Page 1 of Brutal Union
PROLOGUE
NADIA
“Aw,don’t tell me it’s over already,” I coo in Sho’s beautiful face as his head lolls to the side and an exacerbated sigh leaves his lips. And here I thought my new toy would be up for the challenge of entertaining me, a girl can dream can’t she?
Sho’s cough rolls into a laugh as he throws his head back weakly, his moss eyes locked on mine, “Hime, don’t think so little of me. We’re just getting started.”
I chuckle, my eyes following the slow decline of a bead of sweat snaking through his abs right to the edge of his black, skin-tight boxer briefs. If it wasn’t for his betrayal of my family, and him almost killing the love of my brother’s life Gwen, I would admit to Sho that he is probably the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life. I mean fuck, he even looks good drenched in sweat, covered in a thick layer of dirt and blood.
Sho’s tan skin only glistens the more pain I inflict. The sweat from his exhaustion makes his black hair, cut into a mullet, and forming the natural waves in his hair, destroying the clean, slick-back look he had earlier today. This man has not a four or sixpack, but a fucking eight pack with V-line so defined my mouth just waters as I imagine licking the sharp muscle.
“Sho, baby,” I whisper, picking up my favorite instrument, a thin blade so sharp it could cut through paper with ease. “I want to carve my name into you.”
His lips curl into a lazy smile that might make my knees buckle, if not for the way he rolls his shoulders back, despite his wrists being cuffed behind the chair. He leans back with his legs spread, a glint of dark amusement in his eyes.
“I haven’t even taken you on a date,” he muses. “And already you want to claim me Mrs. Matsumoto.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” I tease, poking my index finger at the tip of my blade as I skip closer to Sho. I lean forward, placing one hand firmly on his thigh. “Don’t you?”
“Absolutely darling,” he strains through the pain of my nails digging into the cut on his leg.
A wicked smile curls my lips as I press the blade against the sharp line of his collarbone, just enough to tease, to feel the way his body tenses beneath me. His breath shudders, not in fear, but something far more delicious.
"Tell me, Sho," I murmur, dragging the tip of my knife down the center of his chest, tracing each sculpted ridge of muscle. "Was it worth it? Turning on me?"
His black eyes smolder with amusement, his jaw tightening as he exhales slowly. "I never turned on you, Hime. You just don’t like the way I played the game."
I laugh softly, leaning in until my lips hover over his. His scent—blood, sweat, and something uniquely him—makes my head spin. I shouldn't enjoy this, but fuck, I do.
“You almost killed Gwen.” I pout, drawing lines along his Greek god chest.
He tilts his head, his grin dark and knowing. "But I didn't. And you’re still here, straddling me, looking at me like you want to do things that would make even your brother blush."
I drag my blade lower, slipping just beneath the waistband of his jeans. His abs flex, his breath hitching for the first time. A small victory.
“I could cut you here,” I whisper, my free hand trailing down the inside of his thigh. “Make you beg.”
Sho chuckles, but it's ragged now, his pupils blown wide. “Beg for what, Hime? More? Less?” He shifts slightly, his legs spreading wider, inviting. “Because if you’re trying to break me, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
I press the blade harder, just enough to break the skin, a thin line of crimson blooming against tan flesh. His lips part, a sharp inhale escaping, but his gaze never wavers.
"Who said I wanted to break you?" I murmur, my mouth so close to his ear he can feel the heat of my breath.
His groan is low, almost a growl. “Don’t you break all your toys?”
“Only my favorite ones,” I purr along the curve of his throat before driving my knife into his inner thigh making sure not to puncture a major artery. He lets out a choked moan, almost like he had been holding his breath and a moan escapes my throat as he grits his teeth at the twist of my knife against his flesh, andfuckit’s goddamn music to my ears. “Ugh, keep making noises like that and I may have to keep you alive.”
I squat between his legs, the imprint of his cock pressing through his black boxers and trail my fingertips over the curve of his impressive member. He twitches under my finger, and I lick my lips at the sensation, because there is no way he is small. He feels thick, warm and so close to mine right under my fingertips.
A cough turned laugh peppers over my skin from his lips making me look up at him through my eyelashes.
“Fuck, Hime,” he curses. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll forget you’re the enemy.”
My breath catches, a hitch in my throat that betrays me for the briefest second. I swallow it down, forcing my expression into something cool and controlled, but the heat in Sho’s gaze tells me he caught it. He always catches everything.
Slowly, I lower myself, sinking onto the heels of my feet, my knees pressing into the cold concrete. The shift in position feels just as natural—just as right—as standing over him with a blade in hand, power thrumming through my veins. Except now, the energy between us changes, coils tighter, turns into something heavier. More intimate.
His legs are spread wide, his wrists still bound behind the chair, yet somehow, he doesn’t look at all like a man at my mercy. No, he looks at me like I’m the one caught in a trap. Like I’m the one playing right into his hands.
