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Mitya was restless and edgy, feeling as though he had to find a way to bind Ania to him so permanently she would never think of leaving him. If he didn’t, outsiders could tear them apart. He wouldn’t survive that. He’d survived many things, but he’d had the taste of something good, something miraculous, and he couldn’t go back to that empty void he’d lived in for so long. He had to find a way to make Ania realize she was at the very center of his world.
“Is Lazar orchestrating this?” Fyodor asked. “You know him better than anyone, Mitya. Is he behind this?”
Mitya thought about his father. He was a cold, cruel man who would love nothing better than to start wars between crime families in another country and then sit back to watch the fun. He’d take credit, because his ego was so large he needed others to know and acknowledge how superior he was. He was also an instant gratification kind of man. He’d had his way for so long in everything within the lair, and the surrounding territories, that he had become so entitled, he never waited for anything.
He would have come after Mitya the moment he found out where he was and, in fact, had put into motion his plans to punish and kill him almost immediately when Fyodor had openly begun using the name Amurov.
“No. This doesn’t feel like him at all. Don’t get me wrong, he’s here. He’s close. He got in through the Houston port, I’m certain of that. I don’t know if the Caruso family helped him—my guess is they did, not realizing they were bringing in the enemy—but in any case, he’s here and he wouldn’t be if he didn’t think he had an advantage in some way.”
Fyodor sighed. Again, there was silence as the cousins contemplated Mitya’s assessment. It was Gorya who raised the question they all had on their minds.
“If not Lazar, who? And is he targeting us? Or are we just part of the larger picture?”
“Damn it,” Mitya said. “If one more thing happens, I’m going to lose Ania. Our relationship is so precarious right now. And she doesn’t know anything about what we’re doing. That’s going to add more pressure.” He shoved a hand through his hair and winced when his shoulder protested. “I need a fuckin’ break. Just a small one.”
“Bring her to dinner tomorrow night,” Fyodor suggested. “She likes Ashe and Evangeline. The more we encourage her to be around them, the better the chance you have that she wants to stick around. She’ll realize she isn’t alone. The women will help her whenever she needs someone to talk to.”
Mitya was selfish enough to want his woman to do her talking to him. Still, he couldn’t say it was a bad idea. He found himself nodding. “Thanks, Fyodor. She’ll like that. And it would be nice to just have a dinner without drama.”
Fyodor laughed softly. “I didn’t promise you there wouldn’t be any drama. It’s my experience that when women get together, drama follows. It’s some kind of natural phenomenon.”
“How is Evangeline? Is she up for company?” Mitya asked.
There was a small silence again. Gorya glanced in the rearview mirror, and Timur turned to look fully at his brother.
Fyodor sighed. “She’s pretty sick. She can’t keep food down as a rule. It can get pretty bad. We’ve got a nurse in the home now. She’s staying with us and gives Evangeline regular fluids. I’ve actually set up a small area at the bakery in the back room where Vera can give her fluids if she needs them. I also put a cot in the back for her.”
Timur made a noise in his throat that came off like an angry growl. “She shouldn’t be working. You have to stop giving her every little thing she wants and think about her health, Fyodor. You’ll be kicking yourself if she loses the twins.”
“I want Evangeline happy. So far, the babies haven’t shown signs of distress. Evangeline wants children, and the last thing she’ll do is risk losing them. She’ll stop when she feels she has to or if the doctor tells her she needs to. You don’t understand the importance of that bakery to her, Timur.”
“If it ever gets to be too much and you can see she’s risking her life to keep going, what then, Fyodor?” Timur demanded. “Because that’s a very real possibility.”
“Then I’d burn it to the ground without her knowledge. Promise her a new one and take my time getting it done. I can delay the hell out of any building project. I do it all the time. In the meantime, though, Timur, if she needs this bakery to fulfill something in her, I’m giving it to her.”
Mitya admired Fyodor. He did. He loved the man, but he didn’t agree with him. Timur didn’t either. Mitya would have burned the bakery down a long time ago if he thought it could get his woman killed. That was part of the problem. Ania was an intelligent woman. She read people. That was part of her gift. She read him, and she knew he was dangerous. Her leopard knew. He was ruthless when he felt it was necessary. Each time she was determined to commit to him, something happened, and she came up against his personality. That hadn’t helped his cause one bit.
He wasn’t looking forward to facing her after his decree that Sevastyan do whatever it took to get her in the safe room. Sevastyan was every bit as ruthless as Mitya. Although he appeared a little more charming, he was a man who would do whatever it took to get the job done. He thought like Mitya. Stop it before it had a chance to happen. He would burn down the bakery as well.
16
ANIA glared at Mitya from the bed where Sevastyan had secured her. She was lying on her back, her hands in cuffs—and they weren’t the soft play ones either. They hurt her wrists. If she was honest, they probably wouldn’t hurt if she hadn’t gone crazy and fought. She knew better. She couldn’t break out of steel, but she’d tried.
It hadn’t helped that Sevastyan had watched her with that dispassionate look on his face, the one that infuriated her, his arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t said anything at all, just stared at her with that unnerving, unblinking way he had.
She’d kicked him several times before he’d gotten the cuffs on her. She’d scored two great shots to his gut, driving the ball of her foot deep, eliciting a very satisfying grunt from him. Then she’d scored another great shot to his thigh. She was positive she’d given him dead leg, but he was Sevastyan and he hadn’t given her the satisfaction of letting her know if she had or hadn’t.
He’d waited until she kicked again, caught her ankle in the vise from hell and snapped a cuff on her and then secured that to the bed. He hadn’t even smirked, just given her that blank stare. She’d been cautious then. She only had one weapon left. She wasn’t going to give him her other leg, not if she could help it.
He’d walked around the bed, cuffs dangling from his hands, and she’d eyed him warily. Where had he gotten all those handcuffs anyway? Were they already in the safe room, and if so, did they belong to Mitya? She doubted it. He would have padded cuffs, not ones that dug into skin and left bruises.
Sevastyan had moved with sudden blurring speed, catching her ankle, snapping the cuff around it with practiced ease and then securing the other end to the bedpost, almost all in one movement. He’d looked her over carefully and then turned and left her alone, sauntering out the door as if he hadn’t had a care in the world.
He didn’t know it, but she believed in revenge. She’d had plenty of time to give it a lot of thought, just how she would make his life miserable. But then time passed, and she got angry with Mitya. After all, this was his fault. He gave orders in that low voice, smoldering with rage but as cold as ice, and he expected everyone to obey him. Clearly, Sevastyan was unhappy with the orders, the same as she was. No, this was Mitya’s fault.
She glared at him when he stepped into the room and then she noticed the bloody towel he had wrapped around his bicep and shoulder. “What happened?”
Mitya glanced down at his shoulder as if just noticing it. He shrugged. He was wearing only a pair of light blue denim jeans. They rode low on his hips and he was barefoot. He looked amazing, but then he always did.
“Just a graze. He wasn’t the bes
t shot. I hear you gave Sevastyan some trouble.”
“He’s a complete bastard even if he is your cousin.”
“He was following orders.”
His blue eyes slid over her. The way his gaze drifted over her and the tone of his voice sent a little shiver creeping down her spine.
“Uncuff me, Mitya.”
His eyebrow shot up. “I don’t think you’re in a position to give me orders, kotyonok. In fact, if I were you, I might try being nice. You’re in a little bit of trouble.”
She scowled at him. “Why would I be in trouble?” she demanded. “I wasn’t the one bossing everyone around, deciding who went where and letting their total bastard of a cousin shove me into this room and then cuff me to the bed.” She yanked on the cuffs. “Take them off.”
Again, those blue eyes moved over her and this time he didn’t bother to try to hide the flames flickering there. He managed to look like sin incarnate. Her breasts instantly ached, nipples pushing hard against the shirt she wore. She still had no clothes other than Mitya’s too-big shirt. Sevastyan had dragged her into the safe room, and then, when she’d fought him, he’d very coolly handcuffed her to the bed.
She was suddenly aware that her legs were spread wide and the shirt had only two buttons closed. His gaze had dropped to the junction between her legs. She wanted to squirm under his gaze and close her legs. Instead, she felt the slick heat begin to dampen her bare lips.
“I need a shower.” Mitya turned away from her and headed to the bathroom built into the safe room, which was really more like a small but very luxurious apartment.
“Mitya.” She hissed his name, but he paid no attention, not even turning around.
Ania bit her lower lip and studied the post her right hand was attached to. Was it possible to slide the cuff up the post and off? Sevastyan had attached the cuff around one of the smaller places between large wooden bulbs that made up the ornate post. There was no way she could get the cuff over those spheres that climbed up the post.
She took a deep breath and listened to the water running in the shower. He was definitely in a mood. He didn’t look at all happy with her, although he had a rather impressive bulge in his jeans, not that it was anything new; Mitya was often hard or semihard, which she had always thought was a plus. She wasn’t so certain now. Not that she minded playing bondage. That could be fun, but not when he was in whatever mood he was in now.
She tried to ignore the fact that the longer she lay there, spread out like a starfish on top of the bed, the more the fire between her legs grew. There was nothing she could do about it either. She couldn’t relieve the burn with her fingers, or even rub her thighs together. Her heart accelerated and even her stomach did a slow roll in anticipation.
It felt like forever before Mitya came strolling out of the bathroom, toweling off his wet hair, another towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He didn’t look at her but rather went to the light panel, and immediately the room was plunged into darkness. He fiddled with something, and dim lights in the ceiling above the bed came on, pouring down on her, spotlighting her body.
Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that, and it made her feel very vulnerable, far more so than the cuffs. The cuffs were for playing. Something fun they could laugh about together. But the lights shining on her body made her feel exposed. It was strange that the handcuffs made her feel like his sexy plaything. She liked playing the part of his plaything. But those lights . . .
He opened drawers and pulled things out, walking back over to place a few items on a small end table. She turned her head to try to see what he’d placed there, but she couldn’t. She moistened her lips and looked up at him and instantly swallowed anything she planned to say. He had that look again.
“Do you remember when we talked, and I made it very clear that when I told you to do something necessary for safety, I expected you to do it?”
She tried to outstare him, but he just stood there, never blinking, just looking down at her without moving or speaking. She had the feeling he could do that all night. She nodded.
“I want you to answer me, Ania.”
“I remember,” she said. “But—”
“There are no ‘buts.’ We had an agreement.”
“Mitya,” she protested, her heart accelerating. Why did she have to love the combined trepidation and exhilaration he always caused in her when he used that tone? When he had that look? Her blood felt so hot rushing through her veins she was afraid she might burn from the inside out.
“You agreed, Ania,” he said softly. “You gave me your word.”
She wasn’t certain she’d given her word. A promise. She shook her head but wasn’t certain what to say to get her out of the trouble she was certain she was in.
He still towered over her, slowly moving the towel through his hair. He looked gigantic. She’d known he was a big man, but lying on the bed, lights playing over her body like a marquee, she felt small and a little helpless.
“Are you angry with me?” She didn’t like that her voice sounded hesitant.
He continued to look at her with that focused, intense stare. Her nipples felt diamond hard, and she was very glad that at least the shirt covered them. He could see the dampness glistening on her bare lips and there was nothing she could do about that. Once she realized the shirt was working its way up her thighs and hips with all her squirming and fighting, she tried to lie very still.
Mitya gave a slow nod. “I believe I am. You don’t get to treat my men the way you did Sevastyan when they are simply following my orders. They have no choice but to follow my orders. You’re making them miserable for no reason other than you felt like throwing a tantrum and you knew they couldn’t retaliate.”
She blinked. Shocked. “A tantrum?” she echoed.
He tossed the towel to one side and caught her foot in his hand, the one she’d been wiggling over and over. He began a slow massage, his gaze still on her face. “What would you call it when Sevastyan is putting you in a safe room, following my instructions, and you kick him repeatedly?”
Put like that, maybe it did sound like a tantrum. She was thoroughly angry that Sevastyan was forcing her to be locked in a room without even knowing if Mitya was alive or dead. But Mitya was right, Sevastyan was following his orders.
“I didn’t like being forced into a safe room while you were in danger,” she murmured, lowering her lashes. She detested that she had to concede the point.
“That isn’t an excuse, Ania. You know it isn’t.” His voice was the same, very low but compelling, holding that note of censure and that little bit of anger she wasn’t used to.
His hand slid up her calf and then higher to stroke her thigh. He kept looking at her, not taking his eyes from her face to look at her body. Somehow that made her all the hotter.
“I don’t like you abusing my men. It isn’t right just because you know they can’t retaliate,” he reiterated.
She thought Sevastyan had made his point with the cuffs, but she kept her mouth shut. In any case, he was right. She’d kicked Sevastyan, and the worst he’d done was force her to stop by using the cuffs. It was humiliating at the time. Now she was embarrassed by her behavior.
“We’re getting married immediately and you’re going to fully commit to me. There will be no divorce. Not ever. We’re shifters and we’re going to live by shifter rules. You don’t have to always like it. In fact, just like today, there will be times when you don’t like it at all. But you don’t walk away. We work things out.”
“And if we can’t agree?” she said quietly, her heart beating too fast.
“Then we do things my way. You will learn, over time, to trust me. I love you. You’re always going to be the center of my world. The business I’m in is dangerous, and I’m not about to let it overflow to you or our children. When I say you’re to be tucked away someplace I know you’
ll be safe, you go without question or argument.”
“Mitya.” She shook her head.
He leaned over her, caught the shirt and yanked, popping the two buttons holding the two halves of the material together. He was casual about the sudden violence, so much so that it set her heart hammering in her chest and blood pounding through her clit. He reached out to the end table and removed a pair of scissors. He cut the shirt into strips, so he could pull it off her without removing the cuffs. Now the lights played over her bare skin, creating shadows and hollows almost lovingly.
“Yes, Ania, that’s the way it’s going to be. You love me. I know that you do.” His hand slid between her legs, two fingers plunging deep, making her cry out. He lifted them into that light right in front of her eyes. “You want me just like this. You tied down, waiting for me to do anything to you. It makes you hot as hell, doesn’t it?”
She considered lying, but one couldn’t lie to one’s mate and get away with it. Besides, the evidence was gleaming on his fingers right in front of her eyes. She nodded slowly. He pressed his fingers to her lips, forcing her mouth open so he could push his fingers inside. “Suck them clean the way you sucked my cock this afternoon.”
Her clit pulsed at the raw sexiness of his demand. Her sheath clenched. What about him made her feel so helplessly compelled to do anything he told her? And why did she love it so much? And him? Why did she love him so much? She sucked on his fingers, tasting herself, tasting her need of him. Her hunger for him.
“I’m through with your indecision, kotyonok, and I’m not a man to tolerate something when I’m through. I didn’t like your behavior today and you’re never going to act like that again. You will apologize to my cousin.”
That would be a bitter pill. He might deserve an apology, but he was such a jerk sometimes. She knew Mitya saw it on her face that the last thing she wanted to do was tell his cousin she was sorry for anything.