Captured

Chapter 9

CHAPTER

NINE

VIKTOR

I didn't sleep much after last night.

My body won't move right. My arms and legs feel slow, thick with heat like I've been lying here too long. The world is still a grey, sluggish blur from whatever Petrov pumped into me, but I force my body to move anyway, overriding the chemical fog with the singular need to see him break.

I blink, exhausted before my eyes fully open. The ceiling blurs. A line of light cuts across it. I can't tell if it’s morning or if I lost a day. I curl my fingers into a fist. The movement lags. I'm still here. They didn't kill me.

They should’ve killed me.

Jonah lies on top of the blanket, curled toward me with his knees drawn up. His head is resting against my ribs. One hand is tucked near my stomach, gripping a folded cloth. He stayed close. He chose the heat of my bed over the safety of the chair across the room.

The room smells different. Clean. The sharp trace of blood is gone. My skin feels stripped of grit, touched by water and cloth. I don't have to think long to understand what happened. He washed me while I was under. Changed the dressings. Kept working while the drugs shut me down.

That should bother me. Instead, it registers as a fact. Something to file away. He couldn't leave, but he didn't stop either. According to my logic, that makes him mine.

Settling my hand on his shoulder, I feel the muscle shift. He breathes against my ribs and curls in tighter before he wakes. Then his whole body goes rigid. His breath changes.

“Vik...” He cuts himself off, eyes opening wide, a smile breaking through before he can stop it. “You’re awake. I thought you...”

He pushes up too quickly, the blanket sliding off his shoulder to expose a strip of skin. My gaze locks on the curve of his shoulder before he can pull the tee back in place. His face colors as he scrambles upright. “Never mind. You’re awake. Good. Wait, there’s food. Let me get it for you.”

He stands and crosses the room, then hesitates. His fingers flex over the tray before he picks it up.

“They just brought this in earlier, but I didn't touch it. I thought maybe you’d need it first.” He sets the tray on the edge of the bed. “You want some coffee? Or maybe water first?”

I look at what the guards sent up. There’s a basket of dark bread and thick slices of roast beef. A wedge of aged cheese with a heavy knife laid across it. Butter. Olives.

I study him. “And you didn't eat any of this? You’re crazy, malysh.”

He ducks his head, worrying his thumb along the tray edge. “You need it more than I do. So, I waited.”

He stays where he is, propped on one elbow, eyes already back on the bandage with that narrow focus he gets when he works.

“How long have I been out?”

“More than two days. You were hard to wake.”

Two days. Whatever the fuck they gave me was meant to keep me down. I take the bread first, then the cheese, eating without ceremony. It goes down fast. Jonah sits beside the bed, hands on his knees. His shoulders ease when he realizes I'm not going to put the tray down.

I lift my chin toward what’s left. “Eat.”

He obeys. He keeps his eyes on the tray, on the floor. Anywhere but me. When he finishes, he wipes his fingers and sits still again. He’s been hungry. I don't know why he chose to wait for me, but the debt of it settles heavy.

Jonah’s gaze darts to the door, then back to me. “What do they want from you?”

A short breath leaves me. “Well, my uncle Sergei wants me gone, because he's a son of a bitch. And he's onto something. I just haven't figured out what.”

“Well, I noticed they rotated the guards again last night. They asked Petrov if the dose would be enough. They kept saying you had to be ‘manageable’ when you woke up.”

My jaw locks. “Petrov? Did that snake come into the room while I was out? If he touched you...”

Jonah's face flushes. He shakes his head quickly. “No. He just came to check on you. That’s all.”

My pulse refuses to drop. “He came close?”

Jonah swallows. “He checked your breathing. Your pulse. He didn't... he didn't come near me.”

“Good.”

“But they did...” Jonah’s voice drops. “They asked what to do with me. If they should move me downstairs. Petrov said no. He said you’d lose control if they touched me.”

My mouth curves. “That’s correct.”

Jonah's ears go pink. “Does Petrov work for your uncle?”

“He does. Petrov was the family doctor. Loyal to our name. Loyal to my father. He's been in my life longer than anyone else in this house.”

Jonah frowns. “Then why’s he doing this?”

A dry laugh catches in my chest. “Because the motherfucker backed the wrong Morozov. He thinks Sergei will reward him. My uncle doesn't share power. He hoards it.”

Jonah’s brows pull together. “Viktor, if I may... what happened? How did you end up here? I mean, like this. Your shooting was all over the news. They brought your body through the hospital. It was a closed casket. The funeral was everywhere.”

He doesn't finish the phrase. I like the way my name rolls off his tongue. He's so fucking innocent, and it makes my cock harden.

“Because he wants me here. What for, I can only imagine.

We've been enemies for years. So right now, Sergei's got me where he wants me.

I don't know when he'll strike. Or how. Hell, I'm not even sure how long we've been here.

My birthday was on November sixteenth, so I've been here since. But I've lost track of the days.”

“I haven't.” Jonah reaches for the block and pencil. His handwriting is neat. “Today’s December second. We've been here sixteen days. So what, they shot you and brought you back?”

I hesitate. That’s the part wrapped in fog. I remember Lev, Nikolai, the street. The next thing I remember I woke up here. With Jonah by my side. He leans closer. “Why? Why bring you here if they wanted you dead?”

“Oh, Sergei doesn't want me dead. He wants me weak.”

Jonah absorbs that. His fingers press into the edge of the notebook. “Until when?”

The question hangs between us like a live wire. I've got no fucking clue. I just hope that Lev and Nikolai are safe.

“That’s the point, Jonah. That’s part of the mindfuck. The not knowing.”

Jonah wets his lips. “Have you ever... thought about getting out? The room has many windows.”

I huff. “In the few instances I was conscious? Of course. But if I disappear, they won't come after me. They’ll go after the people I left behind. The ones who are close.”

His fingers curl into the sheet. “Your family.”

“Yes.” My gaze comes back to him, sharp enough that he stills. “Sergei has no loyalty to the Morozov family. Only to himself. Unlike me.”

Jonah swallows. “So... running would make it worse.”

“It would be a massacre.”

“That’s not really a choice.”

I shift closer, lowering my voice. “It is if you know how to stay dangerous. If I run, he wins. If I stay, I can still see the board. Still move pieces. Still decide who bleeds.”

Jonah’s breath hitches. I dip my mouth to his ear. “And no one in this house touches what's mine without paying for it.”

Jonah stills, his pulse jumping under my lips. He's terrified, but he's not pulling away.

“You don't take care of men like me unless you're ready for what comes with it.” Tightening my grip at the back of his neck, I pull him close. “Come here, krasavchik. Kiss me.”

“I—I shouldn't…”

His face flushes. Then he closes the distance. The moment his lips press to mine, a growl breaks out of me. “That’s it. Closer,” I command against his mouth.

Jonah nudges my lips. I open for him and wait for his tongue. It touches mine, testing. Dragging him closer by the neck, I take control. His tongue's trembling against mine, a wet contact.

Shifting my weight, I press him into the mattress, bracing my forearm against the headboard to keep the tension off my injury. His fingers fly to my shoulders, then curl in my shirt. Pushing my thigh between his, I feel his erection. His hips lift at once, seeking pressure.

"That’s it. Show me what you need."

He moves again, with more need. I slide my palm down his side and grip his hip. He jerks, his lips parting on a sound.

“Oh, god... Viktor,” he breathes out.

“Good.” My mouth brushes his ear. “Keep going.”

He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Shutting his eyes, he pushes into my thigh again, chasing friction. I press my forehead to his and watch him lose control. “Look at me. Tell me what you want, krasavchik.”

“I want... you,” he stammers.

“Then take me. All of me.”

He shivers. I kiss him again before I let my hand drift lower and slip inside his pants, growling when he whines.

“Feel good krasavchik?”

“Fuck…”

I cup him through the fabric. He's already hard and pushing into my palm. I open his pants and slip my fingers inside. His skin is hot. Hard. So fucking ready. Jonah gasps when I close my fist around his cock. “Viktor...”

“That’s it. Let me feel how bad you want it.”

I stroke him with just enough pressure to catch his breath. Jonah's head falls back. I kiss his throat, and he mewls. Licking the line under his jaw, my hand works him harder. His hips jerk, his heels digging into the mattress.

“Hm. You like that.”

“Yes—Yes, Viktor.”

I tighten my grip and his whole body responds. His cock jumps in my hand. I drag my thumb over his tip, enjoying how he chokes on a breath. “You want to come? You need it?”

His eyes flutter. “Please.”

I smirk. “So impatient.” Stroking him harder for a few slow pulls, I ease my hand and stop before he tips over. “But you'll wait.”

I lean back over him, keeping my weight caging him in. “I’m not done with you. Spread your thighs. I want to see all of you.”

He freezes for a moment. Instead of pulling back, he draws a breath and opens wider.

His cock rests against his stomach. Sliding my hand down his chest, I move lower between his thighs.

My injuries hurt, but right now, I don't care.

My cock drags over him until the head settles against the curve of his ass.

He lifts his hips right away, offering himself.

I sit back to look at him. He's a mess beneath me, skin flushed, his thighs spread wide. “Look at you. As if you were made for me.” I move my hand between his legs, my fingers finding the heat of his ass. He's already slick, his body trembling when I touch him there.

I don't give him a choice. I hook his knees over my shoulders, baring him completely.

He lets out a strangled sound, but I hold him pinned.

I lean in, my tongue finding the tight center of him.

He shouts into the mattress, his back arching so hard I hear the bed frame groan.

I rim him with a heavy pressure, tasting the fear and the want on his skin.

He starts to writhe, his hips bucking in an uneven rhythm.

A high, broken moan leaves his mouth. I don't let him hide.

I use my hands to keep his ass open, my tongue digging deeper until his cries sharpen.

He's sobbing now, his heels digging into my shoulders, his whole body caught in the friction I'm forcing.

“Viktor... oh god... please...”

“You taste divine,” I growl. I don't stop until he's a sobbing mess beneath me. I want him to know exactly who owns this part of him.

I pull back, leaving him exposed and shaking. I don't let him close his legs. I reach for the bottle on the nightstand, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Watch me, Jonah,” I command. “Watch what I'm about to do to you.”

Slicking my cock slowly, I make sure Jonah sees every inch of it.

When I slide my fingers between his cheeks, he yields.

I guide myself to his entrance and bare my teeth against his neck.

I'm hard as iron, and determined to ignore the stinging pull in my side as I drive inside with a relentless glide.

“Oh, fuck—” His head thrashes back as he takes all of me. I fill him, sinking deeper until I'm fully seated. Jonah pants and trembles. I start to move. His ass grips my cock perfectly as I thrust into him. I hook his leg higher and sink deeper, my hand white-knuckled on the headboard.

I shift my weight, spear into him again, and drive my hand down to curl my fist around his girth. I like this even better. Now I can see his face as he moans and pants with every thrust. His body arches as he reaches for his own cock, but I swat his hand away.

“This is mine,” I growl, and stroke him with the same rhythm as my hips rock into him.

I drive into him with a relentless pace. Every thrust bottoms out, pinning him into the mattress until the headboard knocks the wall. Jonah is a mess beneath me, his eyes rolled back, gasping for air. I want him to feel the full scale of me, the way my weight crushes him.

“Look at me,” I command, slamming home again. I want to see the moment his mind breaks. I want to see my mark in his pupils. He’s sobbing my name now, his fingers digging into my forearms, his body tight around me as I stretch him further.

I know I've found his prostate because his cries sharpen. “Right there…oh, fuck, Please, Viktor, don't stop.”

I pound into him harder, deeper, ignoring the flare of pain for the friction of his skin. I'm rutting into him like an animal, my teeth bared as I watch him come apart. I don't stop until he's screaming, his back arching as his cum spills across his stomach.

“Oh, fuck.” His eyes squeeze shut as he shudders, completely undone.

I pull out slowly, dragging free inch by inch.

I wipe him down carefully, wanting him to feel how pleased I am.

Pulling the blanket higher over Jonah's thighs, I sit back against the headboard, panting.

Pain flares through my entire body. Jonah shifts closer and rests his chin on my shoulder.

He lifts his head when he notices the window. “Look. It's snowing.”

I follow his gaze. Snow falls steadily. The courtyard fades under white. He tips his head toward the glass. “It hasn't snowed like this for a long time.”

I rest my hand at the back of his neck. He leans into the touch without hesitation. “The last time I recall we had snow like this, Mom was still alive.” He yawns. “Or perhaps I'm already dreaming. I'm so tired, Viktor.”

My lips curl as I stare outside. “Then sleep.”

He's already snoring softly, his breath puffing against my throat. I watch the flakes settle against the glass. The silence in the room carries a new weight. Sergei's shadow is moving, and the guards are changing.

Something in this house is shifting. I don't know the shape of the trap yet, but I know who I'm keeping when the floor falls out.