Page 53 of Savage Bratva King

She smiles. “I hear you, but the words don’t match the look in your eye, printzessa.”

Tamara unhooks the dog’s leash from the wall and loops it around his neck. Then she offers the other end to me.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s time for his walk. The pakhan trusts you with his dog, unless that was simply a ploy on your part to get into the pakhan’s bed.”

My cheeks grow hot, and I wish that I could erase the feel of him inside me, just while I’m with her, because it feels as though she can see exactly what I’m thinking.

“What do you want from me, Tamara?”

She shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you out of the pakhan’s life.”

“Why? Because you want to be in his bed?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The mental image of Tamara lying on Leonid’s bed with his face between her legs makes me feel physically nauseous. She’s lying, I tell myself. She wants a reaction; she’s goading me into trying to escape, and I mustn’t fall for it.

I scan the room, checking out the ceiling and the cornices for cameras, and realizing that Tamara has her back to the ones that I can see. Right now, someone must be watching us on a TV monitor somewhere in these grounds, maybe even zooming in so that they don’t miss anything. Can they hear us? Instinct tells me that Tamara wouldn’t be so reckless if there were microphones tapping into our conversation. But it wouldn’t stop the guards from lip-reading everything that we’re saying.

Everything thatI’msaying. Because it’s obvious now that she intentionally positioned herself between me and the cameras.

Is she scared? She should be; Leonid won’t reward her interference with a slapped wrist and her verbal confirmation that it won’t happen again. Which means that she is more afraid of me staying here than of me leaving if she’s prepared to risk all to help me escape.

My head is screaming at me that this is a ruse. Convince me to escape and then have me shot before I even reach the property’s boundary. But now that the suggestion is out there, part of me is already running home, back to where I feel safe.

I take the leash from her and cross the room. Marvel walks alongside me, big brown eyes peering up at me as if this is going to be the best walk of his life, and I can’t help smiling back at him.

Tamara follows me through the house and outside. The guards close in on me when they see me with Marvel, but she must dismiss them with a gesture that I don’t see, because they stand aside and let me pass.

She can’t be trusted. She can’t be trusted.She can’t be trusted.

The words keep playing on repeat inside my head, but still my legs keep carrying me forward, past the decking and the pool, past the maze and the Japanese garden and another walled area that I haven’t noticed before. Marvel doesn’t slow his pace; he’s perfectly comfortable walking with me, stopping often to relieve himself over stones and flowers and anything else that lures him with a scent that only he understands.

Past the tennis courts, and I can see the edge of the woods surrounding Leonid’s land. Tamara still hasn’t spoken. But she hasn’t tried to stop me from walking too far either.

My ears strain for the sound of a loudspeaker voice ordering me to turn around and walk back to the house. Or worse, a gunshot. A tiny part of me is praying for heavy footsteps to come thumping up behind us, and for Sergei to take the decision away from me, yelling, “Stop right there!”

But he doesn’t.

Nothing happens, and we’re so close to the woods now that I can smell dew and tree sap and hear the birds announcing our impending arrival to the animals on the ground.

I’m torn. I feel like a ragdoll wrenched by her arms into two jagged pieces straight down the middle. I don’t want to leave Leonid. After last night, it feels wrong to run away. It’s like I’m treating it as a one-night stand when all I really want is to experience a repeat performance when Leonid comes home.

The thought of never feeling him inside me again or his tongue lapping up my sex or his teeth nibbling my nipples leaves a gaping hole inside me that I don’t fully understand.

But worse than this is wondering how he will react when he finds out that I’m gone. Will he be disappointed? Angry? Relieved? Will he try to find me himself, or will he send Tamara and Ivana to drag me back kicking and screaming?

There will be no more leniencies. No more games inside the maze. No more kisses or nice clothes or walks with Marvel. He’ll probably lock me inside the cold room in his dungeon and throw away the key, and I have to smother this thought to keep me from turning around and sprinting back to the house with Marvel a few paces ahead of me.

Because, despite the way I feel about Leonid and my fears that this is a trap, I’m still walking towards the woods. He might’ve turned my legs to Jello-O with his tongue the night before, but there’s still the little matter of me being his prisoner. He had me abducted because of Xander. He sat behind his fat over-polished desk in his runway-worthy suit and gave the order for me to be drugged and locked up in his basement.

Somehow, I’m struggling to align the ruthless monster with the amber eyes that smiled at me when I could barely move my orgasm-drained limbs. But if I was free to leave, why would he have me followed around by armed guards who are most likely trained to shoot first and clear up the mess after?

“Stop!”

I’m so trapped inside my head with images of Leonid sliding his cock inside me that I do as I’m told without even questioning the reason why it was given. Marvel whimpers and leans against my legs like I’d be able to support him if he decided to give me one good hard shove.

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