Chapter 16
Lisichka
Hunter stalked through the halls, blood running hot, hands still trembling from what he’d almost done. His room lay at the end of the north wing, far from the others and exactly how he needed it.
The heavy oak door slammed behind him.
Home. It was a sanctuary as much as a predator’s den.
Exposed wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, dark as old blood. The walls were made of raw stone, interrupted only by a massive window that overlooked the frozen forest. No curtains so he could see any threats coming head-on.
The only one he missed approaching was the little blonde currently testing his control. Stalking to the window, he stared out at the choppy sea, wondering how anyone so fragile could manage that on the scrap wood she called a boat.
But she wasn’t fragile was she? There was something determined under that ultra-feminine surface. A survivor. Maybe even a moral compass. The longer she was here, the harder it became to form a connection between her and Jordan Calder. She was nothing like her filthy brother.
He gripped the thick custom-built bed frame that dominated the adjacent wall. A hand-carved bear faced growled back at him with a lethal stare. His gaze dropped to the black sheets and pelts.
He’d gotten too close. Shared too much. He should have never given her that book. The language barrier was a form of protection, a wall she couldn’t penetrate, and he’d just given her the fucking key.
What did it matter if she wanted to learn Russian? Why did that trigger some endearing response in him? She was a thief and the sister of his enemy. She was not to be trusted.
Speaking of which, he withdrew his phone and opened the surveillance app, scrolling through the various feeds to search for her. She was no longer in the library.
He dropped into the leather chair that faced the fireplace, worn smooth from years of sleepless nights, he propped his booted feet on the bearskin carpet and used the tracking filter to find any movement.
The servants were downstairs, existing like silent shadows.
Katya was reading a book, safely tucked away in her private wing.
Ash was seeing to Stone’s aftercare—Ah… There she was, in the kitchen.
He watched as she snatched an open bottle of wine and carried it out. Tracking her journey, he fed his twisted obsession with her a little longer.
Lisichka. He’d called her little fox. The word had escaped before he could cage it, soft and possessive and entirely too revealing.
The motion sensors tracked her path from the kitchen to the bedroom they assigned to her. He should stop. He didn’t need to see anymore. He’d seen enough. The way she’d looked at him, hungry and trusting and a threat to every fucking wall he’d built around himself.
Instead, he sank deeper into the chair and watched her infiltrate his private home like she belonged there.
Her ease bothered him. How dare she feel so entitled to their personal domain.
She had no clue how deeply the three of them valued their privacy and how privileged she was to earn an invitation during off-hours.
The only reason he agreed to let her stay was because he believed in keeping friends few and far between while keeping enemies close enough to kill.
Shutting herself into the bedroom, she pressed her back against the door and twisted the gilded lock with trembling fingers. Did that make her feel safe? Little did she know he had every key.
Her body language lacked the confidence she exhibited over the last hour.
Now, she appeared shaky and nervous. A clever little fox on the run from a big scary predator, running back to her foxhole because she wanted to feel safe again.
From him. From this world she’d thrown herself into with zero caution.
Foolish little fox, signing over her soul and committing to things she couldn’t imagine.
That thin piece of wood wouldn’t protect her from any of them. Nothing could.
She tilted the bottle back, her throat working as she swallowed several gulps. She appeared just as triggered as him by their last encounter.
Wine dripped down her chin as she pulled the mouth of the bottle away and gasped. She wiped her full lips with the back of her hand. No grace, no performance. Just a raw glimpse of her true state. A woman unraveling.
He’d done that to her.
No, she’d done that to him.
Hunter had sought the library for solitude but found her instead, curled up like she belonged there. The earnest frustration on her face as she tried to meld two of the most challenging languages in the world stirred something familiar and forgotten inside of him.
Those lost memories slammed into him hard enough to recognized the need in her eyes, that desperation to adapt and fit in, to survive. It was the first time he saw traits in her that resonated with him.
And that subtle connection carved straight through his walls.
He’d been there. He recalled his own frustration, fear, and doubt from a time when he needed to make the best of a difficult situation.
He’d struggled with the language, worried the words might never make sense.
But he needed to learn English. His survival depended on it.
Like hers. Only she needed to learn Russian.
Now, she was doing the same. She wasn’t playing games or drifting through the days here with naive trust. She was calculating angles. Strategizing. And he admired her effort.
She could have gone to the sauna or swam in the pool. She could have leisurely read a novel or watched television. The atrium was beautiful for indoor walks. But no. She’d used her free time to better her situation, asking nothing of anyone else, and taking the initiative all on her own.
And damn it all to hell, that told him more about the kind of woman she was than anything else so far.
“Resourceful little fox,” he muttered, webbing his fingers over the screen of his phone to better read the expression on her face.
She set the book on the nightstand with careful reverence, fingers lingering on the cover.
His chest tightened. That book had been his lifeline once.
His loyalty toward Ash was cemented in that uphill battle as his good friend patiently taught him word by painful word as the world burned down around them.
He owed Ash an apology for the other day. He’d been out of sorts and unwilling to accept that they might benefit to having the sister of Jordan Calder in their home. Seeing Ash touch her…it unlocked emotions in Hunter he wasn’t in the mood to face, and Ash walked face first into his fury.
Hunter was still debating if he could trust her, but the longer she stayed the thoughts of punishing her for her brother’s crimes made less and less sense.
Marigold disappeared into the bathroom and he switched camera views. The wine bottle sat abandoned on the dressing table.
He should look away but he didn’t. He clicked to the lens angled at the claw-footed tub. He zoomed in on her face, noting the divot between her cinched brows. Her motions appeared frantic and flustered, as if she were on the verge of tears.
She stripped off the long socks and skin-tight dress with urgent movements, not sensual but desperate. He frowned, wondering why she appeared so agitated.
As the tub filled, she stepped into the shower alcove. Confused, he switched lenses again. Clouds of steam made it difficult to see as she scrubbed at her skin under the shower spray. Nothing happened between them, yet she seemed to be washing a memory away.
Did he disgust her so much that the mere thought of him almost touching her needed to be scrubbed from her skin?
His jaw clenched. She’d been the one to lean into him. Those big brown eyes begging for him to taste her. Or so he’d thought.
He went back to the library feed and rewound, stopping at the moment she edged closer. Yes. It was there. Clear as day. So why was she furiously washing away her sins?
Holding his thumb on the reverse control, he sped backwards through their interaction. Then it was just her, sitting in the library, sipping her wine. Peaceful. Alone.
Where had she come from?
He followed the cameras, retracing her steps. As she walked in reverse through the hall, her expression appeared distressed. She looked back and chewed her lip. Through the kitchen, where she’d stolen the wine. Back, back, back he followed until—”Bingo.”
She’d walked in on one of Stone’s sessions.
He replayed the brief encounter, turning up the volume to hear what she said to Ash.
She thought he was hurting Stone, but Hunter knew better.
Stone needed weekly sessions to keep his demons at bay.
They all had secret coping mechanisms that ensured they didn’t snap in mixed company. The whip was part of Stone’s.
He went back to the camera in her bathroom, returning to the present feed.
The shower shut off. She wrapped herself in a towel and padded to the bathtub.
Steam rose from the taps, fogging the mirror, but the overhead camera caught everything.
The way she sank into the water with a sigh made him question if he’d ever know such comfort.
Her eyes fluttered closed as the heated water embraced her. She appeared calmer now. Serene even. Had she washed him out of her system that easily?
She used her toe to adjust the taps, turning the rushing water off. He zoomed in as she closed her eyes again. Those lips… Even as she’d butchered his mother language, he’d been enchanted by her mouth, watching her pink tongue caress every syllable as she took instruction from him so well.
If he’d kissed her in the library, with those beautiful Russian vowels still on her tongue and his fingers caressing her pulse, he would have taken her there on the floor. Would have made her scream his name in both languages until she understood the only word that mattered.
Moy. Mine.
But she wasn’t his. Couldn’t be. Not when rage still poisoned his blood every time he looked at her. Not when he didn’t know if he wanted to worship her or—
Her hand drifted beneath the water’s surface.
Fuck.
Hunter adjusted the intercom controls, turning the volume all the way up so he could hear her soft breathing over the gentle lapping of water.
He should shut it off. Should walk away. He could bury himself in a hundred beautiful women at a moment’s notice. He just had to make a call. But every other option held no appeal. He only craved one woman, and she was his enemy’s blood.
Her breath hitched, barely audible through the speakers. Her other hand gripped the tub’s edge as her body arched subtly. Beautiful. Hungry. Alone.
Like him.
The water lapped gently with her movements. Her lips parted on a silent gasp, and he found himself leaning closer, chasing sounds too quiet to catch. Wanting to know if she thought of his hands or someone else’s.
He’d purposely put his mouth close to her ear earlier, whispering words he’d never said to another woman. Ya ne mogu dyshat’ bez tebya.
He’d done it to get a better whiff of her hair and to see how her eyes might dilate. She didn’t disappoint, and he’d instantly sat back, taking the book to hide how her response to his nearness made him instantly hard.
Her breathing quickened again. The little thief was stealing an orgasm. In all the excitement, they’d forgotten to set that rule, so he supposed this was fine.
He watched, unblinking, as her reach shifted deeper and her narrow shoulder lifted ever so delicately.
Close now.
So close.
Her head tipped back against the porcelain, exposing the column of her throat where his fingers had pressed. Where her pulse had hammered under his touch.
Then, soft as snowfall, she whispered, “Hunter…”
The world stopped, and his phone creaked under the weight of his crushing grip. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. That was his name on her lips as she came undone.
His name, like a prayer.
Or was it a confession.
He didn’t care. It was his name. She breathed it out as if she could taste him on the mere sound.
Hunter’s thumb jammed into the power button and his screen went black. “Fuck me.”
But the damage was done. She’d shown her cards.
He’d thought she was washing away his touch, but that wasn’t it at all. She was doing exactly what he’d ordered her to do. She was getting clean for him.
He growled and pressed his palms against his eyes until he saw stars, but he could still see her. Still hear her raspy voice as she called his name.
“Fuck!” He was on his feet and out the door before he could remember why this was a bad idea. At the moment, the few rules he kept were lost and he had no desire to find them. He only needed to find her.