Chapter 21
Max
Nika’s off guard, shaken by the sight of the Makarov. I could threaten her. Act like the monster. Except even now, she’s defiant, staring at the gun in my hand as if she doubts reality.
Threats don’t intimidate people like her. People who’ve constructed walls so high that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be touched, to be challenged by an equal, let alone a better.
I unlock Nika’s handcuffs and yank her from the bed. Acting quickly to keep her off-balance, I wrestle her arms behind her back and zip-tie them again before I push her out of her room.
The heat of the fireplace will help with what I’m about to do.
She barely has an opportunity to protest when I plunk her down in the armchair closest to the fire.
“Tell me about this place.” Starting off with simple and mundane questions will get her used to answering when the time comes for the more pressing queries. “Why here? Why a fortress on a mountain?”
She blinks, subtly eyeing the weapon I’m still wielding. “Privacy.”
“From whom?”
“Everyone.” She rotates her shoulders in an effort to get comfortable with her arms behind her back.
My ankle begs for reprieve, so I pull the other chair around and sit close enough that our knees touch. “How long have you lived here?”
She shrugs. “A while.”
“With Dimitri?” That’s another throwaway question since I already know the answer.
Her jaw tightens just a fraction, and I know I’ve struck a nerve.
I’ll keep digging. “What is he to you?”
She stays silent, her face carefully blank.
I’m starting to think if this woman just talked, we could come to some kind of understanding. Instead, she’s full of her own self-importance and grand schemes.
“What kind of sick, perverted psycho do you have to be to think up the treasure hunt you’ve had us running for the last year?”
She kicks out, aiming for my bad ankle. I lift my leg so her foot whistles through empty air. Then I lean forward, invading her space. She rears back just as fast.
A sudden idea hits me.
Maybe it’s exhaustion, or the days of watching her body respond despite her mind’s resistance. Could just be simple desperation. But I understand traditional interrogation won’t work with someone so fanatical. It would only reinforce her fucked-up reasoning for hating the Bratva.
Time to try a different tactic. “We’re going to play a game, Nika.”
A shiver starts at her shoulders and travels down her spine.
Before she has time to react, I drop to my knees in front of her chair. This way, I can control her legs and torture her at the same time.
Her breath hitches. Under my hands, both knees jerk involuntarily.
“I’m going to ask you questions.” My fingertips brush the waistband of her leggings. “Every time you don’t answer, I’m going to edge you.”
“What?” The word comes out as a pant, fear and desire mingled together so thoroughly that she can’t separate them.
Her reaction fuels my determination. Heat courses through me, my cock already stiff despite my pain and fatigue.
I hook my fingers under her leggings and tug them off.
For once, she doesn’t fight me. In fact, she lifts up slightly. Her eyes stay locked on my hands as I drag her underwear past her knees, to her ankles, and off. For an extra bit of flair, I toss them across the room.
They land on the pile of books.
“Just answer my questions, and you’ll get off.” I run my hands back up her toned legs, finishing where I started.
Her mouth clamps shut, her lips trembling and her eyes wide with uncertainty. This side of Nika’s so different from the woman who jumped me in a parking garage and fought me on several occasions. Some sick, twisted part of me enjoys her trepidation just as much as I enjoyed fighting her.
Her thighs spread an inch or two.
I smile, dark satisfaction flooding through me.
She spies my reaction and narrows her eyes. “So you’re going to show me a good time ’til I spill my guts? That’s your plan?” Though her voice mocks me, a tremor ripples along her thighs.
“Mm-hmm.” I caress her legs, my thumbs meeting in the middle. I take my time, relishing the smooth skin over the toned muscle underneath.
“Bring it on, big boy.” Her high, breathy laugh, tinged with an undertone of anxiety, clues me in that she’s nervous despite her bravado.
“I bet you crack and give in before I do.” She’s taunting me, trying to act like she’s the one in charge.
“You’re going to have to chop some more firewood in the snow to calm down. ”
I tighten my hands on her thighs, my fingers digging in just enough to elicit a sharp gasp. “When did you move here?”
She remains silent, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Funny how she wasn’t nervous when I was the one bound to a chair.
I lean forward and push her thighs apart. She doesn’t fight me, but unfortunately for her, she’s not getting what she wants. I’m going to make her beg.
I brush my mouth against her inner thigh, barely above the knee. The skin twitches as soon as I touch her.
“How long have you been planning this? The infiltration. The revenge.” I trace upward with my tongue.
Her muscles go rigid, but her mouth remains clamped shut.
“What is Dimitri to you?” My lips drift toward the tender skin where thigh meets hip. I bite down with just enough pressure that she squirms. To get her to understand what I could do if I wanted.
Her responding gasps mix with the crackle of the fire.
“How did you track the Kozlovs?”
She shakes her head, pink suffusing her cheeks.
Damn, she’s beautiful.
While unwanted, I can’t deny the truth of the thought.
Back to less important matters. “Why do you grow all those roses in the greenhouse? All those plants and herbs?” I spread her wider, revealing pink flesh that glistens for me.
She bites her cheek, struggling to stay quiet. I guess she’s starting to catch on to how this will work.
I hunch forward and stroke her with my tongue.
Her eyes flutter shut. “Oh my god.”
“No, Nika. It’s just me. Max. But you can call me ‘god’ if you’d like. You’re doing wonders for my ego.” I lick her again in a long, punishing swipe.
She’s so fucking sweet, I nearly lose my mind. I’ve never had a sweet tooth before, but for her, I might develop one.
When her hips buck against my mouth, I pull back a few inches. “The flowers in the greenhouse. Answer me, Nika.”
“Fuck you.” The curse comes out strangled, broken by need. She trembles, her chest shuddering with her breaths.
My thumb circles but doesn’t quite touch her clit. “Why do you hate Roman?” I press on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
She nearly rises off the chair.
I put my mouth back on her. This time, I don’t hold back. With a slow drag, I lick from the bottom of her opening to the clit, where I stop and give a few fast flicks. She groans through gritted teeth.
I struggle to wrench myself away and focus on the task at hand. “Why do you want Roman dead?”
Her head falls back, exposing her throat.
Smiling, I nip the edge of her lip.
She squeals, clenching and bouncing in the seat.
Apparently, she enjoys a little pain with her pleasure.
“Tell me about Roman.” Lightly grinding my teeth, I work her delicate flesh while she squirms. “Tell me what he did. Tell me why you want him dead.”
She can barely speak through her heavy breaths. “He… He killed…” She clamps her mouth shut.
She’s stronger than I gave her credit for, and I’m exhausted, which only drives me to finish this sooner. I can’t stop now, though. Can’t let her see that I’m operating on nothing but fumes, fury, and the stubborn refusal to surrender. “We’re going again until you answer.”
Ignoring her clit, I reach up and pinch one nipple, then the other through her shirt.
Nika squeals again, her toes tapping on the floor and her hips thrusting right into my waiting hand.
She spears herself on my finger and moans, her back arched, her wide eyes locked on the ceiling.
Holding my hand still, I lean up to whisper in her ear. “What happened on Isla de Huesos that turned you against the Kozlovs?”
“Bite me.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than that.” I wiggle my finger inside her. “But only if you answer my questions.”
She shoves her hips forward, striving to get me deeper. I allow the action but remain still. She’s left slightly impaled, but she’s getting no relief from the contact.
“Tell me, Nika.”
“Fuck…you.”
“I think what you meant to say was, ‘Please fuck me.’” I add another finger and give her a second to adjust to the minute stretch. “What happened to turn you against the Kozlovs?”
She clenches around me, and her whole body shudders.
I pull away.
With a frustrated growl, she collapses back in the chair and glares at me, a tear sliding down her cheek.
I rock back on my heels, slowly stroking her with featherlight touches. Maybe, if she’s nice enough, I’ll let her fuck herself on my fingers.
But she’s not getting the real deal until she answers all my questions.