Page 134 of Twisted Little Game

And when I look to my side and see Roman, he just looks at peace.

I reach down to clutch his hand in mine and squeeze it tight, looking at the deep, blank ink of the tattoo that says honestas, just above his knuckles.

I love the way his inked fingers look entwined with mine.

I love the way it feels to hold him, knowing that he’s the kind of person who would write something like that beautiful secret.

I want my heart to be open, he wrote.

He doesn’t realize that it already has been.

Since the day I met him, and he took care of my self-inflicted wounds like I was someone who mattered.

Hours later, Roman’s had more than one glass of vodka on the rocks.

After the Confessional, all of the guys drank together downstairs, and I went outside to wait by the fire pit.

I knew I would have been welcome, if I wanted to stay.

But it had never been clearer that the Onyx Society is a true brotherhood, and right now, Roman needs to know that he still has a brotherhood, for life.

When he said he wanted to get out of the Petrov Bratva, I thought for sure that it had to be just an effect of the painkillers he was on at the hospital, or a reaction to the surgery, or a bold statement he didn’t actually mean.

I didn’t push him on it since that night.

For once, I let it simmer.

When he wanted to talk about it I knew he would.

When I heard that secret tonight my heart felt like it was overflowing, with… I don’t know what.

Pride. Care.

So much love that I don’t even know how to contain it.

I push the long iron rod into the wood at the center of the fire pit, and just as I’m getting it roaring again, I see the back doors of the house open up.

Roman comes out slowly, heading over, and I can see from the look in his eyes that he’s very tipsy.

He sits right next to me, gathering me against him.

“Give me your hand,” he says in a low voice near my ear. He smells like vodka, but I don’t think it smells too strong at all.

I put my hand out, and a moment later, he’s pulling it, taking something from his pocket.

Rope.

He gives me a half-lidded, authoritative stare.

He pushes my wrist to the armrest of the chair I’m sitting in, then easily ties me to it.

“Right here?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows.

But my cock is already responding, growing hard for him again.

“Yes, here. You afraid of the other guys coming outside?”

I pull in a short breath. “No. Not even a little bit.”