Page 102 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

My chest aches at the memory, at how little she meant to me then.

Because that’s not true now.

“Did youeverthink that maybe, just maybe, I wanted to say no?” she says, her voice cracking on the last word. “That I didn’t want to be treated like a piece of meat being sold? Did you eventhinkthat I mattered?”

Her eyes are on fire. Her chest heaves with outrage. Her lips twitch with what I assume are well-thought insults.

But she doesn’t say anything. She’s waiting to hear my response. She’s asking because she wants to know.

“You’re right,” I state plainly. Her resolve weakens. “When it happened, I didn’t give a flying fuck who or what you were. All I saw was the promise between your legs: your birthright sitting where I could take it. What it meant tomewas my only concern.”

She trembles. “Was?”

I nod. “Our time together has changed that.”

The corners of her mouth crease with a deep frown.

Stubborn woman. Through and through.

“You’ve burrowed so deep inside me, Liya,” I whisper while stepping toward her. “That I can’t rip you out without tearing a piece of my heart in the process.”

She doesn’t step back. She doesn’t flinch. She just keeps staring into my eyes intensely.

“Yes,” I concede. “I put blood on your hands, and nothing can wash that away.”

Her resolve cracks with relief.

“But you’re the one who chose to get closer and closer to this dangerous world of mine.”

She scoffs. “I didn’t have—”

“Even then,” I cut in. “I dideverythingin my power to keep you out of it.”

“Oh, so you want an award for trying to spare my feelings?”

Like I said, stubborn.

Her glare strengthens as she clenches her fists at her sides. “Is this really how you thought the entire time?”

“It is.”

“Willow was right,” she spits. “You’re a bastard and a monster.”

Inwardly, I flinch. She can’t see it. She can’t even sense it. Yet the reaction happens all the same.

Does the opinion of some petite blonde chick matter to me? Not in the least.

But the opinion of my wife? Of the woman who stole my heart? Far more important.

Despite her anger, her indignation, her fury, I can’t help getting sucked into her raging allure. Her temple twitches and her nostrils flare, but that’s not what does it.

It’s the way her pupils are blown out.

It’s how she stands with her back straight and her breasts plumping up with every breath.

It’s the way her artery jolts in her neck, drawing my attention to the slick sweat and leftover rain coating her flesh.

The very flesh I want to taste for myself.

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