5. Natasha
5
NATASHA
H eart hammering in my throat, I war between fear and fury. The audacity of this cocky Irishman is beyond fathom. And the suggestion in his voice combined with the heat of his light-green gaze steals my breath away—as does the weight of his bare, muscular chest and thick forearm pressing against my throat.
I can’t help but notice the powerful veins that run from the back of his hand up his thick wrist and over his bulging bicep. Each carrying his life force beneath his heavily tattooed skin. I don’t see an inch that hasn’t been covered by some masterful design.
Everything about this man screams masculine strength.
And I could feel it the second he turned the tables on me.
It only took a moment’s hesitation for me to lose the upper hand. He was waiting for it. Ready to crush me. My throat is raw from just how close he came to succeeding. I swallow forcefully as I refuse to drop my gaze.
I might be trapped, but I’m not backing down.
And I suppose that means we’ll find out just what kind of beast he is tonight.
“Considering you did sneak in with the intention of killing me,” Killian purrs, his lilting voice dangerously appealing for someone so threatening. “It seems only fair that I should take your life.”
The hint of whiskey on his breath mingles with the scent of leather and eucalyptus, a heady yet subtle scent that matches his masculine presence and overwhelms me just the same.
But appealing as he might smell, I’m not about to let that distract me.
Mustering my strength, I squirm beneath him, trying to find any avenue of escape.
All he has to do is lean into me, and I feel how fruitless my struggle really is.
I’m also intensely aware of the rock-hard power in his body.
His arms effortlessly lock me in place. And his abdomen and chest are like a slab of granite ready to flatten me.
My pulse flutters as the thought of how thin the fabric is that separates us.
He’s not even wearing a shirt, and all I have is my flimsy black spandex that makes it easy for me to climb onto balconies unseen.
My eyes dart down the exposed skin of his chest without my permission.
I’m dangerously intrigued by the black ink that scrawls across his pecs. The artistry of it is haunting—a blend of flowers and Celtic knots that somehow interweave seamlessly with vacant-eyed skulls and viperous snakes.
A beautiful picture of death and destruction. Just like him .
“Easy, little tigress,” he purrs, making my stomach flip-flop nervously as I look back up at his face. “I haven’t decided to kill you just yet.” His vibrant eyes shift down to my lips for such a brief moment, I almost wonder if I imagined it. Then they’re boring into my very soul as he gazes at me with unwavering intensity. “How about we make a deal?” he suggests, his melodic voice turning playful.
“I don’t make deals with snakes,” I spit.
And his chuckle rumbles right into my chest, raising goosebumps across my flesh.
“You haven’t even heard what it is yet,” he teases.
“Fine. What’s your offer?” I grit through my teeth.
“I’ll let you live if you’ll spend the night with me,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a wickedly charming smile. His dimples come out in full force, stealing my breath away.
My skin flames at the lewd offer, heat creeping up my neck until I have no doubt I’m blushing.
But what horrifies me most is the way my core tightens at the thought of sleeping with him. And the peak of my thighs grows warm.
I desperately want to deny the hint of desire. I should not be tempted by the sound of his offer.
So why is my belly filled with butterflies?
Leaning my head as far from the wall as his arm will permit, I get right in his face. “Drop dead,” I hiss.
His hum of amusement sends tingling anticipation up my spine, and my breath quickens.
“I do love a girl with an attitude,” he admits, his eyes burning with a hunger that would support his statement. “Alright then, how about this? I won’t just spare your life. I’ll let you go. And you can keep coming back to kill me as often as you like. I won’t tighten my defenses. I won’t tell my guards. I’ll give you as many opportunities as you want to try and best me.”
Sleep with him one time, and then he’ll give me free rein to end his life? The offer sounds too good to be true—so I’m sure it is.
“But,” he adds, confirming my suspicion, “each time you fail to kill me, you have to spend the night doing whatever dirty things I desire.”
My heart stutters as my imagination runs rampant. Just how twisted could Killian King be? I’m not so sure I want to find out. But what’s the alternative?
I doubt he’ll let me walk out of here alive if I don’t agree to his terms.
“What happens if I don’t take the deal?” I challenge, trying to gauge what kind of savage I might be making a pact with. “Will you just take me by force?”
My stomach knots uncomfortably at the suggestion, and I pray that I’m not giving him ideas. But I think it’s only fair that I make my choice with eyes wide open. If he’s going to fuck me either way, I’d rather know that ahead of time.
Killian scoffs, and for the first time since I laid eyes on him, he actually looks insulted. Like the idea of raping me genuinely offends him. So much so that he takes the slightest step back, relinquishing just enough pressure on my chest that I can breathe freely once again.
“I don’t need to force myself on women,” he says flatly.
Then, in the long silence that follows, he eyes me with a more serious consideration. It feels as though he’s trying to peel back the layers of my mind, to assess just how abhorrent I might find his offer.
And I’m terrified he might see the electric anticipation crackling around me—the inexplicable urge to feel what kind of pleasure a man like Killian King might be capable of delivering.
“I don’t offer deals to just anyone, love,” he says, keeping his voice measured. “And if you won’t take it, I suppose I’ll either kill you…or reveal your true identity to the world.”
My stomach plummets as I realize he might actually have a more effective form of blackmail than threatening to take my life.
He must see it on my face because Killian’s smirk returns in full force. “If I do that, your father will lose his strongest chess piece in our little game for power. Won’t he? And you won’t just become a target. You’ll be a liability.”
He says it so casually, I want to spit in his eye. But right now, a show of rebellion isn’t going to do anything but make my situation worse.
Breathing heavily, I release a frustrated scream as I give it all I’ve got. Pushing and shoving, I writhe against him, trying to break free. And for the span of a second, I actually think I might succeed. I manage to worm my arms free from where they’re trapped between us. And I go straight for his eyes, ready to claw them out if need be.
Grunting in surprise, Killian barely manages to keep me pinned down. But as soon as his fingers wrap around my wrists, I know I’m done for. He forces them up against the wall above me, and we pant together as he pins me once again, this time with the entire length of his body.
Heat surges through my core at the feel of his arousal pressed against my belly. And when he releases a breathy laugh, my eyes shift instinctually to his perfectly shaped lips.
“Man, you are a firecracker,” he observes. “Who’d have thought Boris Sokolov raised his daughters to be so strong? I pictured you two getting ripped to shreds when he dies. But if your sister’s half as fierce as you, I pity the man who thinks he can lay claim to your inheritance.”
“Funny you should say that and still have the gall to make me the offer you just did,” I snap.
“Yeah, well, considering I’ve got you pretty well pinned down, I figure this is my best shot of getting what I want.”
“You’re a pig,” I hiss, glaring up at him.
“Be that as it may, you’ll have to give me an answer eventually.”
“And if I don’t?”
Killian shrugs. “I suppose I’ll get bored and kill you.”
So there it is. Those are my options. Die. Betray my family. Or give my body over to Killian—and live to kill him tomorrow.
“And if I agree? How can I trust that you won’t reveal my identity the first chance you get?”
“I’m a man of my word, Miss Sokolov. I might be a cocky prick, but have I ever given you reason to doubt my honesty? I promise, your secret’s safe with me. Besides, from where I stand, I don’t see you have much choice but to trust me.”
“Fine,” I say coldly.
“Fine, you’ll trust me?” he teases.
“No.” Clenching my teeth, I work to keep my temper in check. “But I’ll sleep with you.”
Killian hums appreciatively, his eyes dancing with victory.
“You better savor it, though,” I hiss, “because this is the one and only time you’ll ever have me. And make no mistake, this will be your last night on earth.”
Killian’s low, sultry chuckle is fearless. “I assure you, love, I intend to savor every moment. And if it is my last night, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend it with.”
Heat blossoms in my core at his dark promise, and the air vanishes from my lungs.
Suddenly, I can feel every inch of my flesh that’s touching him. The friction building between our bodies.
He’s so close—too close. And yet, as he leans in, I’m terrified by the possibility that I might want him to come closer. His light-green eyes dart down to my lips, and I see his intention right before he acts upon it.
Transferring both of my wrists to one hand, Killian uses his other to cup my chin. And he tips it up so he can claim my lips.
His full, smug mouth curls into a subtle smile against me, and my heart pounds as he kisses me with shocking tenderness. His lips are soft, inviting, and they seal against mine with a curiosity that releases a jolt of attraction through my body.
Though I want to hate Killian, as badly as I want to loathe his touch, I’m shocked to find how much he turns me on.
I gasp, my lips parting as electric excitement crackles through my veins. I press my thighs together in an effort to keep my feelings under lock and key. But it’s no use.
Killian knows .
I can feel it the second he does.
Because his kiss transforms from gentle to ravenous in an instant.