Page 52 of Claimed By the Pakhan

“I’m killing you?”

His silence is the loudest thing in this room, ringing through my ears. I’m left with no other option but to grab his cock and shove it inside myself, feeling his words, allowing my body to experience his honesty.

I grip the edge of the kitchen countertop, stabilizing myself as tsunami waves of emotion rush through me, knocking me out of this reality, only to push me back into it, making me feel twice as much. The fire in my belly expands, reaching the very tips of my fingers and the soles of my feet.

Energy surges through me, distorting my vision. I open my eyes, desperate to look at the man fucking me, to reclaim some memories and feel like my old self, but I lose myself in the present. The past no longer exists, all previous versions of me irrelevant. How I felt before has no relevance to anything.

The world rocks as my orgasm edges closer. I dig my fingernails into my husband’s back, arching my own as the biggest tsunami wave yet prepares to crash over me.

“There’s my good girl,” affirms Emil, whispering in my ear. “Let yourself come for me. Holding back is a form of punishment, and trust me, sweetheart, I know how much you love letting go. The more we hold on and deny ourselves the truth, the taster it feels to release and surrender everything,” he whispers, peppering kisses along my neck.

“My sweet little spitfire,” grumbles Emil, finishing deep inside of me. “You can fly away, but there’s only so many places you can hide in this world. I’ll always bring you home, even in death.”

Why does that sound like a wedding vow?

Pleasure bursts, spilling in every direction. I explode around his cock, widening my legs to take him as deep as possible, needing to feel everything.

This time, I’m not counting on my memories returning, hoping to come home to myself and remember. Perhaps my body never felt like home until I found Emil and he showed me how to be free, away from facts and certainty.

17

EMIL

This isthe first time Fia falls asleep in my arms, which makes no sense, considering she refused to speak a word to me after the sex.

But I make the most out of what I can get.

I lie awake, remembering my encounter with Alexander. He knows who crashed into Fia and is being ambiguous as fuck about it.

Alexander is many things, a pain in my ass and a terrible leader, but he’s not a liar. If he says he saw the driver, he saw them, whether that was through his own eyes, or through a photograph taken by an associate.

Striking in the middle of the day isn’t Alexander’s forte. He only comes out at night, using the shadows to his advantage. Plotting to kill Fia at precisely 1:33 pm on a Tuesday when the streets are teeming with commuters on their lunch break would be a stupid idea, especially with all of those witnesses.

Approximately one hundred people saw the car hit her, but not one of them could identify the driver…

My heart thumps erratically in my chest, making sleep impossible. Sleep is for the weak, for those who are at peace with their life and carry no regrets. Fia has never had difficulty sleeping, and being by her side helps me relax, sometimes allowing me to drift off.

But from now on, I must sleep with one eye open… and even that is a luxury.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jas?” I hiss at my younger sister when I find her creeping around the dock after dark.

“I came to find you. Why are you out here this time of night? We have school tomorrow.”

“Father’s orders.”

“Fuck what Father thinks.”

“Father rebuilt our family from the ground up after we moved here a few years ago. We owe him our lives.”

“And you owe it to yourself to get the hell away from the docks. Do you ever switch on the TV and check out the news? Three bodies were found in one of the containers last week, registered to Father.”

“The cops won’t find him,” I reassure Jasmine. “He runs a tight ship.”

“He’s killing people. Wake up. I see the terror in your eyes every time you tell me it’s fine. Nothing about murder is fine, Em, and I know you think the same,” says Jasmine, a pleading look filling her eyes as she stares at me through the darkness. “You’ll turn into a carbon copy of him.”

“I’m trying to survive, Jas. Our lives in Moscow were rough, which is exactly why we moved, to rebuild.”

“Just to repeat the cycle?” challenges Jasmine. “Ask yourself why things were rough the first time around,” she says, glancing nervously over her shoulders, into the darkness. “Please,” she begs. “I can’t lose my father and brother. Life already sucks without you disappearing every night to work at the docks.” She keeps watching me. “Please tell me you haven’t?—?”