Page 30 of The Russian's Innocent Prey
Then his mouth crashed down on mine, and thinking became impossible.
This wasn’t the desperate hunger of our first night together, wasn’t the grief-stricken claiming that had left us both raw and breathless. This was war. A battle fought with lips and teeth and tongues, each kiss a declaration of territory claimed and boundaries crossed.
I should have pulled away. Should have reminded him that this marriage was temporary, that I wasn’t actually his to possess or protect or punish. Should have maintained theprofessional distance that would make it easier when this arrangement eventually ended.
Instead, I kissed him back with everything I had. Melted against him like I was made of nothing stronger than candle wax, let him consume me in ways that went far beyond the physical. I was drowning in him—in his taste, his scent, the way his free hand tangled in my hair and tilted my head to exactly the angle he wanted.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. My lips felt swollen and thoroughly claimed, and there was something triumphant in his expression that made my knees go weak.
That’s when my phone chose to buzz with an incoming call, the sound cutting through the charged atmosphere like a knife. I fumbled for it with hands that were definitely not steady, glancing at the screen to see Milo’s name displayed.
Lev’s entire demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowing as he read the caller ID over my shoulder. “Milo?” The name came out like a curse, loaded with suspicion and something that looked dangerously like jealousy.
I stared up at him, my mind struggling to process the rapid shift from desire to possessiveness to what might have been an actual threat. This was the man I’d married—not just protective, but possessive in ways that went far beyond rational. The man who could switch from devastating kisses to deadly stillness in the space of a heartbeat.
The phone continued buzzing in my hand, Milo’s call demanding attention I wasn’t sure I was capable of giving. Because standing there, looking up into Lev’s face, I realized I didn’t know what scared me more—his anger, or the way my body was still humming with want despite the clear danger he represented.
He was waiting for an answer, and I could see in his expression that whatever I said next would have consequences I couldn’t predict. This wasn’t just about a phone call or my business partner or even the boundaries of our fake marriage.
This was about power. About who controlled what in this relationship that had started as protection and was rapidly becoming something much more complicated and infinitely more dangerous.
My thumb hovered over the answer button, and I realized that whatever choice I made, it would be the first real test of whatever this thing between us was becoming. The first time I’d have to decide whether I was going to submit to his possessiveness or fight it.
The phone continued buzzing. Lev continued staring. And somewhere in the space between his kiss-swollen mouth and his dangerously quiet stillness, I realized I was in far more trouble than any amount of Ukrainian bullets could have caused.
Because the man I’d married to stay safe was rapidly becoming the most dangerous threat to my emotional survival I’d ever encountered. And the worst part was, I was starting to think I didn’t want to be saved from him.
Not anymore.
“Answer it,” he said finally, his voice carrying undertones I couldn’t identify. “But put it on speaker.”
The command in his tone should have made me bristle. Should have triggered every independent instinct I possessed and made me tell him exactly where he could shove his controlling demands.
Instead, I found myself doing exactly what he’d asked, my thumb sliding across the screen to accept the call before switching to speaker mode. Because somewhere between his mouth on mine and his hand still wrapped around my wrist, I’dlost the ability to deny him things that should have been non-negotiable.
“Anya?” Milo’s voice filled the room, sounding more concerned than I’d ever heard him. “Thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you since I heard about the attack. Are you okay? Is there anything you need?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Lev’s thumb pressed against my pulse point in a gesture that was unmistakably possessive. A reminder that I belonged to him now, that every conversation and every relationship would be filtered through the lens of his protection and his jealousy.
“I’m fine,” I managed, proud that my voice sounded steadier than I felt. “Just dealing with some unexpected changes.”
Milo’s concern was evident even through the phone’s speaker. “Changes? Anya, what’s going on? And why do you sound like you’re in an echo chamber?”
Lev’s eyes never left my face, and I could see him cataloging every micro-expression, every hesitation, every sign of how I was going to handle this first test of loyalty. Because that’s what this was, I realized. A test to see whether I would prioritize my old life or my new one, whether I would choose independence or submission.
The problem was, I was no longer sure which choice would keep me safer. And I was even less sure which choice I actually wanted to make.
Chapter 9 – Lev
I walked into my office after dropping Anya at hers, jaw tight, mood darker than the fucking storm clouds gathering outside. The scent of stale coffee and tension hung in the air like a noose. Every muscle in my body was coiled, ready to snap at the next idiot who dared cross my path.
But I froze when I saw him.
Trev sat in the chair across from my desk like he owned the place, blue eyes fixed on me with that same steady intensity I remembered from when we were kids. Same face as mine, same build, same goddamn everything except those eyes. Blue where mine were steel-gray. A constant reminder that we were two halves of something that had been ripped apart when we were ten.
My hands clenched into fists inside my gloves. The burned flesh beneath the leather protested, but I welcomed the pain. It kept me grounded when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
“Get the fuck out of my chair,” I growled, not moving from the doorway.
