My Russian Nightmare (8 page)

Chapter 8

Dante, or Dimitri, whatever the hell his name is, stalks into the other room and answers his phone. I don’t follow. I need to be away from him. I lean against the wall in a corner of the room and slide my back down until I’m sitting on the floor with my arms wrapped around my legs.

He’s speaking in Russian again, so I have no idea what the fuck he’s saying or who he’s speaking to. Like it would matter if I understood. I’d still be at his mercy. I don’t know what to make of him. On one hand, he swears he won’t hurt me, but he’s working for the enemy. Not just working for, related to. Isn’t the old saying, “Blood is thicker than water?” If that’s the case, then I’m screwed.

On the other hand, I believe if he meant to hurt me, he would’ve done it already. He’s had ample opportunity. And when he looks at me, there’s fire in his eyes. A hot burning fire that heats me up with a glance. A fire so strong, I know if I get too close, it’s going to singe the hair off my skin and consume me.

I overreacted. I know I did, but who wouldn’t under these circumstances? The problem is that my heart, my body, want to trust him, while my brain and the facts say I shouldn’t. Maybe not all of the facts. In my heart, I know Dante would never hurt me. But according to him, he hasn’t been Dante in a long time.
What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?

Even though I don’t understand the conversation he’s having, I hear him speak rapidly and in an excited tone. “Okay,” he says just before hanging up the phone.

He’s standing in the doorway, looking around the room for me. His eyes, his face light up, and his lips draw up into a smile when he finds me.

“Ivan’s been shot,” he says with twinkling eyes. It looks and sounds more like he hit the lottery than delivering bad news.

“And that’s a good thing?”

“It’s fucking wonderful.” He sounds giddy, like he wants to jump out of his skin. “A rival family tried to take him out. Shot him in the head. He’s alive but in intensive care.”

“Rival family. As in mob family? Is this…are you…are we talking about the Russian mob?” I say in disbelief.

“Yes.” He approaches the corner I’m sitting in and extends a hand to help me up to my feet. I don’t reach for him. I stay where I am and wait. “Don’t you understand? This is the break we needed. It buys us time.”

My teeth chatter as relief sweeps over me. “Is this the “thing” you had in the works?”

The corners of his lips draw up into a smirk. “He’s had this coming for a long time. I only wish I pulled the trigger myself.”

He’s not a rapist, he’s a fucking murderer. Wonderful. I shouldn’t care, shouldn’t be upset about it. After what these bastards did to my brother, they deserve to die. Both of them. All of them.

“Which one is he, the blond or the old man?”

“The old man. He’s the one in charge. Yuri’s his son. He’s not next in line, but he likes to act like he is. He’ll probably try to take over while his father recovers. As I’m sure you’ve already realized, both of them are heartless motherfuckers.”

I keep my eyes locked on Dante as I use the wall for support in getting to my feet. “Then we can leave now?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. But they won’t be looking to move you for a few days, maybe even a few weeks. Yuri will be at his father’s bedside like a devoted son. And Ivan won’t be in any condition to come and oversee your transfer to the club for a while. Hopefully Sammy will be released before Ivan is out of the ICU and the three of us will get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Are you sure Yuri won’t try to do it on his own?”

“He won’t be thinking of it until his father is out of intensive care. Besides, his first order of business will be to take out the fucker that pulled the trigger.”

“Will they be coming after you?” I ask, nervous to hear the answer.

“Would it bother you if they did?” He’s much more subdued than he was when he first got the call.

“Of course it would. Dante, I…” I can’t speak. I lose the ability to string together words in a coherent thought. I need to change the subject, get my mind off of how my heart will break if I lose him again so soon. “I still don’t understand why we can’t leave right now.”

“I love the way my name sounds coming off your lips.” He’s flirting. That was a definite flirt. “But we do this my way. We leave when I say it’s safe.”

“Great.”

I don’t have a fucking choice or say in anything. I sigh, resigned to the fact I’m not going anywhere. I have so many questions, and the deeper we get into this, the more questions I have. Especially about the man standing in front of me.

“You said you’d tell me about my brother earlier, and you never did.”

“They lowered the settings on Sammy’s ventilator. Which means it takes more time between breaths for the machine to kick in.”

“Oh no!” I cover my mouth with my hands, imagining my brother struggling for air.

He grips my shoulders and speaks in a soft tone. “That’s a good thing. It means he’s breathing more on his own. And he’s lucid. They’re going to try to shut the machine off later today. If all goes well, they’ll pull the tube out and he’ll be breathing on his own.”

I release a long breath as I let myself fall against his chest. Dante holds me and kisses the top of my head. No matter how he tries to deny it or how much I don’t want to see it, he’s still
my
Dante, still the one that makes everything around me better. Safer.

“How did you find out?” I ask, nervous to hear they have people on the payroll at the hospital, too. If they do, what’s to stop them from finishing the job Ivan and Yuri started?

“I called.”

“Right, and with all the privacy laws in place, they just spilled whatever information they had on my brother.”

He stares into my eyes. I wonder how much longer we can stay locked up in the room together, hugging and touching, with smoldering looks cast from one to the other, before the heat between us ignites and turns into a dangerous wildfire.

“I told them I’m his brother-in-law.”

“And they believed it? Just like that?”

He nods and removes a hand from me. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I got upset before. I should’ve answered you,” he says, shaking his head and sighing. “I know I’m not a good man. I can’t look myself in the mirror and be happy with the things I’ve done. But I’d never—”

“I know. I freaked out.” I cut him off. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You should be freaked out.”

“But not with you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

His hand holds the back of my neck while his thumb strokes my cheek. “I never participated in the rapes. I’ve done other awful, unforgivable things, but not that. I could never bring myself to do it. I always thought of how I’d feel if it was being done to you, because I knew eventually they planned to have you. The thought drove me mad.”

“I should’ve known better than to even question it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you, Kiera. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone more. But if things turn physical between us, I need to know it’s because you want them to. Not because I forced you. Not because you’re desperate to toss your virginity out the window before someone steals it.”

Unable to find my voice, I nod. I can’t look at him. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable right now. Even fully dressed, I feel naked. Taking my chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he lifts my face up so I’m looking in his eyes again. I can’t leave well enough alone. I feel the need to explain.

“I know we were just kids, but the closest I’ve ever come to loving someone is what I felt for you. And being with you here, now, I don’t know what it is, but I feel something for you. It’s this strange pull. This need to be next to you, to feel your hands on me. Even if we were somewhere else together, I’d still want my first time to be with you.”

His lips meet mine for a nanosecond. Soft. Warm. Inviting lips that make my heart race and my knees week. He deepens the kiss, and it changes from soft and warm to hungry and demanding. He pulls his mouth away as I catch my breath. My chest heaves as I fight to suck in oxygen. I didn’t know kissing really could leave you breathless. I thought that was an exaggeration.

I interlock my fingers behind his neck and hold on tight because I feel down-to-my-toes weak. So much so I’m worried my knees will buckle, leaving me in a puddle at his feet. With my heart thundering, I stand on my tiptoes and push forward, meeting his lips again. This time I have no intention of waiting. He laid it out for me – I have to take what I want.

And I want him.

I open my mouth, inviting him in, inviting him to explore with me. His tongue brushes up against mine, dancing, twirling, spinning around my mouth, leading me in a well-orchestrated tango.

His hair is twined around my fingers as I hold on tight. Needing him. Lusting for him. I can’t get close enough to him. Heat and pressure build between my legs as we kiss. I squeeze my thighs together in an attempt to control the pulsing need growing there.

With his hand open, it glides down the side of my face, down my neck, and detours at my chest. One hand kneads my breast while the other hand drops to my ass, squeezing, holding me in place against him as his hips press against me. I moan as he swipes his tongue over my bottom lip and trails kisses down my neck and over to my shoulder.

Hot chills cover my skin from his touch. I throw my head back, exposing my neck for an onslaught of more delectable kisses. Nothing has ever felt this good before.

“Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear. “You’re shaking.”

I’m not just shaking, I’m vibrating. With need. Unable to find my voice, I nod and reach for the hem of his shirt. I might be at a loss for words, but I sure as hell know how to show him. I start pulling the shirt up over his chiseled stomach.

I allow my hands the pleasure of touching his hard abs, of running over each line of defined muscle. My fingertips trace the curves and contours of his stomach. It’s not enough. I want to see what he looks like. I only saw a hint of his glorious chest in the dim lighting of the van, and the memory has me craving more. I want to examine every inch of him in the garish light with my eyes, and hands, and eventually with my tongue.

I lift his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. I run my hands over his broad shoulders, studying his strong, muscular build, as well as the ink that decorates his skin. Bands of swirls and vines wrap around his biceps.

He tugs my shirt, lifting it. His hands don’t move as slow and tender over me as mine did over him. His movements are fast and rough. He’s not wasting any time. The shirt comes off and lands next to his on the floor.

“Slatkaya,” he whispers, crawling his eyes over my chest and up to my face. “So sweet. So beautiful and delicious.”

His mouth crushes mine. Hungry. Demanding. My heart skips a few beats as it races to keep up with the moment, and for the first time ever, I know what passion is. I feel alive. My insides thrum and vibrate as he wraps me up in his arms and backs me onto the bed. Still in full control, he lays me down and crawls on top of me. My legs separate for him.

Propped up on his elbow, Dante’s other hand slides between my legs and rubs against the course material of my jeans. I moan as my hips move. I wonder if he could feel how wet I am, how soaked my panties are.

He sucks on my bottom lip and nips it gently before slipping his hands under my back and opening my bra, freeing my breasts from their constraints. His fingers ghost up my arms and then down as he slips the straps from my shoulders down my arms and over my hands. Once it’s off, he tosses the bra to the growing pile on the floor.

Again, he stops and takes a moment to drink me in. The lusty look in his eyes sets my stomach tumbling with excitement. His tongue flicks over my puckered nipple before his mouth closes around it, sucking and nipping each one in turn. My back arches in response, offering my breasts up to him like celestial offerings.

Each time he moves to a new area of my body, I gasp and lose myself deeper in the fantasy of being with Dante. A fantasy years in the making. My skin covers with goose bumps from his scorching touch and wakens a desire inside me, a desire buried so deep I thought I’d been born defective for not having felt it before.

My hands roam through his hair, pulling him closer to me, holding him as I ride the wave of pleasure he’s churning up inside me. My legs wrap around his waist. I slide my hands down his neck to the peaks and valleys of muscle in his shoulders and his corded arms.

Suddenly, it comes to an end. He stops. Freezes.

Neither of us move. I don’t dare breathe because I’m afraid it will cause him to get up. Dante stares into my eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head, but his eyes won’t meet mine. “Are you sure you want this? That you want me?”

“Yes.” I stroke the side of his face and bring my lips up to meet his, then skim my fingertips down his back all the way to his waistband, hoping to stir in him some measure of the desire he brought out in me.

He cups my face with his hand. “You deserve so much better.”

I shake my head. “Dante—” I can’t finish my sentence. I don’t even know what I want to say, my emotions are all over the place and jumbled. The only thing I know for sure, the only thing I can say spills from my lips. “I don’t want this to end.”