CHAPTER 18 #2
“My name,” he growled, his head dipping, his lips brushing against my ear.
“Say it again. Like you mean it.” His hand slid from my wrist, tracing the curve of my hip, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh of my inner thigh, just above my knee.
A searing heat bloomed between my legs, a desperate, undeniable clench.
Even here, in the cold, dark depths of the earth, he knew how to make my body betray me.
“Liam,” I whispered, my voice barely a thread, my legs trembling.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his breath hot against my neck, sending shivers through me. “Remember that. Remember who you belong to. Who brought you here. Who will drag you out.” His words were a brutal reminder, a carnal threat.
He squeezed my thigh, his fingers digging in, and then, with a sharp, unexpected movement, he pushed me back against the cold, rough wall of the tunnel.
My head hit the stone with a dull thud, but the pain was distant, eclipsed by the sudden rush of adrenaline, the raw, aggressive shift in his demeanor.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you, moya roza?
” he snarled, his eyes dark, glittering with a dangerous fire.
His body pressed against mine, hip to hip, chest to chest, pinning me, making me acutely aware of his power, his dominance, even with his injuries.
I could feel the hard ridge of his cock, already straining against his tactical pants, thick and unyielding against my own burning core.
“I am smart,” I retorted, my voice defiant, though my breath hitched.
“Too smart for your own damn good,” he growled, his lips descending, crashing onto mine.
The kiss was brutal, possessive, a desperate claiming that stole my breath and scorched my soul.
His tongue plunged into my mouth, mimicking the penetration I craved, devouring, tasting, claiming every inch of my defiance.
My hands, instinctively, flew to his chest, pushing, but the protest was weak, half-hearted.
I wanted to fight him. I should. But my body, always, betrayed me.
He pulled back, just barely, his gaze burning into mine. “Every step you take in this tunnel, every breath you draw, is mine. You’re here because of me. You’ll survive because of me. And you’ll pleasure me because you’re mine. Do you understand, Rose?”
“Fuck you,” I spat, but the words were weak, choked by the raw desire that clawed at my throat.
A dangerous smile, full of predatory hunger, spread across his lips.
“Later. When this is over. For now, you obey. You lead. And you keep that pretty little head on a swivel.” His hand, rough and commanding, slid between my legs, pushing against the crotch of my tactical pants, pressing hard against my throbbing clit, even through the layers of fabric.
A gasp tore from my throat, a choked sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
“You’re wet for me, aren’t you, Rose?” he whispered, his voice thick with triumph, his thumb grinding mercilessly against the sensitive flesh. “Even in this hellhole. Even when I’m bleeding. You want me. You always want me.”
My body trembled, a violent shudder running through me. He was right. Goddamn him. He was always right. My cunt was aching, throbbing, desperate for his touch, for his brutal claiming.
“Stop,” I whispered, but my hips instinctively bucked against his hand.
“Not yet, moya roza,” he growled, pulling his hand away, leaving me aching and frustrated.
“Not until Volkov is bleeding at my feet. Then... then we’ll see how much you can take.
” He pushed off the wall, his gaze still burning into mine, a promise of exquisite torment.
“Now. Lead the way. Your little tunnel rat king is waiting.”
My legs were shaky, my head still swimming from his brutal assault on my senses.
But the defiance, the burning need to prove him wrong, to survive this, pulsed through me.
I swallowed, forced myself to focus. This was it.
This was our descent into Volkov’s lair.
And I would drag Liam Morozov out, alive or dead.
My hand tightened on the pistol, the cold steel a reminder of the grim reality.
“This way,” I said, my voice hoarse, pointing the flashlight down a slightly wider, more fortified passage. “According to the schematics, this leads to the lower levels. The main command center. And Volkov’s personal chambers.”
We moved on, deeper into the earth, deeper into Volkov’s fortress.
The tunnels became more elaborate, more modern.
Reinforced steel doors appeared, some rusted shut, others bearing the marks of recent activity.
I could hear the faint, distant hum of machinery now, the subtle thrum of electricity. We were close. Dangerously close.
My heart hammered, but a strange calm had settled over me.
The fear was still there, a cold knot in my gut, but it was overshadowed by a fierce resolve.
Liam was behind me, his silent presence a constant pressure, a constant reminder of our twisted pact.
We were two animals, slithering through the dark, hunting prey that thought itself untouchable.
We reached a junction, a wider, circular chamber with several paths branching off. Heavy steel doors, some hermetically sealed, lined the walls. This was a central hub. My flashlight beam swept over ancient control panels, flickering with faint, almost dead indicator lights.
“This is it,” I whispered, my voice barely audible above the hum. “Volkov’s inner sanctum. The main command center should be through here.” I pointed to a massive, reinforced door, emblazoned with a faded, peeling Soviet-era emblem.
Liam nodded, his face grim, his hand going to his silenced Glock.
He signaled the men behind us, and they fanned out, taking defensive positions.
The air crackled with a palpable tension, thick and suffocating.
This was the moment. The culmination of months of planning, of blood, of pain, of desperate, forbidden desire.
He looked at me, his eyes dark, dangerous, but holding a strange, almost tender glint. “You did good, moya roza,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp that sent shivers through me. “Now, let’s go kill a rat.”
He raised his foot, bringing it down with brutal force against the lock mechanism of the old door. The steel groaned, shrieked, then gave way with a deafening crack. He kicked the door open, revealing a glimpse of a brightly lit corridor beyond.
The sounds of distant shouts, of running feet, reached us. Volkov knew we were here.
Liam didn’t hesitate. He plunged into the corridor, his Glock raised, a dark angel of vengeance. I followed, my heart pounding, my pistol gripped tight.
This was it. The belly of the beast. And we were coming for blood.