Page 5 of Taken & Bred By The Bratva
“What if I refuse?” She raises her chin, straightening her shoulders. Fuck, gotta love my girl. It’s like she was made to be a Maksimov woman.
I lean close enough to smell her. That same scent that’s been driving me fucking crazy for days. All woman under clean sweat.
“Then you’ll end up like Marcus, sweetheart,” I lie without blinking.
A gasp escapes her lips, and she covers them with her hands before whimpering in defeat, “I just want to go home.”
I tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Youarehome, baby.”
3
Zara
My hands won’t stop shaking as I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. The room is huge, with marble everywhere, gleaming brass, and expensive products on the counters. Pale salmon walls, gorgeous lighting, thick rugs under my feet. I’ve never seen anything like it outside of magazines and on screen. But all I can think is,this isn’t real. It can’t be real.With the taste of fear bitter on my tongue. And something else… something worse. Much more dangerous. Something wild, powerful, overwhelming. A fire, a dark desire that blazes between my thighs, makes my breasts heavy and my nipples hard as rock. I want him. Crave him. Long for his touch. I wanna bury my nose into his wide chest and get drunk on his woodsy scent, feel his huge hands on my body, the heavy weight of him pushing me into a mattress… Oh God… I’m sick. I’ve never been with a man, never wanted one. Never had room for romance, what with spending every ounce of energy, every second of the past almostdecade fighting to survive. And with one look, this man, this monster, brings something to life inside me I never knew was there. Or could exist. Something I never even thought I could feel.
I splash water on my face, trying to pull myself together. Think, Zara. There has to be a way out of this. Out of this monumental mess, and the storm of emotions this man ignites in me.
But every escape plan I come up with crumbles under the weight of reality. I have no money. No family. No one would even really notice if I disappeared. Just a handful of friends going through the same life struggles I am. And he’s right about the police: they won’t stop until they get what they want from me, and trusting them to protect me against Nikolai Maksimov would be fucking stupid.
A knock on the door makes me jump so hard that I bump into the marble counter.
“Five minutes.” His deep voice is perfectly calm, which makes all of this ten times worse. It’s like he has all the time, energy, and patience in the world to fuck up my life.
I look at myself one more time. My dark skin looks ashen with fear; my eyes are red and swollen. And with my cheap uniform, I definitely don’t look like someone who’s about to get married.
The door opens before I can respond, and Nikolai enters, filling the doorway. God, he’s huge… shoulders so broad they block out the light behind him. His thick hair doesn’t have a strand out of place. The flawlessly cut suit he’s wearing probably costs more than I’ve made all year. It’s fitted to his massive frame like it was sewn directly to his body. My breath catches in my throat. Not from attraction, I scold myself, from terror.
Stop looking at him like that. He’s a goddamn killer. You fucking saw him murder a man. And you’re very high on the list of his potential next victims!
But I can’t help it. Even knowing what he’s capable of, my traitorous body is way too aware of how smoking hot Nikolai Maksimov is, and I hate myself for it. But it’s not just that. It’s a dark, twisted fascination for what he represents. The power he embodies. What his life must be like. Everything that makes him…
He steps inside the bathroom, and suddenly the spacious room feels tiny. He’s overwhelming: all expensive cologne and controlled power. I stare at the sharp line of his jaw, the flecks of rich brown in his dark eyes, the small scar cutting through his left eyebrow. The one that makes him look even more dangerous.And hotter, the sick part of my brain I want to strangle whispers.
One of his huge hands comes up to collar my throat, and I freeze at the contact. His palm is warm and calloused, touching me with possessiveness. And it feels good, so fucking good. Like I could let go. Let him take charge. Finally, rely on someone else. Let them hold me, care for me, fight my battles… But my brain reminds me it’s the same hand that held a gun to Marcus’s head without hesitation.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I push back my shoulders and stare him straight in the eye, determined to try one more time. “Don’t force me to marry you.”
His smile reveals perfect white teeth. It’s the smile of a predator who’s cornered his prey. And God help me, even that scary grin makes something big and warm and terrifyingly delicious unfurl in my stomach. I’m losing my mind. I have to be. Because no sane person would look at a killer and feel their pulse quicken for any reason other than terror.
“Marrying me is the only thing that’s going to keep you alive, baby.”
His thumb traces my skin, and I hate how my body responds with a shiver that has nothing to do with fear.
His dark eyes devouring every emotion passing over my face, Nikolai leans closer, and I’m trapped between his massive body and the sink. He’s towering over me, making me feel impossibly small despite my big-girl body. His breath is warm against my skin, and I can see the corded muscles of his neck, the way his expensive shirt stretches across his chest.
My body is betraying me in the worst possible way. Even terrified out of my mind, I can’t stop noticing how broad his shoulders are, how his suit can’t hide the powerful frame underneath. How amazing he smells… expensive cologne and something darker, pure male.
He’s a killer,I remind myself desperately.He put a gun to a man’s head and pulled the trigger without blinking.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I want to die from shame because it’s not entirely from fear. There’s something about the way he looks at me, like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever seen, that makes my body respond in a way that terrifies me.
I’m hot for my captor. A murderer. What kind of sick person does that make me?
“We need to go,” he says, stepping back. “The courthouse closes in an hour.”
“What if I say no? What if I refuse to say the words?”
