Page 54 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
He nodded, his face grim. “I will. What do we do now?”
I took a deep breath, the cold fury that had been building inside me for the last two days finally settling into quiet, focused purpose. “Now,” I said, my voice quiet, “we watch. We gather our evidence. And then, we get to the bottom of this. All of it.”
Chapter 17 – Kat
I didn’t go back to the suite until hours later—I decided to wait until I was sure he would have left the room for his office or wherever he had to be. My body was still humming with a cold, simmering rage. The memory of how he and Irene looked together still irritated something in me; the thought of whatever the fuck he was telling her bugging me. My hands were fisted at my sides, my mind a storm of curses.
I put the key in the lock, my movements stiff. I was ready to storm inside, to find my phone, to call Sava, to do anything but confront him again.
But when I opened the door, he was already there. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking at me, his face impassive. He was no longer in his formal clothes. He was in a simple black shirt and trousers, a dangerous, casual ease in his posture.
My heart skipped a beat. The anger inside me, so hot and fierce just a moment ago, now froze over.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” I said, my voice betraying the turmoil inside me. I took a step back, my hand still on the door handle, ready to bolt.
He couldn’t move. He didn’t answer. He just watched me. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into me. I felt like a bug pinned under a microscope.
“You’re testing my patience, Katria,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re pushing me, and you have no idea what that does to me.”
I scoffed, a short, bitter sound. “I’m testing your patience?”
I dropped my hand from the door handle and took a defiant step into the room. “And what did you expect? Did you just think I would just stand there?”
I tried to push past him, but he was too fast. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm and unyielding. I struggled, twisting my body, but it was of no use. His strength was a wall I couldn’t break.
“Don’t,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Don’t push me away. Not when you’re the one who keeps coming back.”
I stopped struggling, my body weak with exhaustion and defeat. “I’m not coming back,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m just tired.”
“Are you?” he asked, his voice now a mere whisper. “Are you tired, or are you just confused?”
His question hung in the air between us.
I looked at him, my mind a storm of complicated emotions. I was confused. Confused by his anger one minute, his possessiveness the next. Confused by my own defiance and my own undeniable need for him. I had to choose; I could either push him away again or I could finally, truly tell him the truth.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, the words a raw, honest whisper. “I don’t know. All I know is…it’s hard for me to completely trust you.”
His expression didn’t change, but his grip on my arm tightened. “Trust? You think this is about trust?” he said, his voice laced with a bitter irony. “I could have left you in a cold, locked-up room. I could have sold your father’s company. I could have handed you over to the enemy. But I didn’t. I married you. I gave you my name. I brought you into my home. And I protected you.”
“Protected me?” I said, a harsh laugh escaping my lips. “Is that what you call it? You’ve brought me into a world where I am a stranger, and I'm supposed to just accept it? To just…trust you?”
“My actions are for your own good,” he said, unyielding. “You don’t understand the dangers you’re in. You don’t understand the snakes in this house. You don’t understand that every action I take is to protect you.” He let go of my hand and took a step back. “But when I see you, your body trembling with anger and your eyes blazing with fire, I can’t think. All I want to do is silence you. And not with a weapon.”
The words hung in the air between us. He wasn’t apologizing. He was explaining. He was telling me that his violence, his cruelty, his punishments, were his way of protecting me. The logic was twisted, warped, but it was his truth.
He took a step toward me, and then another. I stood my ground, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. He reached out, his hand tracing the line of my jaw, his touch light, and yet, it was a command. “And when I see you like that, when you push back, when you challenge me, I want to make you mine. Again and again.”
My breath caught in my throat. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to scream at him. But my body was betraying me. It was humming with a want, a desire that was as terrifying as it was undeniable.
His head bent, and lips, warm and soft, came down to mine. The kiss was slow at first, a gentle exploration. But as I heaved a soft sigh of surrender, it grew passionate, demanding, and full of all the emotions we couldn’t speak. His arms went around my waist, pulling me to him, his mouth moving against mine with fierce hunger. My hands went to his shoulders, clinging to him. I quickly got lost in the moment, my body a willing captive to his touch, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and needs.
His mouth pressed fiercely against mine, silencing my protests and swallowing my doubts. I was a blazing fire, and hewas the wind, stirring the flames. He pulled away from the kiss, his lips trailing down my jaw and neck, leaving a trail of desire behind. My hands went to his hair, clutching at the silky strands, my body arching against his, a silent plea for more.
He pushed me gently to the wall, his body a solid, warm presence against mine. His lips continued their journey, down my throat to the hollow of my neck, to the soft skin of my collarbone and breast. He was a man possessed, his movements deliberate, his touches worshipful, and all I could do was lean into him, my body willing captive to his touch.
He pulled back, just enough for me to see his face, his eyes dark with a primal hunger, his lips parted.
“Moy zaychik,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough growl, his breath warm against my skin. “My little rabbit. You fight me so hard.”
