CHAPTER 19 #2
I reached the bed and gripped the edge of the mattress, my knuckles white.
“He thinks you’re a weakness. He thinks you’re a liability.
He thinks you’re just a fucking prize.” My eyes burned into hers, a silent, savage promise in their depths.
“He’s about to learn how wrong he is. He’s about to learn what a Morozov does when someone threatens what’s his. ”
Her gaze didn’t waver. A spark, a fierce, desperate light, ignited in her eyes. “And what is that, Liam?” she challenged, her voice gaining strength, echoing the steel in my own. “What does a Morozov do?”
“He obliterates them,” I rasped, my voice heavy with a dark, primal vow.
“He makes them regret the day they were born. He makes them pay in blood. And he makes them watch as their entire fucking world burns to ash.” I leaned closer, my body towering over hers, my scent, my rage, filling her space.
“But first... he reminds his woman exactly who the fuck she belongs to. And who will protect her with his last goddamn breath.”
I ripped the blanket from her hands, tossing it aside, her body exposed to my gaze.
Her skin, pale and flushed in places, was a map of our previous encounter.
The faint bruises on her neck, my bite marks on her shoulder – evidence of my fierce claiming.
Her nipples, already hard, peaked under my hungry stare.
She gasped, a small, choked sound, but she didn’t look away.
She met my gaze, fear battling with a dangerous, burgeoning desire that mirrored my own.
“Liam,” she whispered again, her hands coming up to my chest, pushing, but without real force. It was a plea, a demand, a surrender, all wrapped in one.
“You’re mine, Rose,” I snarled, my voice raw with possessive fury, as I climbed onto the bed, caging her beneath me.
Her injured foot was still propped carefully, and I was mindful of it, but every other part of her was mine for the taking.
My body covered hers, hard and heavy, pinning her to the mattress.
My hips pressed against hers, the hard ridge of my cock already thick and throbbing against her drenched leggings.
“And no one. No fucking one. Touches what’s mine. ”
I grabbed her face, cupping her jaw roughly, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. Her eyes, wide and dilated, devoured mine. Her lips, full and swollen, parted on a small gasp. My gaze dropped to them, a primal hunger twisting in my gut.
“You challenged me, little queen,” I rasped, my lips hovering inches from hers. “You pushed my limits. You walked into a den of wolves and dared to play with fire. Now you will feel the fucking burn.”
My mouth descended, crushing hers in a savage, possessive kiss that left no room for breath, for thought, for anything but the raw, brutal sensation of our mouths colliding.
My tongue invaded, plundering, devouring, tasting her desperation, her fear, her undeniable heat.
She whimpered, a soft, broken sound, her hands rising, clinging to my shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscle beneath my shirt, a silent plea for more, for less, for anything but this agonizing pleasure.
I tore my mouth from hers, my lips tracing a path down her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. My teeth scraped against her skin, leaving hot, stinging marks, claiming her, branding her. Her head fell back against the pillow, her body arching, already trembling, already desperate.
“You want to be a partner?” I growled against her skin, my voice thick with lust and dark purpose. “You want to be a queen? Then you will learn what it means to be claimed. To be owned. To be protected. And you will feel my fucking dominance every single inch of the way.”
My hand ripped open her leggings, tearing the fabric, exposing her slick, wet pussy to my hungry gaze.
She was already swollen, already throbbing, already aching for me.
The sight of her raw, aroused vulnerability, amidst the chaos of war, only fueled my hunger, my need to possess her completely, to make her forget everything but me.
“Please, Liam,” she gasped, her voice raw, begging, pleading.
I plunged into her then, a single, deep thrust that made her cry out, her body arching, slamming against mine.
The raw sensation was agonizingly exquisite, a perfect fit, a violent claiming that was both punishing and profoundly intimate.
She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me impossibly closer, her nails digging into my back as she met my thrusts with equal, desperate ferocity.
Her head tossed from side to side, her hair a wild, tangled mess against the white sheets.
Her moans mingled with my grunts, a symphony of raw, untamed passion that filled the room, making it ours.
“Fuck me,” she begged, her voice hoarse, broken. “Fuck me until I can’t think. Until I can’t breathe. Just... you. Always you.”
I obliged, slamming into her, harder and faster, driving her to the brink, watching her eyes roll back in her head as she convulsed around me, her climax ripping through her body, her screams echoing in the room.
I followed quickly, my own orgasm a violent, shuddering release that emptied me into her, branding her with my seed, with my possession, with my undeniable claim.
We lay there, tangled and spent, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing ragged.
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with the aftermath of our violent union, the undeniable truth of our volatile connection.
I rolled onto my side, pulling her against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
My fingers tangled in her damp hair, stroking, soothing, the last vestiges of my rage slowly dissipating, replaced by a fierce, protective resolve.
“He will regret it,” I murmured against her temple, my voice rough, my heart still hammering against my ribs.
“Konstantin Volkov will regret the day he dared to threaten my woman. And you, moya roza,” I tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at me, her eyes still heavy-lidded with spent passion, “you will stand by my side. My queen. My fire. And together, we will burn his fucking empire to the ground.”
She nodded, her body still trembling slightly, her hand finding mine, our fingers intertwining. “Together,” she whispered, her voice still a little shaky, but firm with renewed purpose. “We burn him.”
The war was far from over. Konstantin had drawn a line in the sand, directly threatening what was mine.
But he had also ignited a firestorm, awakening a deeper, more brutal resolve in me, and forging an unbreakable bond with the woman who now lay in my arms. The storm was coming, but we would face it together.
And we would be the fucking eye of it, ready to tear everything apart.