Chapter 8
Selene
I got lucky tonight.
The bastard responsible for my kidnapping was right in front of me, staring at me with the same shocked expression I had when I spotted him. But unlike him, I adapted fast. He was coming with me—alive.
I had already taken down most of his men patrolling the area. Now, soaked in blood, I stood face-to-face with him and five others.
Well… four now.
The last one had been dumb enough to charge me, and I slit his throat before he could blink.
“Cat got your tongue, big man?” I taunt, tilting my head, my dagger dripping red. “Or is your life flashing before your eyes?”
The Wraith’s signature sadistic smile hasn’t left my face since this all started, and I’m over the moon with the bloodshed.
His nostrils flare. “You’re going to get what’s coming to you, whether you take me out now or not.” His roar lacks the terror I crave.
Jesus. This guy is a walking cliché. The villains in my books are more terrifying.
Bored of the slow escalation, I lift my gun and pull the trigger.
Right between the eyes.
Not his—his goon’s.
All hell breaks loose.
The remaining two charge me. The first swings for my head—I drop to my knees, slicing my dagger across his shin, feeling the blade bite through muscle and tendon. He screams, stumbling and dropping to the ground, but the second one is faster.
A fist yanks my hair, wrenching my head back before I’m hurled against the wall. My head cracks against it, and I slide down onto my side.
“You know, only women pull hair,” I rasp, grinning up at him. “So, it’s fair to say—you fight like a bitch.”
My manic laughter pulls him closer as I adjust my body position.
Right where I need him.
The moment he steps into range, I strike, sweeping my leg out. My heel connects with his knee, and he collapses with a grunt.
I lunge, slamming my fist into his jaw, then his ribs—once, twice—before he roars and rolls us over, pinning me beneath his weight.
Thick, meaty hands wrap around my throat.
I gasp, spots dotting my vision as he squeezes.
I can hear the other one limping closer, his gun cocking.
Fuck.
“She’s not to be killed!” Big man shouts.
With the last of my air, I snap my forehead forward, colliding with my attacker’s skull. Pain explodes behind my eyes, but his grip loosens just enough. I don’t hesitate—I adjust my dagger between my fingers and throw it.
I don’t get a chance to see if it lands before the second goon’s fist slams into my skull.
Stars.
I barely register the impact before suddenly—he’s gone.
Ripped away like he weighs nothing.
I gasp, chest heaving, and blink up at the man standing over me.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
Broad. Muscled. Towering.
Eyes like ice—piercing blue and merciless.
The kind of man who could break me in half without trying.
My heart stutters. My breathing turns shallow.
“Hello, shalunishka,” he says, voice deep, gravelly, and unmistakably Russian.
A full-body shiver wracks me.
My panties dampen at the sheer presence of him.
“Kaz, what are you doing, man?” Another voice cuts through the tension. “Help the lady up and let’s go.”
Kaz.
Dark, broody, and fucking lethal energy.
Pulling a gun from his waist band, I watch waiting my breath held. Before he aims at the man he pulled off of me and shooting him in the back of the head.
Then he reaches for me, and feminism be damned—I let him lift me effortlessly into his arms.
My legs wrap around his waist, my arms loop around his neck, and my fingers brush against the wavy dark hair grazing his nape.
His eyes never leave mine.
My heart slams against my ribs. My breath catches.
He turns, walking straight out of the house. No hesitation. No words.
If I’m being kidnapped again, my brain doesn’t get the memo.
My soul, however?
It screams for his.
This can’t be normal.
There’s no way this is normal.
“There, Keir, we got one man alive and barely had to lift a finger,” the other voice speaks again, yanking me from my thoughts.
I finally take in the two men standing beside a blacked-out SUV.
One of them—Keir—eyes me with intrigue. “Ah, yes. And now princess will tell us where we can take him—and why the fuck she’s hunting the Russians who want her alive”
Oh. My. Gosh.
It’s them.
Of course, it’s them.
“Well, this just got awkward,” I mutter, before realizing I just tucked my face into Kazimir’s neck.
The deep chuckle that rumbles through his chest is as intoxicating as the scent of him—masculine, clean, a hint of citrusy, woodsy musk.
“What the fuck!” The other guy exclaims. “Did Kazimir Volkova just laugh? I think I need a doctor—I might’ve hit my head.”
Volkova, my mind races the last name of the infamous pakhan who was murdered. I file that away for later.
I pull back, scowling at the guy who looks as if he’s witnessing the apocalypse.
“Is it illegal for him to laugh or something?”
The man grins, offering his hand. “Oh, Selene, I myself have never heard Kaz here laugh, so pardon my shock.” His smile turns downright mischievous. “Dario Acker, by the way—but you can call me yours.”
Did this man just flirt with me?
Using the lamest pick-up line in history?
“Wow,” I deadpan. “Let me just take the time to kiss the ground you walk on.”
Dario bursts into laughter, and I find myself smirking in return.
“Kaz, put her down. I’m sure she can stand on her own,” Keir commands.
I raise a brow. “What if I like being up here? I’m enjoying the scenery.”
Kaz’s chest rumbles with silent laughter, but he slides me down his hard, muscled body.
God help me.
“We got a man in the back and need somewhere to take him,” Keir says, straight to business. “You did offer Onyx’s help when we got your approval. So, help.”
Wow. Not even a please.
“Okay, okay, my cars down the other road,” I say, nodding toward the far side of the house. “You guys can follow me to my temporary residence.”
“Dario will go with you.”
Dario flashes me a megawatt grin.
“Aye, aye, captain.” I mock-salute Keir before turning on my heel.
Dario follows, practically bouncing.
“So, sugar, want to cause a little trouble before we meet up with the guys again?”
He winks.
“In your dreams, cupcake.” I bat my lashes at him, syrupy sweet.
He laughs, but when I veer toward the house, his amusement falters.
“Where are you going?”
I arch a brow. “To get my weapons. Obviously.”
Dario snickers as I roll my eyes. “Lucky for you, I have them right here.”
He hands me my dagger and gun.
My baby. With its emerald encrusted black handle, it’s definitely the prettiest dagger father got me.
I sigh in relief, running my fingers along the blade.
“A man after my own heart, it seems.”
Dario’s grin widens as we continue toward my car.
And something tells me I just stumbled into a lot more than I bargained for.