Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
KOSTYA
" I f you make a scene, the only thing you’ll accomplish will be the death of innocent people."
Her body tightened with a sharp intake of breath.
Good. That got her attention.
"Fine," she spat, all defiance laced with venom.
But I heard the hesitation beneath it, felt the war waging in her muscles.
I spun her in my grip, pressing her in front of me, my fingers settling firm on her shoulder. From a distance, we could have passed for lovers. Just another couple weaving through the train. But my fingers dug in, pressing against the delicate bones beneath her jacket.
A warning. A leash.
She moved stiffly, her breath shallow, her steps sluggish.
I nudged her forward, forcing her to keep pace.
"Where are you taking me?" Her whisper barely cut through the steady clatter of the train on the tracks .
"Somewhere more private." I let my grip tighten, fingers flexing against her. "Where we can talk."
"And if I don’t want to talk?"
I didn’t answer.
She already knew she had no choice.
We wove through the train, past drowsy passengers and bored attendants. By the time we reached the first-class sleeping cars, she had gone quiet, her hair veiling her face.
Hiding her anger?
Or her fear?
Neither would save her.
I pushed open the cabin door and shoved her inside, harder than necessary.
She stumbled forward, catching herself against the railing over the narrow upper bunk before spinning to face me, chest heaving.
I took my time sealing us in, closing the door with deliberate slowness. The soft click of the lock sliding into place sent a visible shiver over her limbs. I drew the thick curtain tight, fastening it securely.
No witnesses. No interruptions.
Just her and me.
I slid my jacket off, leaning against the door and crossed my arms over my chest, watching her. Letting her absorb the reality of her situation.
Trapped.
"What’s in New York?" I asked, my voice deceptively calm.
Her chin lifted, green eyes blazing up at me from where she’d taken a seat on the narrow lower bed with a shrug. “I hear the Statue of Liberty is fun.”
Stubborn little thing. My hands gripped the smooth metal rod as I leaned over her trembling form. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes, babygirl?”
Fuck, she looked beautiful.
Fear had given a sweet rosy blush to her cheeks and animated her already wide, stunning green eyes. Her full lips parted just enough to drag in a shaking breath, drawing my gaze.
I could already picture those same full lips stretched open around the hard length of my cock as I held on tight to her hair, which was still tousled and wild from the last time I had my fist wrapped around her silky locks.
She squared her shoulders, which only served to push out her breasts; peeking through the open zipper of her jacket and the edges of her shawl, they were easily seen through the thin sweater she wore. Dammit. She shouldn’t be running through the fucking streets of Chicago at night in the middle of winter with only a thin, imitation leather jacket.
Feeling the force of my gaze, she closed the sides of her jacket while wrapping her arms over her chest. “I thought I could disappear there.”
My hand curled into a fist in my struggle to control my anger. I really fucking hated being lied to, but I especially hated hearing lies from my little rabbit’s lips. It made me want to haul her over my lap and spank the truth out of her. “Bullshit.”
She closed her eyes briefly at the sharp bark of my response. Refusing to meet my gaze, she fired back, “That’s my answer. Don’t blame me if you don’t like it.”
I snatched her chin and forced her head up. “Do you have any idea how much danger you are in right now?”
Her gaze shifted to the door behind me then back.
My mouth curved into a slow smile. I leaned in lower, my breath mingling with hers. “Go ahead. I dare you.”
Her lower lip trembled as her gaze shifted once more to the door then back.
Part of me silently encouraged her. Do it, babygirl. Give me a reason.
She lifted her head, breaking my hold. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bully?”
“All the time.” Though usually it was more that I was a demon sent from hell to torment them, but sure, bully worked too.
She lowered her head.
If I had a heart, it would have broken at the soft, defeated sound of her sigh.
I wanted to take her into my arms and tell her that she was safe, that there was no more reason to run…but I didn’t.
It was a false promise.
She wasn’t safe with me.
I might be able to protect her from Solovyov and his intentions but in this moment, locked in this small room, she had a far more pressing danger threatening her…me.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What happens now?”
I rose to my full height and leaned back against the door again. Less temptation. “What happens now is you answer my questions.”
Her fingers twisted on her lap. “And if I can’t?”
“You mean if you won’t?”
She glanced up at me, peering out from behind a curtain of silky blonde hair, a spark of defiance in her eyes. “If I won’t…”
I rubbed my hand over my abdomen as my shaft lengthened. It was game time. “Well, moy zaichonok , you and I have twenty hours alone in this room."
I let the words press into her. Let her feel them settle like shackles on her wrists.
"There are several ways we could spend that time," I continued, tilting my head. I let my gaze drag down her body, slow and assessing, watching how her fingers twisted into the hem of her sweater. "Some…are far more pleasant than others."
Her cheeks hollowed as she clenched her jaw, appearing to physically swallow a bratty retort.
At her continued silence, I pushed off from the door and let my hand drop to my belt, fingers unfastening the buckle with slow precision. The metal clinked in the silence.
She sucked in a sharp breath. "What are you doing?"
I pulled the belt free, sliding it slowly from the loops, letting the leather whisper against the fabric. Folding it in half, I ran my fingers down its length before snapping it through the air.
A sharp, deliberate crack.
She flinched. Not in fear. Something else .
"You can't do anything to me," she said, voice trembling, cracking.
A lie.
We both knew it.
I took a step forward, the belt still loosely looped in my hand. "Can't I?"
Tossing the belt aside, I reached for her, grabbing her hair with one hand and lifting her off the bed to drag her over to the window.
The city lights were nothing more than an indistinct shimmer in the reflection. "Look at it," I murmured, my breath hot against her cheek. "That is civilization in the far distance. Now you are only surrounded by darkness.”
I also had slipped the bonds of civilization.
Alone in the tense stillness of this train cabin, she and I were the only animals left on the planet. I no longer gave a damn about what was right or wrong. All thoughts of decency and morality had been burned away in my anger and lust. The resulting embers glowed with a primal drive to claim and conquer.
Her body jerked, but I tightened my grasp on her hair before tearing the leather jacket off her shoulders and down her arms. The Russian shawl I noticed in her room floated to the floor at her feet. She was left in her sweater and jeans.
“Put your hands on the window.”
“What are you?—”
“Do it,” I growled.
I had reached my fucking limit. All the fear, all the worry that had built up inside of me over these months of chasing her had come to a boiling point in my blood, churning into a toxic, obsessive need.
Releasing her hair, I spread my hand over her stomach, pressing her back against me until her ass brushed my already hard cock. With my other hand, I flicked the button of her jeans open.
Her hand flew to cover mine. “What the?—”
I brushed her hand aside and lowered the zipper.
“Kostya, you can’t?—”
Before she could even get the objection past her sweet lips, I’d yanked the jeans down over her hips. Using my arm around her middle, I lifted her off the floor and kicked them and her canvas sneakers out of the way. My hand then slid up her back to wrap around her throat from behind.
The middle finger of my free hand hooked the back of the red thong where it nestled between her ass cheeks. “What the fuck is this, Marina?” I growled, snapping the fabric back into place.
The only reason a woman would wear a red thong was for a man. Earlier today she had on a pair of simple blue silk panties.
She breathed heavily. “They’re just panties.”
My hand gripped her left ass cheek and squeezed. “Which dead man are you wearing these for?”
She rose on her toes. “No one.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, babygirl, because I’ll find the man and snap his fucking neck.”
It had better not be one of the pasty fuckers she was living with.
Perhaps it was why she was fleeing to New York .
Was she racing into the arms of another man?
Did I have a right to be so jealous? No.
Was that going to stop me? Fuck no.
Her fingers clawed at the hand I had around her throat. “There is no one, Kostya, no one.”
My arm stretched out and snatched the discarded belt from the bed. In the tight confines of the room, I had to shift my body to the side, keeping a hand on her throat. With a tight grip on the buckle and the leather strap, I raised my bent arm high and swept it down over her flesh.
The first strike landed clean, a perfect pink stripe across her exposed ass cheek.
She cried out in shock and pain.
I shifted my hand from her throat to cover her mouth, careful not to block her nose so she could still breathe. The last thing I needed was some nosy passenger or train employee banging on the door asking questions. Especially since, given the mood I was in right now, I’d be more likely to fire a bullet through the door than to answer.
The belt lashed her delicate flesh again. And again.
Each time, her body squirmed and writhed in my embrace as her hands clawed at my forearm. Her ass cheeks clenched in anticipation of the next strike.
“Push out your hips and unclench your cheeks or I’ll throw you on that bed and whip your pussy instead.”
Her tears wet the back of my hand as she obeyed.
The moment her slender back arched and she pushed the sweet curves of her ass out, I whipped her with my belt .
Again, she screamed and cried against the palm of my hand.
I dragged the leather down the center of her back, over the welt blooming on her right cheek. My hand came off her mouth. “Are you going to tell me what I need to know, moy zaichonok ?”
She sniffed as her tearstained eyes flashed in defiance. “Fuck you.”
I huffed out a low, dark laugh. "Not yet."
The next strike was harder. A delicious sound tore from her throat, something caught between pain and pleasure. Her hips rolled, just the faintest tilt. Seeking.
I was certain she didn’t even fully understand how her body was responding to the punishment; it was evident in the next words she spoke, ground out through clenched teeth. “I hate you.”
"You can say you hate me all you want," I mused, running my fingers over her hot skin. "But your body tells a different story."
She trembled, hands flexing at her sides. Clearly, she wanted to push me away but couldn’t bring herself to.
I tossed the belt onto the bed and switched to my palm. The belt hurt more, left deeper marks. But my hand let me feel the heat I’d coaxed from her flesh.
My palm met her skin in a sharp slap. Her body jerked, then melted. A low moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it. She clapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks burning.
I grinned, dragging her back against me, letting her feel the proof of exactly how much she affected me. I rubbed the hard ridge of my cock through my trousers against her sore flesh.
She trembled, but her silence told me everything I needed to know.
I slid my hand back around her throat, forcing her gaze to meet mine in the dark reflection of the window. "One last chance. Tell me what’s in New York."
Her breath hitched.
I could feel the exact moment she decided.
"Go to hell," she whispered.
I laughed, low and dark, my grip tightening as I brushed my lips against the rapid pulse in her throat, a ghost of a touch. “Oh, babygirl. You should know by now, I’m already there.”
A threat. A promise.
I sank my teeth into her delicate earlobe. “And now…you're coming with me."