Claim Me (Capture Me Book 3)

by Anna Zaires

  “Yulia…” I lean forward until our noses are almost touching. This close, her sweet scent is intoxicating. I breathe it in, feeling like I’m on the verge of losing control. My heart pounds heavily in my chest, and when I speak, the words come out rough and strained. “Why did you decide to run, beautiful? What changed?”

  Her lips part as she stares at me, and the temptation to kiss her, to taste the pink, lush softness of her mouth is unbearable. I’m hyperaware of her, of everything about her. The shallow, uneven rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her soft, smooth skin, the way her long brown lashes tangle with one another at the far corners of her eyes—it all lures me in, intensifying the hunger burning in my veins. Only the conviction that I must have this answer—that it’s something truly important—keeps me from giving in to my need.

  “Tell me, baby,” I whisper, moving my hand to stroke her cheek. “Why couldn’t you do it anymore?”

  Yulia’s breath hitches, her eyes filling with tears as she pushes at my shoulders, trying to twist away. Her distress is such that I almost let her go, but some instinct makes me hold on.

  “Shh,” I soothe, tightening my arm around her back to hold her still. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just tell me, sweetheart. Tell me why you were going to leave.”

  “Lucas, please…” Her tears overflow, spilling down her cheeks as she stops pushing at me. “Please, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” I feel like I’m tormenting a helpless kitten, but I can’t stop. Leaning closer, I kiss away the salty moisture on her cheeks and murmur, “Don’t ask? Why not? What don’t you want to tell me? What are you hiding?”

  Yulia closes her eyes, and I brush my lips across her trembling eyelids. “Come on, sweetheart,” I whisper, pulling back. “Just tell me. What changed for you? Why didn’t you want to do this?”

  “Because I couldn’t.” Opening her eyes, she gazes at me, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. “I just couldn’t do it anymore, okay?”

  “Why?”

  She tries to pull away, but I tighten my arm again, keeping her in place.

  “Why, Yulia?” I press. “Tell me.”

  “Because I fell in love with you!” With shocking strength, she pushes at my chest, and I’m so stunned that I loosen my grip, letting her scramble off my lap. The momentum propels her backward, nearly causing her to fall, but before I can grab at her, she catches her balance and sprints into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  36

  Yulia

  Dura! Idiotka! Imbecile! Debilka!

  Sobbing, I shove a chair against the bedroom door, wedging the back under the doorknob to keep it jammed. My arms shake from overexertion and adrenaline, and regret is like a sledgehammer beating against my skull. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have admitted my feelings to Lucas again? The last time, at least, I thought I was dreaming, but I have no such excuse today.

  Fully awake and conscious, I gave in to Lucas’s relentless tenderness, crumpled under the merciless pull of his gentle demands.

  “Yulia!” The doorknob rattles as he pushes against the door. “What the fuck are you doing? Let me in.”

  My chest heaving, I back away from the door, pressing my fist against my mouth to muffle my sobs. Why did I do this again? Am I some kind of masochist? I know what I am to him: a sex toy, someone he wants to own and possess. If I had any doubts on that front, the trackers would’ve dispelled them. What he’s done is the closest thing to putting a dog leash on a human being, and no amount of sickroom care can make up for his intention to keep me prisoner until he tires of me.

  Love and captivity don’t mix—for most sane people, at least.

  “Yulia.” Lucas bangs his fist on the door. “Fucking let me in!” He kicks at it, and the chair makes a creaking sound as it moves a couple of centimeters across the carpet, letting the door open a crack.

  I cast a desperate glance around the room. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but there’s nothing, so I continue edging backward as Lucas starts kicking at the door in earnest. The crack widens with each violent blow, and just as my trembling legs touch the bed behind me, the chair breaks and the door flies open.

  “Lucas, I—” I’m not sure what I’m planning to say, but he doesn’t give me a chance. Before I can gather my scattered thoughts, he’s on me, and my world goes topsy-turvy as I tumble backward onto the bed. He lands on top of me, and in a blink of an eye, he grabs my wrists, stretching my arms above my head. His pale eyes burn into mine as he presses me into the mattress, his muscular body hot and heavy on top of me. He’s already aroused—I can feel the hard swelling in his jeans— and I know there’s only one way this evening will end.

  My flu-induced respite is over.

  His hands tighten around my wrists, and dark anxiety beats at me, mixing with perverse excitement. I’m viscerally aware of my captor’s strength, of the power of his large male body. When Kirill had been on top of me like this, all I’d felt was terror and revulsion, but with Lucas, it’s infinitely more complicated. Underneath the instinctive fear and distrust, there’s a potent animal attraction mixed with a deeper longing, a desire for connection that makes no sense in the context of who and what we are.

  I’m in love with a man who has every reason to despise me—a man who scares me to my very soul.

  “Yulia…” he murmurs, staring down at me, and I draw in a shaking breath, feeling like I can’t get enough air. I feel torn in two: a part of me wants to run and hide, pretend this isn’t happening, but another part, the weaker part, wants to give in to him again, tell him how much he means to me and beg him to keep me forever.

  Beg him to love me like I love him—like I will always love him.

  “Yulia, sweetheart…” His gaze softens, and I realize I’m crying again, my entire body shaking with gasping sobs. “Hush, baby, it’s not that bad… You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

  But I can’t stop crying—not even when he kisses me, his tongue sweeping over my lips, and not when he releases my wrists and rolls off me to strip off my clothes. I can’t stop crying because he’s wrong. It won’t be okay. There’s no future for us, no hope for anything resembling a normal life. He’s an arms dealer’s second-in-command, a man with no conscience, and I’m his prisoner.

  There are no happily-ever-afters for people like us.

  The pain of that knowledge is so consuming that I barely feel it when Lucas tears off my thong and climbs on top of me after taking off his own clothes. My chest is agonizingly tight, my vision blurred with tears. It’s only when he settles between my legs, his powerful thighs spreading mine apart, that the animal awareness returns, my body responding to him despite my distress. The tip of his cock nudges against my dampening folds, but instead of pushing forward, he stills, holding himself propped up on his elbows as he cradles my face between his large palms.

  “Yulia…” His eyes burn with dark hunger, his sun-bronzed skin stretched tight over his sharp cheekbones. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and guttural. “Nothing and no one will take you from me. No more lies, no more running, no more hiding. I’m going to take care of you and protect you. You and your brother both, do you understand?”

  I manage a small nod, my hands moving up to clutch at his sides. His hard body is vibrating like a string, his muscles coiled as if for a fight, and I know he’s struggling to control himself. On any other night, he would’ve already been inside me, but he’s trying to hold back, to go slowly because of my recent illness.

  Something about that loosens the tight knot in my chest, chases away the panic I was feeling. Maybe I’m not just a toy to him.

  He wouldn’t hold back if he didn’t care.

  “It’s okay, Lucas,” I whisper, blinking to clear away the tears. Given what he’s promising, letting him have my body is the least I can do. “I’m okay.”

  His pupils expand, darkening his blue-gray eyes, and then he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a deep, feral kiss. His t
ongue sweeps into my mouth, conquering and caressing at the same time, and my lower belly tightens as I feel the hard, insistent pressure of his cock. Heat builds inside me, centering between my legs, but a flutter of panic returns too. Despite my reassurances, I’m far from ready for this—emotionally, at least.

  Sex with my captor is never casual and easy.

  But it’s too late to express my hesitations. Lucas’s lips and tongue devour me, taking away my breath, and one of his hands moves down my body, kneading my breasts before traveling lower to touch my sex. His fingers find my clit, playing with it until I’m slick and throbbing, and then he grips his cock and guides it to my entrance, lifting his head to look at me at the same time.

  His eyes glitter as he holds my gaze, and we both inhale sharply as the smooth, broad head of his cock breaches me, stretching my tight flesh. I’d forgotten how thick he is, how large all around. Despite my arousal, my inner muscles need to adjust to the feel of him inside me, and my breathing turns shallow as he presses deeper, his penetration slow and controlled but inexorable. When he’s all the way in, he pauses, holding himself still above me, and I see sweat droplets forming on his forehead. He’s still trying to rein himself in, to be as gentle as someone like him can be.

  “I love you,” I whisper, unable to hold back the words. At this moment, it doesn’t matter that he might not return my feelings, that the odds are stacked against us in every way. “I love you, Lucas, so much.”

  His gaze fills with volcanic heat, his powerful muscles bunching even tighter, and I see the last of his self-control disintegrate. “Yulia,” he groans, and then he withdraws and surges into me, thrusting so hard that air whooshes out of my lungs. It should’ve been too much, too overwhelming, but somehow it’s just right, and I wrap my legs and arms around him, holding on tight as he starts hammering into me, claiming me with feral intensity.

  “Lucas…” His name comes out on a ragged moan as the heat inside me coils and grows, transforming into an unbearable tension. “Oh God, Lucas…” Every muscle in my body vibrates from the agonizing pleasure, my heartbeat pounding audibly in my ears. The moment seems to stretch on forever, and then I climax with startling violence, my muscles clamping down on his shaft as every nerve ending in my body explodes with sensations.

  Lucas lowers his head, swallowing my cry with his mouth, and continues thrusting into me, riding me through the orgasm. He fucks me like a man possessed, his hand sliding into my hair to hold me in place for his voracious kiss, and I feel another orgasm building, each merciless stroke of his cock bringing me closer to the edge. But before I can go over, he stops and raises his head to look at me.

  “Say it again,” he rasps out, his eyes boring into mine. His skin glistens with sweat, his chest heaving with harsh breathing as his cock throbs deep inside me. “Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you,” I gasp, lifting my hips in a desperate attempt to reach the peak. “Please, Lucas, I love you!”

  He sucks in an audible breath, and I feel him swell inside me, growing even thicker and harder as he thrusts in one last time before throwing back his head with a savage groan. His cock jerks inside me, his seed spurting out in several warm bursts, and then he rolls his hips in a circular motion, grinding his pelvis against my sex. To my shock, his movements push me over the edge, and I cry out, my nails digging into his back as a shattering wave of pleasure sweeps through me again, leaving me limp and shaking in its wake.

  “Fuck, baby,” Lucas groans, and I feel his cock spasm one last time before he withdraws and rolls off me. Like me, he’s covered in sweat and breathing hard, but somehow he finds the strength to pull me toward him, embracing me from behind.

  As my heartbeat slows and the post-orgasmic bliss begins to fade, I close my eyes, trying not to think about what I’ve done.

  Trying to ignore the terrifying power Lucas holds over me now.

  37

  Lucas

  When my breathing slows and my muscles start obeying my instructions, I get up and carry Yulia to the bathroom for a quick rinse. She’s silent and withdrawn, all but swaying on her feet as I wash her, and I know I pushed too hard, took her too roughly too soon. I should’ve given her at least a couple more days to regain her strength, but instead, I attacked her like a rampaging caveman, making no allowances for her fragile state.

  Regret gnaws at me, mixing with worry for her health, but underneath the heavy press of guilt is a glow of hot, dark satisfaction. Beyond the aftermath of stunning pleasure, beyond the physical relief of sex, it’s a feeling that warms me from the inside out, making me feel like I’m on top of the world.

  Yulia loves me. There’s no doubt of that now. She loves me, not some dream phantom or lover I’d made up.

  It’s ridiculous, but I feel like I won a fucking lottery.

  When we’re both clean, I help Yulia out of the shower and towel her off before picking her up again. Taking care of her this way feels like the most natural thing now, and the glowing sensation intensifies when she wraps her arms around my neck and trustingly lays her head on my shoulder as I carry her back to the bedroom.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, stopping next to the bed. Bending down, I place her gently on the sheets and clarify, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No,” Yulia whispers, closing her eyes. She looks exhausted, and worry spears through me again. What if this causes her to relapse? I should’ve held back, should’ve controlled myself better. Hell, I should’ve waited to get answers until she was completely well instead of giving in to my impatience.

  Pushing the guilt away, I turn off the light and climb into bed beside her, pulling her into my arms. The feel of her warm, slim curves turns me on again, but this time, I’m able to ignore my body’s reaction.

  “Goodnight, beautiful,” I whisper, reaching down to pull the blanket over us. “Sleep well.”

  Within a minute, Yulia’s breathing takes on the steady rhythm of sleep, and I close my eyes, the glow returning as I hold her tight.

  She loves me, and she’s mine.

  Life couldn’t get any better.

  * * *

  To my relief, the next morning Yulia wakes up with no signs of a relapse. I’m in the kitchen making breakfast when she walks in, already dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, her hair brushed and her eyes bright and alert.

  “Hi,” she says softly, stopping in the doorway. A delicate flush colors her cheeks as she looks at me. “Are you home again today?”

  “Just for a bit,” I say, smiling at her. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay.” She gives me a tentative smile in return. “Just a little hungry.”

  “Good. The omelet’s almost ready.”

  “Do you want some help?” she asks, coming up to the stove. “I can—”

  “Thank you, but I got it.” I wave her away. “If you want, make us both some tea, and I’ll have this on the table in no time.”

  Yulia does as I suggest, and five minutes later, we’re sitting down to eat.

  “I want to see Misha today,” she says after consuming half of her portion in record time. “Since I’m well and everything.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” I say. “I’ll ask Diego to bring him over this afternoon.” I’m still mad at the little punk for upsetting her the other day, but I know I can’t keep her from him—not after what she told me last night.

  Yulia puts down her fork, her expression unreadable. “Lucas…” She reaches up to brush her fingers over the back of her neck. “Am I still a prisoner in this house, even with the trackers?”

  I frown. “No, you’re not.” I’d already decided that I would give her freedom to roam around the estate once the trackers were in. “I told you that.”

  “Then why does Diego need to bring my brother over? Can’t I go see him on my own?”

  I hesitate, looking at her. Though in theory, I like the idea of granting Yulia some independence, now that the moment is here, I feel uneasy at the t
hought of her walking around the estate by herself.

  “You can,” I say finally. “But not today. I need to introduce you to more people here first. They need to know who you are and what you mean to me.”

  “Because of my connection to the crash,” she says, and I nod, relieved she understands. Though some of my unease stems from irrational possessiveness, there’s a reason to be cautious.

  The guards who died in the plane crash had friends and families, some of whom reside on the compound. And though Esguerra and I have done our best to keep the details of the crash under wraps, I know there are rumors about Yulia’s involvement.

  Until I publicly claim her as mine, she’s not safe on her own.

  “What about my brother?” she asks, picking up her tea, and I notice that she stopped eating, her blue eyes trained on me intently. “Is he in danger?”

  “No,” I reassure her. “Diego or Eduardo are with him at all times.”

  “So he is a prisoner?”

  I sigh. “Yulia, your brother is… well, it’s a fluid situation. Once we’re sure he won’t shoot anyone or try to run away, we’ll give him more freedom as well, okay? It’ll just take some time.”

  She takes a few sips of her tea and resumes eating, but I see a small frown etched into her forehead. She’s worried about Michael—the brother who doesn’t seem to appreciate the sacrifices she made for him.

  “What were you two arguing about?” I ask when we’re done with our food. “Your brother seemed angry with you for some reason.”

  Yulia finishes her tea, then says quietly, “He’s confused. Obenko fed him a bunch of lies about me when he recruited him, and he was his uncle, so…” She shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter, but I see the shadow of pain in her eyes.

  UUR’s betrayal goes deeper that I thought.

  “So Michael doesn’t know what you did for him?” My hand tightens around my cup as I picture all the things I’m going to do to Yulia’s former colleagues.