Chapter 7 #2
She didn’t flinch. She just stared at me, her eyes burning with a reckless fire. “Or what? You’ll fuck me again? You’ll spank me until I cry? You’ve already done your worst. I’m still here. I’ve already survived you.”
“Oh, I haven’t even begun,” I warned her. “You’re a tool, Kara. A weapon. And ARCHEON pointed you at us. But let me ask you something. What happens to weapons when they become obsolete?”
She went still. The defiance in her eyes flickered, replaced by a dawning, chilling comprehension.
“They’ll dispose of you,” I spat. “They’ll erase you. Maybe with a convenient disappearance. A tragic accident. You’re a loose end, and they’re in a business that requires the tying up of loose ends.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered, but her words lacked conviction.
“I know how people like us operate,” I explained. “And ARCHEON, from what you’ve just described, is worse than us. They have no code. No loyalty. No family. Their only cause is simple profit.”
I loosened my grip on her throat, my fingers trailing down her chest, between her breasts, a tender, calculated caress. “But you,” I continued. “You have a choice.”
She looked at me, her eyes a mixture of suspicion and a desperate, flickering hope. “What choice?”
“Work for us,” I said more gently now. “Help us understand what they’re planning. Help us stop them. In return, we’ll protect you. We’ll keep you safe.”
I saw the conflict in her eyes, the war between the defiant survivor and the terrified woman who knew she was in danger whichever way she turned.
“Why would you help me?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Because you’re a valuable asset,” I replied pragmatically. “And because you’re the only one who can give us what we need.”
I leaned closer and inhaled deeply. “And because, for reasons I still don’t understand, I find myself unwilling to let them have you.”
My phone buzzed one more time, a final, insistent warning. I ignored it.
“What about Roman?” she asked, her voice a small, fragile thing. “What about your other brother?”
“What about them?” I countered.
“They won’t agree,” she said, shaking her head. “They’ll want to punish me. They’ll want to make an example of me.”
“They’ll do what I tell them to do,” I couldn’t hold back my possessive snarl. “You’re my problem now. My responsibility.”
A hesitant smile spread across her face. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen from her, and it was devastating. It transformed her, softening the hard edges, and revealing the woman I’d seen a glimpse of all those years ago. The woman I’d wanted then, and the woman I wanted now.
“Your responsibility?” she repeated, a teasing lilt in her tone. “That’s a very polite way of saying you’re going to keep me as your prisoner.”
“If that’s what it takes,” I grinned, holding her gaze.
She laughed and it was a soft, musical sound that was like a balm to my soul. “Ahh, Lev,” she mocked. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
This time when my phone buzzed, I snatched it up. Dmitri. It was a series of text messages, impatient and full of warning.
“We’re out of time,” I sighed.
I stood up and pulled on my shirt, the fine cotton familiar against my skin. I buttoned it up with quick methodical movements and then pulled on my suit jacket. I was back in my armor. Back in control.
She watched me, her eyes a mixture of fear and a reluctant, fascinated admiration. “What are you going to do with me?”
“I’m taking you with me,” I said simply. “Get dressed.”
I tossed a dress from the closet onto the bed. It was an elegant black sheath, stylish and understated. She was going to look like a fucking rockstar in it.
She looked at the dress, then at me, a flicker of boldness in her eyes. “And if I refuse?”
I walked back to the bed and leaned over her, my face close to hers. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t have to.
“Then I’ll dress you myself,” I said with a menacing growl. “And I promise you, you won’t like it.”
She held my gaze for a long moment, a silent battle of wills. Then she looked away with a scowl.
Finally, she stood up and picked up the dress, her movements slow and incredibly reluctant.
She slid it over her head, the fabric whispering against her skin.
It fit her perfectly, clinging to her curves like a second skin.
My eyes raked over her and I smiled, knowing that she was still a dripping wet, naked mess underneath that dress.
I watched her. I could see the subtle signs of her arousal, the hard points of her nipples pressing against the fabric, the faint flush on her skin. She was still affected. Still mine.
“Shoes,” I prompted impatiently.
She slipped into a pair of simple black heels, her movements a little unsteady. She stood before me, a vision of dark, defiant beauty.
“What now?” she whispered.
“Now,” I rumbled. “You come with me.” My gaze swept the room, cataloging the remnants of our battle. My eyes landed on a scrap of black lace near the foot of the bed—her panties. A small, intimate souvenir of her defeat.
I walked over and picked them up. The lace was damp, fragrant with the scent of her arousal. I looked at her, a wicked smile spreading across my face. Then I tucked them into my pocket.
She watched me, her eyes wide, a flicker of something—humiliation, maybe, or a hesitant, dawning understanding of her new reality. Either way, it made my cock jump.
“Let’s go.” I directed her out of the room with a gesture.
I took her arm in a firm grip and led her out of the suite, not back toward the helipad, but toward the private elevator.
The helicopter was long gone by now. I’d told the pilot to leave me behind, not knowing how much time I’d need to deal with Kara.
I’d arranged another form of transportation to be waiting for us in the garage below.
The elevator descended in a smooth, silent rush, the city a blur of motion outside the glass walls. She was quiet, her body tense and rigid beside me. I could feel the tremors still running through her though, a fine, almost imperceptible quaking that made my dick hard as a rock.
We didn’t speak. There was nothing left to say. Not here. Not now.
The doors opened directly into a private sub-level garage, a cavern of concrete and polished steel. It was empty, except for one vehicle. A long, black Maybach, its curves a study in predatory elegance. It was my car. My territory.
I opened the rear door and gestured for her to get in. She hesitated, a flicker of rebellion in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She slid onto the leather seat, her movements stiff and awkward.
I followed her in, settling onto the seat opposite. The door clicked shut, enclosing us in a cocoon of soft leather and tinted glass. The divider between us and the driver was already up, granting us a privacy that was as much a weapon as it was a luxury.
She sat opposite me, her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor. She looked small, fragile, a stark contrast to the woman who had drugged my brother, the woman who had fought me, the woman who had screamed my name as she came on my cock.
The game between us had changed.
The hunt was over. The capture was complete. Now the real work began.