. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
She rolled her eyes and stared back out the window.
“Mysh, I really don’t know what she meant.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m drunk and sad, and I want to be mad at someone.”
I gave out an evil chuckle. “No, tonight I’m mad. People are dying around us. I’m trying to keep you safe. You want a drink, then ask a fucking servant. You don’t leave with my sister.”
“Why?” She turned my way. “Is it because you don’t trust her?”
“What do you mean?”
“What did the caped guys say?”
“No, mysh, what did you mean about my sister?”
“I don’t trust her or anybody else.”
“Be careful.”
She gazed out of the window.
I’d been told that men and women argued. I’d seen it in a few movies and shows. Never did I think I would argue with anyone. The women I messed with knew who I was and the pain I could bring. There were never any arguments, just obedience and fucking. But with my mouse, there would be a lot to learn.
The limo stopped at the Four Seasons.
I opened the door and got out. Emily didn’t follow. She got out on her own end, probably to show me how pissed she was.
Luka led us to the elevator.
When the doors slid open, I motioned for him to take the next elevator. Emily and I had to talk before we both ended up killing each other in the suite.
She got in.
I followed.
The doors slid closed.
“Too many have died,” she whispered. “Instead of having sex the whole plane ride, we should’ve been planning.”
“There was no planning out of what happened tonight.”
“We’re done…with having sex at least.”
I snorted.
She glared at me. “You’re not even treating me like one of your men.”
“Because you’re not.”
“I am!”
My cock twitched. That was the problem with Emily. Part of me was pissed that she yelled, the other part was aroused. I ran my fingers through my hair, very close to stopping the elevator and fucking her right on it.
“We don’t have to end this forever,” she rationalized, “but we need to get our heads clear and really focus on getting rid of Sasha and anyone else.”
The elevator stopped on our floor.
I stepped off.
She followed. “Are you listening?”
“Shut up, mysh.”
She stumbled my way and I knew the liquor wouldn’t keep her obedience any longer. Lucky for her, we were only a few feet away from the door. Two men stood outside. One opened it.
Em walked in.
When I got inside, the door slammed behind us.
She didn’t even get a chance to take in the scenery before I had her up against the wall.
She shrieked. “Kaz—”
I consumed that dirty, naughty mouth of hers, tasting alcohol on her tongue.
“Kaz,” she moaned.
I lifted her up some more, grabbing her legs and wrapping them around me. But she wouldn’t let me.
She climbed out of my hold and got back down on the ground. “Look. I’m serious.”
She stumbled toward the bar.
I watched her. “You better be getting water.”
She sighed and grabbed a water bottle. “We have to talk.”
“Why?” I shook my head. “We already know what will happen. This is the moment when you tell me that you don’t want to be ordered around, and I give you the wakeup call that you weren’t hoping for.”
“Is that what happens?” She twisted off the bottle top and drank some water.
“Yes. That’s what happens.”
She set the bottle down. “I ran after the guy for you.”
“I have men for that.”
“They weren’t on it.”
“Nevertheless, I would rather die than you.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it. After a few seconds of silence, she took another sip and sighed. “Maybe we both should calm down. Stop the sex. We don’t know how to do this…dating stuff. It’s clear. We’re both being ridiculous. We have enough going on and—”
“No, and this discussion is done.”
She fisted her hands to the side. “Kazimir…it is not done…”
I stormed toward her, unable to keep my anger back anymore. “You do what I say—”
“I fucking don’t.”
“You’re drunk—”
“And I am my own person. I can be drunk if I fucking want to!”
“No.”
She opened her mouth and stopped herself from speaking.
“You’re mine. I’ve already said it before.” I closed the distance between us. “If I say sit, then you ask in what seat and for how long.”
She laughed, yet no humor hit her face. “Fuck. That.”
And now, I meet more of Emily.
I continued, but probably shouldn’t have, “If I tell you to stop, then you freeze right in fucking place. You don’t move or breathe. These disappearances of yours. Your running around. They don’t happen again. And the men dancing around you, tonight, never again—”
“You should stick with Russian girls because I’m not going to do that.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “When I work for you, then you get that arrangement. Then I will sit, when you say sit. Then, I will run where you tell me. But!” She pointed at me. “If I’m in your bed, then I have a fucking voice and I do what I want, or we don’t do it at all.”
Silence hit me.
“This isn’t going well.” She looked down at the floor. “We should end it now.”
“That’s not an option.”
“It is.” She walked off.
I grabbed her.
She yanked her arm away. “Let me go.”
“No.”
She slapped me and then shrieked, “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
Shocked, I released her. The sting bit my face. Her hand might’ve been soft and sweet, but the crack of her palm against my skin silenced me as I absorbed the pain. When I turned to look at her again, she appeared terrified.
Without a single warning, I reached out and grabbed her hand, yanking her hard against me.
She cried out and I punished her with a bruising kiss. But when her lips parted, and I delved in her honeyed warmth, I lost myself.
She moaned, and I swallowed that too.
My body blazed on fire.
I released Emily.
Lust glazed over her eyes.
I gripped her hard, wanting to tear her clothes off. “Don’t ever hit me again.”
Her words rode shivers. “I won’t.”
“We’re not done talking, mysh.” I grabbed her chin and traced my finger along her bottom lip. “My approach has been wrong, but you must know what you mean to me.”
“Kaz, we’re dangerous for each other. Let’s just end this here.”
“No.” I kissed her. “I’m sorry about Xavier.”
“And…” She sighed. “I’m sorry about Uncle Igor.”
I parted her mouth with my fingertips. “You don’t disappear.”
“Focus on one thing to argue about at a time.”
“No.”
Letting out another exasperated breath, she leaned into my chest, hid her face, and wrapped her arms around me.
I held her. “I’ll take care of the men that killed Xavier.”
“I will too.”
I gritted my teeth. “That can be the only way? Right?”
“Yes. We either do
this together or we don’t do it at all.”
I held in my annoyance. “I wanted to take control of it. I’m used to doing things on my own.”
She looked up. “But I’m involved. Xavier is dead. Kennedy too. My brother’s either behind this bullshit or dead by now.”
“True. But this is bigger than Harlem or anything you’ve ever dealt with. You’ve lost a lot, but this is between Sasha and me. You’re not in it.
She buried her head back into my chest and tightened her grip around my waist. “You don’t tell me what I’m in.”
“This is my world, mysh.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” She kept her head against me. Her body relaxed. “Deal with it.”
We stood in silence. The embrace calmed me. Perhaps, we should’ve done that from the beginning. Hold each other. Touch our skin. There was power in an embrace. I could feel the tension sliding away as soon as I wrapped my arms around her.
In the end, we were angry and terrified. We’d been caught by surprise, and two people we loved had died around us. And we didn’t stop it.
There was so much fear.
I’d spent my lifetime not making decisions with emotion. But since Emily had entered my life, I’d become emotional with my choices. I knew I couldn’t keep her locked in a room. I had no idea why I’d tried—fear, possessiveness, my habit of being a bully.
I’d told her she was mine, and she replied with a new definition of the word. To her, mine meant trust and full honesty. Mine equated to her having her own voice. Mine said independence and freedom. And what could I do but listen? She’d become too important—to my world, to my life, to my heart, to the very depths of my soul.
Emily rubbed her head against my chest. “I’m sorry, Kaz. I should’ve never hit you.”
I’m sorry too.
I couldn’t tell her those words, but she needed to really understand why I’d been so insane with her today. I’d thought she knew my feelings for her. But how could I, when in this moment, I was just realizing them myself?
“Mysh…” I ran my fingers through her hair and decided to tell her what I’d been holding inside. “I’m falling for you, and I’m scared that you’ll die.”
Thirteen
Emily
“I’m falling for you, and I’m scared that you’ll die.”
The impact of Kaz’s voice on my senses was as hard-hitting as it had been the first time I’d heard it. Dangerous yet sensual, it knocked me for a loop both in the darkness and in sunlight. And because of that, my world narrowed to him. My focus. My heart. It all centered on him.
Dark lust flashed through his gaze. “Do you hear me, mysh?”
The soft way he said my name had my toes flexing.
“Maybe…” I swallowed. “Maybe…I’m falling too.”
“Maybe?” He lifted my face to his and kissed me. “Maybe, we’re figuring this falling in love together…as people die around us.”
“Well, I’ve heard it’s hard to fall in love, even when people aren’t dying around them.”
He caressed my cheek, making me even more wet with the gesture. “Then, we’ll have to show everyone how easy it can be, no matter what comes our way.”
This kind of conversation scared me. His words didn’t sound like our situation would be temporary. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t want us to be short. In fact, I didn’t like the idea of not being around him at all.
“I can change, if you can,” he whispered.
“I can.”
He didn’t break that intense gaze. “Don’t disappear.”
“Then don’t tell me where to stay.”
“Then make sure I always know where you’re at.”
“You too.”
That’s right, Kaz. This goes both ways. I’m worried about you dying too! Why the hell do you think I raced around that castle tonight?
Heat filled his gaze. “Okay. You’ll know where I am.”
He stuck his finger a little between my parted lips. I sucked his finger in the same way I yearned to suck his cock.
“Mysh,” he moaned.
I moved my mouth from his finger. “Were you in love with the ballerina?”
“No.”
“But you think Sasha killed her because he thought you were in love with her?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I think Valentina did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to put Maxwell on it.”
“Maxwell?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “You’re right about a lot. You’ve had my back, and right now you’re the only one I can trust. Someone close to me is coming after me, and it’s not just Sasha. Sasha is supposed to take the fall and keep me busy. There’s someone else in the background pulling his puppet strings.”
“So, we’re in this together?”
“Yes.”
“Equals?”
“Not equals.” He grinned. “I could never get on your level, mysh.”
“Funny,” I murmured as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
For the first time since I’d been in the suite, I leaned into the kiss. There was a soft rumble in his chest as he reached over and slipped his hands along my hips and then cupped my ass.
Why would I ever fight with him? How can I ever be mad with Kaz? He’s becoming my everything.
I couldn’t help myself as I shifted my body into him. Without even realizing it, I was running my fingers along the buttons of his shirt. It all had to go. His shirt, pants, boxer briefs. It all had to go. Disappear. Fall away. I could picture the hard, muscular body hidden underneath his clothing, and it was only a few short movements away from my fingers. I needed the barriers between us removed—not just his clothes, but our stubbornness for each other.
“Now, the discussion is done.” I slid one or two buttons out of their holes, slipped my fingers in, and felt those rippling muscles beneath his warm skin. The shirt pretty much disintegrated. I ripped it off with several hard tugs.
He licked his lips as he watched me. The bulge in his pants grew with each yank. I couldn’t wait to see his cock next.
He tasted and stole me away with his tongue, and when I moaned under him, he finally let me come up for air.
There was both fear and desire in his eyes. The skin around his mouth was raw and forming a five o’clock shadow. He looked rough and elegant all at the same time.
He gave me an intense stare. “I wanted to kill the men on the dance floor.”
“Why?”
“Because they could see you.”
I smiled. “You’re going to have to lighten up.”
“Will I?” His lips moved to the sensitive hollow of my throat, and I couldn’t think. Cold air nipped at my skin. It mixed with the searing heat of my arousal. I felt dizzy. Every nerve in my body screamed for him to wrap her legs around his waist and draw him closer.
Unable to resist, I tore the shirt off him.
He watched as I ripped his expensive shirt away. I pushed the shirt down and slid my hands over his chest. His skin was warm and taut beneath my palms. “I don’t like that you have an ex-lover.”
“The ballerina?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t call her an ex-lover. It wasn’t for long.”
My heart ached a little. “How long was it?”
“Off and on for a few months, but if you combined the amount of time we spent together, it would be a week or less.”
“That’s kind of like us.”
“No, mysh.” He helped undress me, taking off my blouse, and unsnapping my bra. My breasts swung heavy.
“You and I are something very different.” He leaned down and sucked a nipple in his mouth, drawing on it hard. His touch teased and tormented me. He’d discovered how sensitive my nipples were. I could come from his tongue alone.
A cry escaped my lips. He lapped around the circle forming my areola before sucking the nipple’s point in again.
“Fuck,” I moaned
, slowly pushed him away, and leaned back. “I don’t know if I can ever say goodbye to you.”
“You’ll never have to know.” His hands went to the snap on my jeans. My pants were on the floor in a manner of seconds.
A minute later, he had me spread out on an elegant crystal dining table. And he was a mad man. He pushed the plates and let them crash to the floor. His hot mouth traveled over my breasts and down my stomach, nipping at my navel.
He stared at my panties—the only thing he hadn’t torn off.
I reached out to undo his pants.
He moved my hands away.
I pouted.
“I should punish you.”
“You really should.”
“You were so bad.” He stroked my pussy lightly over the silk fabric of the panties.
“I’m sorry.”
He stroked some more, leaned his huge body over and kissed me again.
“Take off your pants.” Unable to help myself, I yanked him forward and wrapped my legs around him. The rough material of his pants scraped over my clit, and I couldn’t help but do it again and again. My body had a mind of its own and a hunger that would not be refused tonight.
He growled low in his chest and reached up to pinch my nipples. Something between pleasure and pain seared through me, and I cried out. “Just do it.”
He groaned.
I pleaded with him. “Just fuck me.”
“I will. But first you will beg.”
Something snapped inside me, and I pushed him back.
“I won’t.”
“You won’t?” His voice was a warning, but it didn’t stop me.
“This is mine.” I unbuckled his belt and yanked down his pants and boxer briefs. When his cock sprang free, I reached up and slid a finger from the base to tip. “I don’t beg for what’s mine.”
Groaning, his hips jerked in response.
I smiled wickedly. “Give it to me, Kaz.”
And he did.
He entered me, diving that cock inside.
And the vibe changed. Carnality replaced teasing. Lust dominated rational. Anger dissipated as tongues tangled and hands groped, and my pussy came alive for him, swallowing that thick, big cock. Needing him. Craving him. Giving him my all because he deserved it. Because he needed it just as much as I did.
We’d become one, in many ways.
Neither one of us would deny it.