“You should’ve seen him, Talia. He destroyed the Chechen in seconds. It was unbelievable. It was all anyone could talk about.”
“And Alik?” Talia asked, and I sighed. “He was as cruel and as dynamic as always. He fought the Turk. He toyed with him for what felt like an age, gutting him piece by piece with his dagger. The crowd loved it, Abram smiling at his son proudly at the side of the cage, but I couldn’t watch. It was too much. I hate it when he kills them so slowly, so violently.”
Talia was silent, then said, “But you could watch Raze kill someone?”
Staring at the photo of me and Luka as kids, clutched in my hands, I squinted my eyes, studying his face, his beautiful face.
“Kisa?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I could watch him. He didn’t toy with his opponent, even though I’d heard he was a sick murderer from the streets and probably deserved it. He didn’t drag out the kill. He didn’t hang around the cage, jogging laps for the glory of the crowd. He left the cage and then, when I went to the holding rooms to see if he was okay, he and Viktor had already left the building. I don’t even know where he stays. I suppose he’s staying with Viktor. He’s so reclusive, private.”
Seconds went by before Talia said, “You’ve completely fallen for him, haven’t you?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I shut it again, declining to lie to my best friend. I wanted to tell Talia what I’d been thinking about Raze, that he had close similarities to Luka. That I had dreamed he was Luka, come back from wherever he’d disappeared to, from the dead. But I knew I couldn’t voice these words without proof. This was his sister. She’d already mourned for him, held her family together when he left … died.
“I’ve fallen for Raze,” I admitted and heard Talia sigh in trepidation.
“Be careful, Kisa. You’re skating on thin ice. You can’t fall for anyone outside of the Bratva, outside of this family,” Talia sternly warned.
Of course I knew she was really warning me about what Alik would do if he suspected anything was up.
“I will,” I replied, my cell beginning to beep as yet another call tried to come through.
“Tal, I’ve got to go. I’ve got another call … It’s Alik,” I said, suddenly feeling drained.
“Well, you’d better answer him. He already hates me. I don’t want to give him more ammunition. Speak soon,” Talia promised, and I pressed the button to hear music blaring through the speaker.
“Alik?” I shouted, holding the phone away from my ear.
“Myshka?” Alik shouted over the music. “Just calling to check you were home and in bed.”
My stomach tensed and anger made me seethe. Alik wasn’t checking for my safety. He was making sure I was back in my version of the cage—obeying his rules, accepting his control of me—while he went out to play, dipping his wick in anything with a wet pussy.
“I’m home. I’m going to bed,” I replied tersely.
“Good. Don’t leave,” he ordered harshly. I closed my eyes, trying to rein in my ire, when a female voice enticed Alik to go to a back room with her.
“Where are you, Alik?” I asked with feigned politeness.
Stony silence greeted me until the music faded and the sound of a door closing came through the speaker.
“I’m out. It doesn’t fucking matter where,” Alik said darkly. “I’m doing Bratva business. I’m here with associates.”
“You’re at The Triangle?” I guessed. The titty club the Bratva owned, that his father managed. After Alik fought, he had to fuck. Normally, it was me who had to suffer against the wall at the back of The Dungeon, but this time we finished late because Alik had drawn out his kill. Papa ordered me straight home, courtesy of Serge, and of course, he wouldn’t let me stay at Alik’s place overnight, not until we were married, so Alik took his cock to the sluts. I knew with these women, he really let his true colors show. I’d heard that some ended up in such a state that they’d been hospitalized. Talia had heard rumors that some of the women he fucked, once they’d disappeared into a private room with my fiancé, were never heard from or seen again.
As screwed up as it sounded, I was glad he took out his sick fantasies on them and not me. Yet strangely, I knew as messed up as Alik was, he would never hurt me … not unless I tried to break free of him. My life was safer with him if I acted the role of the perfect Bratva wife. What hurt most was my father was so proud of me for taking that honorable mantle.
“Shut the fuck up, Myshka. I’m out, working off the fight. Your papa took your wet cunt from me or you’d be screaming under me right now. Even though his wrinkled dick is here in the club with me, getting sucked off by hookers your age. You know I need to fuck, but these sluts are never you, baby, never my Myshka. They’re just whores, nothing but cum bags. I think of you the whole time I’m inside them, picturing you squirming beneath me, scratching my back. How’s that? That make you feel better? You just sit tight at home and I’ll see you tomorrow. And as long as you stay inside, we don’t have problems. Yes?”
“Yes,” I whispered in reply, feeling sick to my stomach.
“I love you, Myshka,” Alik said, his harsh tone thawing a few degrees.
“I love you too,” I replied. It was rote, sounding more like a Stepford Wife than a loving fiancée besotted with her true love.
The cell went dead, and I leapt from my bed, hand to my forehead as despair swept through me. I hated this damn life, trapped in a cage by Papa and Alik’s psychotic obsession. I was twenty-five, for Christ’s sake, yet I was locked away like some virginal fifteen-year-old.
At times I hated my life.
The Byki would be downstairs, protecting the Pakhan’s stronghold, in reality stopping me from leaving the front door, but I just had to get out. I needed fresh air. And I’d never disobeyed rules, so even contemplating sneaking out was causing me to break into cold sweats.
Grabbing my jacket from my closet, I swung it on and headed to my window. Carefully opening it, I crept onto the fire escape. Tiptoeing down the metal stairs, I jumped onto the sidewalk. Checking that I hadn’t been seen, I began walking in the shadows, occasionally glancing up at the night sky, picturing Raze’s eyes meeting mine as he won the fight, my relief of his victory evident on my face.
He had looked for me. He’d found me in the sea of gambling men.
Lord! I couldn’t get him from my head! I was going crazy wondering if this mysterious homeless man could be my Luka.
The sound of a car pulling up beside me made me turn. Headlights flared and blinded me. I jumped back, suddenly fearful of who might be after me. Then Serge’s familiar face came into view, his window open and his light eyes boring into mine.
“Serge!” I said, out of breath and in shock.
“Miss Volkova, what are doing out of the house? You know it’s not allowed.” Serge reprimanded me, and then all I felt was pissed off.
“Serge, I needed fresh air. My fiancé and my papa are out at a titty bar. Alik’s probably screwing a long line of whores while I’m trapped inside my bedroom like a naughty child. He told me not to move or I’d piss him off, and that’s not how a good wife of a Bratva boss should act. So I needed some fresh air, okay? I’m twenty-five, I run a multimillion-dollar gambling ring made up of murderers and psychos, and I just wanted to take a damn walk on my own for once in my life!”
Serge’s face softened as I panted, my breath lost through exertion, and pulling the car to a stop, he got out of the driver’s door.
“You can’t be out here, Kisa. It’s too dangerous. Too many men wanting revenge on your papa, Alik, Abram, Ivan … Hell, take your pick! I know you feel trapped. I’m not stupid. I’ve been with you since you were little, but I can’t disobey orders or they’ll kill me.”
Dropping my head, feeling guilty at my tirade, I insisted, “I’m not going back yet, Serge. I’m suffocating under their rules. I’m drowning…” Tears filled my eyes and I tried in vain to blink them away, but I found myself whispering, “I’m miserable.”
Serge sighed and stepped forward, pulling me into his chest for a hug. “Then I’ll drive you somewhere. That way I’ll know you’re safe and you can still have some freedom.”
Tipping my head back at the bright moon, I then looked to Serge. “Fine, thank you. Please take me to the gym. I may as well get some work done if I can’t sleep.”
Serge’s face relaxed and he opened the rear door for me, nodding his approval. He slipped back into the driver’s seat, and we raced through the streets of Brooklyn. I smiled at the groups of women stumbling from bars with their friends, not a care in the world, and the couples wrapped around each other’s waists, high off being together, enjoying each other’s company—probably heading back home to make love.
I was happy for those people, but what I felt was crushing disappointment. It would never be me. I would never be allowed out with friends. I would never, could never, have a loving relationship with Alik. Jealous possession isn’t love. I knew that much. He would always control me. I was becoming so desperate to escape my fate that I was imagining a homeless fighter being the only boy I’d ever loved.
I would be a prisoner until I died … the life of a Bratva queen.
Deciding to close my eyes to any other sight that would cause me pain, I rested my head back on the seat and zoned out until we arrived at the gym.
As I opened the back passenger door, Serge tried to follow me inside to the gym.
“No, Serge, please. I want to be alone,” I pleaded.
Serge stopped in his tracks.
“Miss Volkova, you know I can’t leave you. It is forbidden.”
“I know. Can you please just wait out here until I’m ready to go home? Please … I need some time alone.”
Serge stared at me, and my stomach rolled, thinking he was going to say no, when on a sigh he shook his head. “I’ll wait in the car. If you need me, call,” he said, getting back into the cab and waving his cell to show me he was keeping it close by. Giving him a thankful smile, I unlocked the side door and entered the sparse and empty warehouse-turned-gym, switching on only minimum lights. I headed for my place of solitude, my office.
As I approached the office door, I noticed a muted glow coming from under one of the training room doors at the back of the gym. I frowned. Nobody was meant to be here. The gym had been locked and secured once all the fighters had gone to The Dungeon earlier in the day.
Someone was here.
Feeling a sense of fear run down my spine, I hurried to my office safe and, checking over my shoulder, opened a heavy door to pull out my Beretta. Papa insisted I could access one of these bad boys wherever I went—all over our house and at several secret locations here at work.
My breathing was shallow as fear took hold. I walked slowly and silently toward the back room that emitted the light. Rather too preoccupied with steadying my shaking limbs, I took little note of where I was and whose training room it was.
Standing at the door, I steeled my nerves and took in a deep breath before placing my hand on the doorknob and slowly turning it. The door creaked open.
Bringing my gun up higher, I edged through the doorway. The first thing I noticed was a mat on the floor and a thick blanket forming what looked to be a makeshift bed.
Someone was sleeping here?
Who—?
Taking me off guard, a hand slapped across my mouth. I tried to scream as I was quickly disarmed and held in an unyielding grip. Warm breath ghosted past my ears and a pit of dread opened in my stomach.
I could feel a heart pounding in the attacker’s chest pressed to my back. All I could think was that my father wouldn’t cope if I died too. He’d lost my brother, my mother, and I was now sure I was going to die here too, until my attacker rasped out, “Stop struggling.”
All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and every muscle froze, obeying his command.
“Good,” he growled. “Don’t scream and I’ll remove my hand.”
I nodded awkwardly, still trapped in his grip. As I tried to relax my muscles, his hand gradually pulled away from my mouth. His large body stepped back from being flush to my back.
Unsure if my feet would work, I started to turn, hearing deep breathing behind me. The dull glow from the adjoining bathroom was the only light in the dim room, the man’s shadow darkening the old whitewash wall.
Holding my breath, I whipped myself around and immediately gasped when I found Raze glaring at me. Dressed only in black boxer briefs, his large muscled, ripped body tensed as he watched me with those hypnotic brown eyes.
“Raze?” I whispered, legs now feeling like Jell-O.
Raze watched me and his nostrils flared, his cheeks flushing as heat rose up his face. “Kisa…” he rasped out, almost like he was in pain.
As my name tumbled from his lips, my stomach tingled, my breasts ached, and moisture pooled between my legs. Raze had switched on every part of my body, as if it were on fire.
Edging closer, feeling the waves of heat from his body, his fresh scent hit me, and a whimper escaped my lips. A rumble sounded in Raze’s chest. My need to touch him, to feel him, grew to an impossibly high level. By the clenching of his fists at his sides, the gritting of his teeth, and those hungry eyes, I knew he wanted me too … desperately.
“Raze…” I whispered as my toes met his and, unconsciously, my finger lifted to run down his stubbled cheek. There wasn’t a scratch on his body from the fight tonight. “Why are you here?”
Raze’s eyes closed at my touch. Looking down, I saw him harden beneath his black boxers, the material straining with his size. My hand continued to travel down, shivers wracking Raze’s skin at my touch, his full lips parting to let a slow hiss of breath slip from his mouth.
At this moment, I wasn’t thinking of Alik, my father, my duty as a Volkova, or even the consequence of touching Raze like this. The need to break free from my suffocating life was driving me forward, making me reckless in my choices.
All I could think was how beautiful Raze was. How strong and fearless, how feral, how raw. He was untamed. He had no social grace, was devoid of knowledge about how to be a regular person. He was curt and aggressive, but his expressive eyes, when they looked at me, made me feel safe, made me see there was someone else in there … someone my soul matched. Gave me faith that he wasn’t the monster he seemed.
“I sleep here,” he answered eventually. His body remained as still as a statue as I continued to marvel at his muscles, drinking in his demonic tattoos, wondering why he had such evil images permanently etched on his skin.
My finger stopped its exploration and my eyes looked up to his. “You’re staying here?”
“I have nowhere else to go,” he replied gruffly. And with that, pain sliced through my chest as if my heart had split in two.
Raze dipped his head to escape my sympathetic gaze.
I lifted my finger and tipped up his chin. I stayed silent until his eyes looked to mine, and I asked, “Where have you come from?”
Emotion leaked from his expression and he whispered, “Hell.”
My attention was drawn to the demons on his chest, the number, then his tallies … and finally to the newest addition scraped onto his skin—his kill from tonight.
The air seemed to pulse around us as some unexplainable force pulled us together. Raze’s neck tensed, every vein and threaded cord protruding. He was physically holding himself back from me.
I was fighting the attraction, tensing my thighs as I squirmed, trying to alleviate the pressure building at my core. But when my palms landed on Raze’s chest, his hot skin almost scalding my palms, he leaned in, his nose tucking into the crook of my neck.
I moaned as he inhaled and growled, “I want you.”
Three words. Three simple words became my undoing. Spoken roughly, dominantly, yet it sounded like poetry to my soul.
Without giving me time to think, Raze gripped my arms and drove me backward until my ass hit the wall. He was panting into my neck. Releasing a hungry groan, my hands grasped his messy sandy hair, and I tipped back my head, giving him more access. As his bulging thigh slipped between my legs, his stiff cock brushed against my throbbing clit.
“Raze!” I cried out as pleasure took hold, and I pulled on the thick strands of his hair.
Raze let out a sound like the snarl of a wild animal. He reared back his head, his unsure brown eyes looking into my blue, and he asked nervously, “Can I have you?”
My heart beat so fast at the severity of want on his face that I thought I would pass out, or my heat would shatter me into a million pieces.
Raze squeezed his eyes shut as his arms wrapped around me, holding me so close, like he was scared I would try to run away.
“Can I have you? I want to have you … I need to have you,” he whispered, his deep voice guttural and rough, tense like a taut rope about to snap.
Letting any lingering worries flee my mind, I threw my arms around his perfectly sculpted shoulders and, brushing my mouth past his ear, whispered, “You can have me, Raze. You can have all of me.”
Raze stilled, long seconds ticking by, but then I felt the slow, wet lick of his tongue along the side of my neck, and he sprang into motion.
His arms released me. Suddenly, my shirt was ripped apart at the seams, the buttons spraying on the ground. Raze’s face was determined, and he was lost in his lust.
My breasts were hard under my bra, aching to be touched. Focusing his brown eyes on my heaving chest, Raze ripped my bra apart, bare breasts exposed, and his mouth immediately latched onto a hard, raised nipple. His tongue furiously licked at my flesh and my eyes rolled back at the sensation. I almost came just at the feel of his hot mouth on my skin.
“Raze…” I murmured, clutching his muscles in my hands, becoming more and more turned on by the rough and scarred skin under my palms.
Untamed and savage growls ripped from Raze’s throat. His hands lowered and spilt apart my pants. The material tearing in two, he threw them to the ground. I stood there only in my string black thong, arms still gripping Raze’s bulking biceps. Raze stepped back and his wide eyes drank me in from head to toe, his cock now so hard it nearly ripped through his boxers. Still transfixed at my exposed breasts, Raze dipped his hand into his boxers and began sliding it up and down his dick in what had to be the best torture on Earth.
“Raze … I need you. Let me have you too,” I moaned as I palmed my breasts, pinching my nipples as I watched this usually controlled man come slowly undone.
Grumbling something I couldn’t make out, Raze wrenched down his boxers, his long, thick cock coming into view. I almost passed out at how strong and wild he appeared, about to take me … or in his words, have me.
“Raze, please,” I begged one more time, and this time something within him snapped. Lurching forward, Raze’s hands went straight to my thong, his legs bent, and he snapped the thin piece of string from my body. I was now totally bare.
His calloused hands smoothed up my thighs, over my hips, my waist, before moving in to cup my breasts. I watched his eyes ignite with need, and I slipped my right hand down his stacked abs and wrapped it around the wide girth of his cock. Raze threw back his head and hissed as his fingers pinched my nipple, and I slowly began to stroke my hand up and down, loving watching him fall apart.
Raze’s left hand slapped against the wall behind me, his hips rocking back and forth with the movement of my hand. His eyes were closed, his mouth gaping; he looked breathtaking, and I found myself begging, “Kiss me.”
Raze abruptly stilled and his eyes snapped open, the smudge of blue seeming to shine like the clearest sea against the dark canvas of the brown.
My eyebrows furrowed at his strange reaction, and he jerked back a few steps, my naked body now feeling cold.
“Raze?” I questioned, and he started pacing the floor before me, his face torn and panicked.
“Raze?” I pushed again, and his eyes slid to mine, then away again. I felt our connection slipping. I had no idea what I’d done.
Feeling a chill settle over my naked skin, I turned to cover my breasts with my hands, when Raze released a pained groan and came at me again, his chest and hips pinning me against the wall and his large palms on my cheeks. His eyes were focused on my lips, and he was panting hard, but my heart fell when I saw nervousness in his eyes.
My hands cupped his cheeks and Raze looked to me. “Raze?” I asked. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
A wash of uncertainty and then perhaps embarrassment engulfed his face. “I … I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t remember.”
Tears pricked my eyes. What the hell had happened to him? And where the hell had he come from?
“It’s okay,” I said and began leaning in. Raze stiffening at the action. He was like a statue as my lips hovered just an inch from his, and I whispered, “Can I have you?” My heart beat frantically.
Raze’s shoulders relaxed, and I used the opportunity to press my lips against his. My heart instantly swelled and a sense of souls merging filled me so much it was almost unbearable.
Raze’s hands on my cheeks, at first unmoving, tightened their grip, and his lips slowly began working against mine. That was all it took. One touch, one kiss, and something within him snapped and his mouth possessed mine, his tongue spearing into my mouth, controlling mine.
Feeling a wetness between my thighs, I moaned and began grinding against his thigh, then shifted over until his cock was flush against my pussy. I tried to rip my lips from his mouth, but Raze’s seemed fused to mine. He wouldn’t let go. He owned me with the kiss, having me, completely having me.
My hand ran down between us and I cupped his balls, massaging them in the palm of my hand. Raze let out a roar into my mouth, and his hips started thrusting into my hand, his cock sliding along the drenched folds of my pussy.
Managing to pull my mouth away, I demanded, “Fuck me, Raze … Fuck me.”
And that was all it took. In seconds, Raze had flipped me around and bent me over the nearby bench, my cheek pressed to the hard wood. I didn’t even think about protection. As stupid of me as this was, I really didn’t care. I was on the pill, and at this moment, it was enough.
Something in my gut told me to just trust him.
I felt his fingers on the cheeks of my ass, but he’d trapped me in place, and I whimpered at his strong touch. Then his fingers were suddenly running down the crack of my ass, and every part of me tensed.
“Raze!” I called in alarm as his finger pushed into the tight hole, and I tried to get up. His firm hand held me in place and panic replaced passion as I fought back against this unwelcome intrusion. The finger soon pulled out, but when I looked back and saw him fist his cock and head for the same place, I began fighting to lift off the bench as the tip pressed flush against the one place I didn’t want him to go.
“Raze! Stop!” I ordered.
Raze’s jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on mine.
“Not there!” I begged, witnessing his eyebrows pull down in confusion. My fear this time was replaced with sadness when I realized he didn’t understand why I was protesting.
Fighting back the rising lump in my throat, I said, “Lower.” I saw Raze look down at my pussy, and confusion clouded his face. “Lower, fuck me in the other hole.” I guided, a devastating truth becoming evident in my mind.
Raze … where the hell have you come from?
“I don’t understand,” Raze rasped, his face and tensed body racked with confusion.
Leaning back, I took his dick in my hand and slid him along my pussy. When he was at the entrance and his thick thighs rested against the back of mine, I said, “Now push in. Fuck me here.”
Raze’s gaze focused back on his breaching cock. Reaching out to grip my hips, he began pushing forward, the tip slipping into my entrance. Then he suddenly stilled, and I relaxed, cherishing the sensation, just in time for Raze to dig his fingers into my hips to an almost agonizing grip and surge forward, slamming into my channel until he was fully rooted to the hilt.
“Raze!” I screamed out as he roared, and I could feel his hands physically shaking as his chest met my back and he panted hot breath into my hair.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and his hips began rocking back and forth, his dick so wide it scraped against my G-spot, my eyes closing as I savored the feel of him within me. I could feel him everywhere: within my body, in my heart … in my soul.
“Kisa…” Raze groaned as his hand brushed my hair from my back and his warm lips pressed to the skin on the nape of my neck, making me shiver. His lips dragged down my spine, making me moan uncontrollably, and then his tongue began to lap at my damp skin.
“I remember this,” he said as his hips became more demanding, his cock plunging farther within me, all sense floating from my mind.
“I remember something. It felt so good. It feels so good … with you … only with you…”
Tears misted my eyes, and I pictured my first time … with Luka. We were too young, too inexperienced, but that memory was my world. I felt like I was making love to Luka again. Everything about the way he was cherishing me, made me think of Luka.
Feeling Raze begin to build to orgasm, I wanted to go with him. Needed to find release at the same time. Reaching behind me, I took his hand and brought it around my waist and placed his fingers on my clit.
“Circle your fingers here. I want to come with you. Stroke my clit and make us come together,” I instructed.
Raze rumbled a groan as my clenching channel wrapped around his cock, spurring my orgasm further.
Raze’s length seemed to grow bigger as he thrust inside me faster, the man savage and fierce in his lovemaking, wild and primitive, focusing only on our pleasure.
That burst of delicious tension began burning at the bottom on my spine and surges of heat spread to my clit. I felt Raze’s thighs tighten against my legs as his fingers became frenzied, as his thrusts became stronger, longer, harder, and rougher.
“Kisa,” he hushed out as the sweating skin of his torso slapped at my back. I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn’t speak. When he pounded into me one last time, stilling and bellowing out as he came, I tipped over the edge with him, indescribable pleasure making me see lights.
Raze’s arms wrapped tight around my stomach as his knees hit the floor, causing him to sit back, taking me with him. I sat in his lap, his sated cock still jerking inside me.
As the minutes passed in silence, his breathing settled, and I stroked along his toned forearms, treasuring the closeness, treasuring the most meaningful sex of my life.
As my fingertips danced on his arm, a low rumble sounded in his chest, and I smiled. He liked my touch. Raze then moved his legs, and standing, keeping me locked in his arms, he carried me to his makeshift bed and laid us down. He kept me secure in the strong hold of his arms; he couldn’t bear to let me go. As possessive as this move was, I loved every second of it. I’d never felt more complete than I did in his embrace, locked to his chest.
Lifting his rough and scarred hand, I pressed my lips to the skin, enjoying his warmth on my back.
Hearing a staggered sigh slip from Raze’s mouth, I tensed and then my world splintered into sorrow when he whispered, “I … I didn’t know it was like that.” His deep, husky voice was filled with shame, embarrassment. Unable to stand the ache in my heart, I turned in his arms and the desolate look in his eyes cut me as deep as any dagger could.
He lowered his gaze, and my heart beat more rapidly as I stroked my fingertips over his cheek. “Tell me what happened to you … please. I want to know.”
Raze’s face turned to stone as I watched him war with different emotions. Then he shook his head, his brown eyes darkening. “I … I was in the Gulag.”
Slowly sitting up on my elbow, I stroked back the messy strands from Raze’s head as his forefinger landed on my breast and began circling the nipple, his tongue sliding along his lips.
“Gulag?” I questioned, trying to stay focused. “Isn’t that some kind of old Russian prison from the war?”
Raze nodded and his finger began to shake. “It was a prison. We named it the Gulag because of its shitty conditions. One where they keep you caged until they force you to fight to the death.”
Anger contorted his beautifully masculine face, and I leaned forward to press a kiss onto his lips. The shaking immediately stopped and a moan caught in his throat.
Pulling back, his pupils dilated, he stole my breath. He looked so much like Luka at that moment I found it difficult to deal with the possibility.
Because if Raze was my Luka, I was about to hear what had happened to him all those years ago when we all believed he had died. When we were told he had been burned … When he had been torn from my life, without explanation, cutting my soul in half.
“Why were you there?”
Raze’s eyebrows furrowed, and I could see he was fighting to remember. When a black look came across his face, his mouth tightened and he said, “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything but death, violence, pain and…”
My breathing came short when I thought of how he was going to take me. He was going to …
Shuffling closer to Raze, until we touched skin to skin, I threaded my fingers through his hair and asked, “Why were you going to take me from behind … like that? Did … did…?” I stopped talking, unable to ask the obvious question. There had to be an explanation, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it.
Raze’s brown eyes widened and he dipped his chin, hiding his head from view. He was such an enigmatic hulk of man, but at that question, his face clouded over like a storm. His position became fetal.
“Raze…” I said, choking on a sudden rush of sadness as he slowly lifted his head.
“I remember the first time one of them came into my cell. He was big, and I’d just been beaten with a bat. I couldn’t move, but I watched him walk toward me, untying his belt and pulling down his zipper. I remember being pushed onto my stomach. Then I remember pain. Pain like nothing I’d felt before. Then all I can remember is blocking everything out. Blocking those cunts out every time they came into my cell, until I was too big for them to control, too big and dangerous for them to fuck.”
Without him knowing, his hand had gripped mine and he was squeezing it like I was giving him strength to continue, like he was drawing the courage and the strength from me to talk about these horrific rapes. I could barely see through the torrent of tears falling down my cheeks, trying to think of ways to make everything better for him.
“Raze, oh my God,” I cried and pressed my forehead to his, devastated this had been part of his life in the Gulag.
He said nothing in response, but his grip on my hand didn’t loosen. I guessed it was the first time in years he had been comforted. Of course, I had heard of conditions in Russian-owned underground prisons, but what I’d heard didn’t compare to what Raze had revealed.
“How old were you?” I asked, peppering kisses down his cold, stubbled cheeks.
Raze clenched my hair in his hands and said, “I … I don’t know. It’s hard to know my age. None of us ever had birthdays.”
Regaining some composure, not wishing to drown him with my suspicions, I continued. “And they made you fight? To the death? As a child?”
Raze nodded his head once, gaze blanking out, taking him off somewhere else. “Yes. They ran a gambling ring. Just like this one.”
Nausea built in my stomach as he compared The Dungeon to the Gulag. At least I had the comfort of knowing we didn’t imprison and serially abuse kids, forcing them to fight until the death.
“Raze, I don’t know what to say. I’m devastated for you,” I said, feeling inadequate—no, pathetic.
Raze gripped the back of my head and pulled me down and timidly kissed me. I was immediately lost to his familiar kiss.
Raze broke away and stared at me. “There was a breakout. Some fighters got free and murdered the night guards. There were always less guards at nighttime. The rest of the prisoners rioted and started fleeing.”
“How did you get free?”
Raze’s lip hooked into a smirk. “362.”
“362?” I questioned, confused.
“362. Another fighter, the only one I ever spoke to.” The tone of his voice had changed.
“He was your friend,” I surmised.
Raze’s half smile reverted to an impassive expression.
“Friend?” he asked as if he were savoring the sound of the word on his tongue.
My heart bruised just that little bit more. He had no idea what a friend was.
“Yes, your friend. You spoke with him, spent time with him. Confided in him … Liked him?”
“I trained with him. He helped me adjust to life in the Gulag. Taught me how to block things out. We would never fight. We were the Gulag’s two best fighters. When the riot happened, he freed me. Most of the others would never have dared approach me. They were too scared of me. But not him.”
A smile pulled on my lips, and I asked, “And where is he now? Did you come together to New York?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know where he went. West somewhere. We all just ran.”
Raze stared and stared at me. I assumed I’d pushed too far for one night. Color had drained from his cheeks and his body sagged. Feeling warmth spread in my chest at his devoted attention, I pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Raze’s expression softened. His finger landed on my neck and traveled down to my breast. I closed my eyes, once again cherishing his touch.
“I want to touch you,” he said. His finger stopped and he looked into my eyes.
Taking my hand, I brushed my finger over his left eye, the one with that smudge of blue.
Biting my lip, I mustered the courage to ask, “Have you noticed that your left eye has a smudge of blue amongst the brown?”
Raze studied me, and his hand lifted to touch his eye, his eyebrows pulled down. I held my breath, waiting for what he had to say. And then hope bloomed within me when his head tilted to the side in confusion and his full lips pursed.
“We match,” he rasped out and narrowed his eyes, observing the color of my eyes. “Your blue is the same color in my left eye.”
My bottom lip trembled. I could no longer hold back the sob choking my throat. Raze would have no idea why I was crying. How could he know that saying those two words—”we match”—could, in tandem, inspire such high hopes and such deep sorrow within me.
This was Luka. This had to be Luka. Of this I was becoming more and more convinced. It no longer felt like an obsessive fancy, some stupid teenage, love-struck hope that this damaged and raw man was created just for me. I believed more and more that this was real, veritable, tangible, a soul-colliding connection from God.
This man, this tortured and scary hulk of a man seemed to be my match. Mama seemed to have been right all along; even lost, it looked like we had found our way back to one another. But if this was my Luka, he was broken. Had no memory. I dared not push too fast, too far, for fear of scaring him away.
Taking his hand still resting near my eye, I pulled down the palm and laid a kiss to its center. “We match,” I whispered back. Raze’s lips stretched into a smile. That smile, the brief flicker of happiness on his face was my undoing.
My God, he was beautiful.
Shifting Raze’s hand down to my breast, his expression morphed from happiness to lust. His fingers squeezed my flesh and I closed my eyes and moaned.
“I like touching you,” Raze murmured.
Then I placed my hand on Raze’s shoulder and pushed him onto this back. He let me control the situation, and I knew it was because of his inexperience. It made the moment that bit more special to me. He trusted me enough to let me lead the way. I straddled his hips and immediately I felt his cock harden and push against my ass.
Our gazes locked and electricity arced between us. Raze’s hips began lifting, searching for my entrance. Leaning forward, I placed my hands on his chest and slowly impaled myself on his length. Not once did I tear my eyes away from his face; I drank in every wave of pleasure as it rushed across.
As I moaned and took him fully inside, I started to gently move up and down. Raze closed his eyes, his hands holding my hips.
“Open your eyes,” I whispered, but Raze shook his head, his forehead wrinkling in concentration.
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a twinge of insecurity rippling through me, until Raze gasped and said, “I’m closing my eyes so I can feel being inside you.” He placed his hand over his heart and rasped out, “I’ve seen too many bad things with these eyes. This, I will feel in my heart.”
Water fell from my eyes at his beautiful but heartbreaking words, and resting my breasts on his chest, I placed soft kisses on his neck as I worked my hips faster. More rumbling growls of pleasure sounded from his throat.
Raze’s hand slipped around my waist to my back, and my breath came faster as I felt myself building to orgasm, his satisfied grunts telling me he was nearly there too. Licking and nipping at his throat, I journeyed my lips to his mouth, and Raze immediately met me kiss for kiss, our tongues wet, hot and dueling, as shivers ran up and down my spine. I came so quickly and so powerfully that I pulled my mouth from Raze’s and cried out in pleasure.
Raze’s long groan soon joined mine and I felt his warmth flood my womb, his hands holding down my hips to extract every moment of pleasure.
Fighting to catch my breath, I lay contentedly in Raze’s arms.
“Kisa…” he whispered, rolling my name on his tongue, and I froze, praying he would say something else. I know you. I remember you. You’re the girl I was designed to love, my God-given match, my solnyshko. But he didn’t. Instead, he inhaled a deep breath and said, “Why do I feel like I’ve known you all my life?”
And at that moment I knew …
My beating heart exploded like a supernova of light. I savored this moment and a smile tugged on my mouth. He might not remember specifics, but deep down in his tragically damaged mind, in the mind blocking out his past to protect him from the present, my Luka … my Raze … He knew me. He felt that connection that always kept us close.
“Kisa-Anna,” he murmured as he raked his fingers hypnotically through my hair.
I sucked in a sharp breath, and Raze clearly felt it, felt my shocked reaction. His hands stopped dead.
Lifting my head, I stared at him through blurred eyes and asked, “Why did you call me Kisa-Anna?”
Raze opened his mouth to speak but slowly closed it again. “I don’t…” His eyes squinted closed and he ran his hand over his head as though he was hit with a migraine.
“Raze?” I asked.
He blinked, then blinked again. “I don’t know why I called you that … but I think … I think that’s your name. It feels right.”
Nodding through my tears, I said, “Yes. It does feel right.”
I laid my head on Raze’s chest and closed my eyes, relishing his touch while I could. But I knew I had to go, and after I didn’t know how long spent in his arms, I reluctantly tore myself from his body, looking down to see his face … a face that appeared … hurt?
“I can’t have you, can I?” he asked, devastation in his voice.
“I … I … It’s complicated,” I stammered and began scooping up my ruined clothes, trying to dress as best I could with the tattered bits of material, praying that my long summer jacket would cover me.
“It’s because of Durov, isn’t it?” he pushed, the feral, untamed side reasserting itself.
“He’s a dangerous man, Raze.”
Raze got to his feet and gripped my wrist, preventing me from pulling up my pants. “So am I.”
“I know, Raze. I know. But you don’t understand. We’re engaged. There’s expectations,” I explained, but I continued to dress. Mixed emotions and thoughts clouded my mind. Questions welled up. Could I explain all I knew to Raze? Did I dare tell him about his connection to the Bratva? How could I make him remember what happened to my brother, if he did kill him? And how could I ever get out from under Alik’s controlling hand?
“But I want you. Will you come back again tomorrow? I need you. I want to touch you again. I can’t bear to think of you with him.”
Dressed as best as I could manage, Raze’s fingers linked through mine, and when I looked up, he was staring at me in deep concentration, his eyes darting from side to side, like he was trying to remember something. I was mush the moment his head tilted to the side and his lips pursed.
This was definitely my Luka.
I had to figure something out.
“I’ll be back here tomorrow after dark,” I told him. Raze’s tense shoulders sagged in relief. “But tomorrow when you train, you can’t let on to Alik that we’ve been together. He can’t find out.”
Raze tensed again. “He doesn’t faze me.”
I touched his cheek and said, “I know. But we really need to keep this quiet.”
Raze blew an annoyed breath through his nostrils, but he nodded in agreement. Balancing on tiptoes, I pressed a kiss to his full lips, once more admiring his naked ripped body. Reluctantly, I backed out of the room, keeping his gaze until I closed the door on the lost love of my life.
My head was spinning, my stomach filled with both fear and excitement.
Exiting the gym, I caught Serge’s questioning glance as I slipped into the car, but I ignored it, still feeling the aftereffects of Raze inside me.
I smiled to myself.
Kisa-Anna … Only Luka ever called me that name.
I had found my love again.
I just had to make him remember who I was to him … before the Gulag changed him. Before he’d been ripped from my life.