Chapter Two
Freedom lay a few steps from her. Eve could bolt out of the bed, fly down those stairs and out the door, but she’d still need clothes. With nothing on her, calling for help would be difficult. Then it hit her again.
Who would she call? Everyone she’d known had been gunned down. Those had been the lucky ones. The survivors had it worse. She could still hear Clarissa screaming from two rooms down, Raul begging for mercy, but none of the invaders had shown any.
Stephen, one of her uncles, had barged into her room when the attack started, telling her to hide under her bed and lock her room until the cops or their allies arrived. In the end, none of those actions saved her. Grief threatened to rise up in her, to reduce her to a shaking, weeping mess, but Eve also knew breaking down wasn’t the answer. She had to help herself, and to do that, she needed her wits about her.
Her gaze shifted to Vadim. As he stood barefoot on the balcony dressed only in a pair of jeans, she noticed the sleek, tanned muscles of his back, the scrollwork of ink lining it. Eve spotted a skull wrapped with thorns and roses, a cross, chains, a pair of wings, and words she couldn’t read. She looked away, disgusted with herself for all those years wasted, pining and longing for a monster who wouldn’t hesitate to end her family for a price.
Freedom or vengeance? Both choices whispered to her, but the gun made the decision for her. On the armchair by the bed, Vadim had carelessly left his shoulder holster. One revolver peeked out, a tempting tool of murder but perfect for the man who wielded it.
Eve slipped out of bed, careful not to make a noise. Reaching the armchair, she glanced at Vadim again, still on the phone, one inked hand holding onto a cigarette stick. Those hands, which once held hers, were the same hands that helped end her family.
Eve knew how to hold a gun, had taken lessons with Clarissa. Any woman of the Valentin family knew how to defend herself, or that had been the idea anyway.
With trembling fingers, she picked it up, unfamiliar with the weight of it. The grip had been custom-made, inlaid with a silver cross. She remembered Vadim mentioning to her once about being raised a Catholic, despite coming from a family of killers. One conversation. A single dance. That was all they had, and yet she memorized every single word they’d exchanged, replayed those words in her head after her mother forbade her to see him again.
Carefully cradling the gun, she approached him. Too easy. Some part of her warned this must be some trick. Two feet away from her, he turned, ending the call, letting the cigarette fall from his fingers, amusement in those green eyes.
“Are you going to kill me, princess?”
“Don’t call me that,” she whispered.
Eve could have pulled the trigger sooner. This close, she might miss, but she could try again. He walked closer, and she hesitated, hand trembling even harder as he positioned his chest right at the gun. Metal kissed skin.
“I don’t understand you. You murdered my family, kidnapped me to do God knows what, and now, you’re giving me a chance to kill you?” she demanded, wanting answers.
Why would he want to claim her as payment? What had been so special about her? “Gustav Petrovich had been planning this for a long time. If McDaniel and his men failed, he has a plan B and C. Gustav wouldn’t stop hunting every member of the Valentin family down.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Just because Clarissa didn’t marry his son?”
“Stop acting like a scared little girl. We both know how this world works. Your father wounded his pride. I warned you, all those years ago.”
He didn’t flinch or move when she pressed the barrel harder. “Are you going to tell me you have nothing to do with what happened? I saw you from the second floor. You waltzed in the front door with the others.”
Eve couldn’t forget the awful taste of betrayal, had refused to believe it until her uncle found her in her room and ordered her to hide and open the door for no one. In the end, a piece of wood couldn’t protect her. Three men broke the door down, dragged her out of bed and would have taken her virginity, if not for Vadim’s intervention.
“I took the job, because it was the only way to get close to you. Your family had doomed itself the moment your father broke his promises to ally with the Petrovich family. Charles made an enemy of them that day.”
“I don’t care,” she whispered. “They’re dead. All of them.”
“But you live.” Vadim closed one big hand over the barrel to keep it from shaking. “It was the only way to save you.”
She let out a hysterical laugh. “Save me? Are you that fucked-up in the head?”
Vadim smiled, showing teeth, reminding Eve she wasn’t tangling with a normal man but a monster reared from birth to take lives. She played a dangerous game, but something told her Vadim hadn’t lied to her once.
“You’d prefer I let those three fuckers rape you? That wouldn’t be the end you know. Gustav likes keeping souvenirs. If those three didn’t break you, Gustav and his men would.”
Vadim’s words shook her, because Eve knew them to be true. “You’re no knight in shining armor,” she whispered. “But I appreciate you saving me nonetheless.”
“Never pretended to be. Tell me, princess. Are you going to shoot me or not? Because once you put that gun down, you know what happens next.”
“What?” she dared asked, well aware if Vadim wanted to kill her, he would have done it a lot sooner.
“Let’s get one thing straight.”
Eve sucked in a breath when he tightened his hold on the barrel. She almost thought he could bend the metal, an impossible human feat she knew, but he’d thrown her easily over his broad shoulder like a sack of floor. Eve wasn’t exactly a light weight ether.
“I took you for myself, and I’m not about to let you go.”
****
The truth of his words sank in. Vadim watched the different emotions cross her face—horror, fear, but also a hint of excitement. Eve had never struck him as a good liar, could never contain her feelings like her sister or mother. He knew, because Vadim had watched her for years.
Vadim knew her daily routine, the people she met on a daily basis. He knew her, or thought he did anyway. It didn’t matter. He meant every word. He’d offer her a choice, because Vadim wouldn’t strip her choices away from her, but only for Eve to realize she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to.
Save him.
Eve wouldn’t want for anything else. She need only utter the names of her enemies and he’d strike them down, create an entire graveyard for her. First though, they needed to move past this little misunderstanding.
“You hate me so much? Pull the trigger. It’s that easy,” he said, angling the barrel higher, right over his left pectoral. Buried under flesh, blood and bone, lay a heart that beat solely for her.
“Tell me. Do you want to die so badly?” she retorted, blue eyes fiery, like hard gemstones.
Vadim would give for anything to see her face turn soft, vulnerable, those long eyelashes fluttering, her lips parted, swollen from his kiss. He eyed her. Eve hadn’t bothered with clothes. The survivor in her hadn’t screamed, wept, or curled into a corner. She’d taken his gun and had the balls to point it at him.
Doubt clouded her vision though. Her hands still shook. Vadim decided there and then he never wanted her to hold a weapon of murder. Once this ugly business had been dealt with, he’d make it his life’s mission to give her a new world devoid of guns, violence, and politics.
Since she looked so undecided, Vadim took that opportunity to devour her.
Even battered, she looked like a goddess, skin creamy as he remembered, and fuck him, those curves, the generous swell of her breasts and that tempting valley between her legs that hid moist folds—he yearned to put his mouth and hands everywhere. Find the secret places that made her moan, tickle, and laugh. Vadim didn’t just crave her body, but wanted possession of her heart and soul as well. That would come later, he knew. Trust needed to be built in layers, and yet he’d betrayed hers in one single swoop. There was no helping it.
Gustav Petrovich had her entire family in his sights, would want nothing more than to see all of the Valentins dead or suffering, reduced to broken shells.
“Answer me,” she demanded. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like how exactly?”
Eve bit her bottom lip.
So tempting to wrench the gun away. It would be too easy. He could have disarmed her right from the start, but he wanted her to believe she had the power over him. Right now, that deception had been necessary, but not for long. Eve didn’t understand. She probably assigned them roles, him her captor, she the victim, but five years ago, she’d already captivated him, cursed him. Vadim couldn't look at any other woman, didn’t want anyone else.
“Like you want to devour me inside and out.”
“And you’re scared of that?”
“I’m frightened that I’ll let you, that there’s truth to your words, but everyone has a choice.”
“Choices can be limiting. I might be a made man in my own right, but I trust few and have no family backing me. I can only save one person. That’s you.”
Vadim didn’t mention Eve had only been the one worth saving. None of her kin appreciated her, saw her for the treasure she was. He pried the gun from her fingers. She let him fling it aside, until it clattered on the wooden floor. Vadim had only one last use for it anyway.
She surprised him yet again, clenching her fists against his chest. Vadim wrapped his arms around her frame by instinct, and didn’t comment when she started slamming her hands against his chest. It tore him to pieces, seeing her crack, his proud, brave princess. Eve probably held everything in to get by, to pick up his weapon and point it at him.
That day, Vadim discovered Eve wept silently. Exhausted, she buried her face into his chest. He tangled fingers into her hair, holding her close, giving her what she needed. Vadim moved his hand to her lower waist.
He didn’t know how long they stood like that. It didn’t matter. Time became irrelevant, once he’d spirited her away from the city to his isolated cabin in the woods, far from civilization. No one would find them here. He made sure of that a long time ago.
Eve lifted her head, hatred burning bright in her eyes. That was all right, too. Rage, he could deal with. At least it hadn’t been defeat.
“I hate you with every fiber of my being.” She hissed, pushing him away.
He let her go, because she needed the distance. Even if she ran, Eve wouldn’t be able to go far.