Page 30 of Bound in Vengeance
This is the version of him that matches all the stories I’ve heard. The monster. The killer. The blade. He’s been called many scary names, and I see why. There’s a calmness in his eyes as he delivers blow after blow, until the man is bloodied and crumpled on the ground.
Alessandro crouches slightly, grabbing him by the front of his jacket.
“Luca is moving without me,” he says, voice low. “So either you’re lying… or you’re a useless Kuznetsov.”
The man is shaking now. “I swear—I swear that’s all I know?—”
My thoughts scramble to catch up.
Oh…he’s obviously trying to extract information from this Kuznetsov man. So he wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t chasing an alliance with the Bratva, he just wanted information.
But that doesn’t mean I can trust him. One truth doesn’t mean he’s not a dangerous bastard. Danger is still danger.
Alessandro exhales slowly, like he’s deciding something.
Then he reaches into his coat.
My stomach drops instantly as he withdraws a knife.
The silver blade glints in the dim light as he raises it into the air, and a sharp, piercing scream cuts through the shadows. It’s only when Alessandro’s head snaps up and his dark eyes lock onto mine that I realize the scream came from me.
He’s seen me. Shit.
I turn to run, panic roaring through my veins as I hear his heavy footsteps tracking me. I quicken my pace, lunging back toward the stairwell. I’ve barely reached the first landing when a strong, ruthless hand fist my hair, yanking me backward into his solid, hard body.
The impact hits like concrete, and my body betrays me yet again, flaring with an instant, unwanted spark of desire at his touch.
He slams me against the wall, pinning me down with his weight. Lowering his head, he inhales sharply against my neck, breathing me in before his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my earlobe in a sharp, possessive bite.
I whimper, my hands bracing against the wall.
"Why are you always exactly where I am, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over my skin. "A man might start to think you're obsessed with him. Like you're only playing the reluctant bride."
I swallow down the lump in my throat, glaring up at him through the dark. "You wish."
A low, filthy laugh rumbles in his chest. I feel it against my back and almost arch into him.
“You know what I wish?” He trails his nose up the column of my neck. “That we finish what we started that first night. You on my bed as I sink my cock into you. Filling your stubborn mouth with my cum and watching you swallow with tears in your eyes. Then you’ll thank me for letting you worship me like that.”
A shudder runs through my body at his words. So vulgar. So dirty and depraved, so why am I responding like this? Why does my body feel warm and needy and hungry?
“You want it, don’t you?” His words breathe over my ear again. “I can tell.”
My blood boils at his arrogance, and before I can stop myself, I spit directly in his face.
The silence that follows is suffocating. I brace myself, my heart hammering against my ribs as I wait for the blow, expecting him to slap me or inflict some brutal punishment for the ultimate insult.
Instead, Alessandro smiles.
It’s a dark, dangerous expression that promises ruin. Using the grip he still has on my hair, he yanks my head back, forcing my mouth open, and crashes his lips down onto mine.
I melt into him instantly. The kiss is rough, angry, and completely uncivilized, fueled by the raw danger of what I just witnessed and an attraction I would never admit.
As he devours my mouth, he keeps his hand tangled viciously in my hair while his other hand roams my body without a shred of shame. A sudden warmth blooms between my legs, and out of pure instinct, I squeeze my thighs together, a helpless moan escaping down his throat.
Alessandro notices. He traces his hand down my torso, slipping it under the hem of my skirt until his palm hits my locked thighs. He bites down hard on my bottom lip, and when I gasp at the sharp sting, he plunges his tongue inside, reclaiming my mouth completely.
He slaps the side of my thigh, a sharp, commanding strike that makes my legs fly apart in shock. Before I can recover, his fingers press directly against the crotch of my panties. The fabric is already soaked with my wetness, and a wave of deep embarrassment hits me.
