Roksana lay on her side the next afternoon, listening to her husband. Her beautiful Russian blue pit bull was stretched out on the bed next to her, enjoying his first belly rub. She smiled as she scratched behind his ears. His gray fur was like velvet and he smelled yummy from the bath Pavel had given him in the garage.

“Voin is a good name,” Oleg was saying. “Russian for ‘warrior’, of course—rhymes with ‘Gwen’. God knows the poor guy has seen his share of battles. So, what did your father have to say?”

“You’re such a fucking brainiac with Russian language trivia. Thank you for agreeing to take him. He was meant to be mine, I think.” She laid her head on the pillow and gazed into the dog’s pale blue eyes. “Oh, you are a big, brave boy, aren’t you?” she cooed, scowling when she caught Oleg rolling his eyes. “What? As far as talking to Father, I’ll give you three guesses what he said.” She gave him no time to respond as she counted off the guesses on her fingers. “I’m reckless. I have no impulse control. Oh, and the clincher, I should get pregnant so I will understand how fragile life is.”

“The Pakhan is a wise man.” He stood by the bed, watching her moon over the dog. It had been quite a night and he was reeling from all that had happened and the fact that they had a dog now. A big, muscular, hulking pit bull. But she was right, he was a big, beautiful boy, and incredibly gentle. And devoted to his mistress, it seemed.

Although willing to fight to the death when trained to do so, the breed was known for being loyal and gentle outside the fight pit – if treated well, that is. For that reason, Oleg had allowed Voin a nice, long visit with Roksana. But he wanted her back now.

Oleg reached out, lazily tweaking a nipple through Roksana’s shirt, just hard enough to piss her off. She punched his arm, laughing until the dog turned his head toward Oleg and barely curled his lip, emitting a low sound that was more like a grunt than a growl, but his meaning was clear...

Hands off. Mine.

The dog’s demeanor wasn’t exactly hostile, but it was most definitely protective.

When Roksana saw Oleg’s narrowed eyes, she looked down at Voin and had to stifle a smile as the dog wriggled over closer to her. He huffed contentedly, keeping one eye trained on Oleg, as if daring him to touch her again.

Oleg glared at the dog, nostrils flaring with displeasure. “Oh. Hell. No. Woman, I will not be cockblocked by a dog.”

Roksana was too busy laughing and fending off sloppy dog kisses to notice as Oleg punched digits into his phone. In a matter of moments there was a knock on the door.

Oleg sported a suspiciously smug expression as he crossed the room to answer the door. He leaned out into the hall, speaking quietly to someone. Voin jumped up and scrambled off the bed, his whole back end wagging happily when he saw that Bazarnik had the other pit bull, now known by his new name, Maksim, with him. Maksim looked a little worse for wear. One front leg was bandaged and a cut had been stitched closed behind an ear. He was wearing one of those plastic cone collars to protect the stitches and didn’t like it one bit.

“Come on, fellas,” Bazarnik said quietly. “How ‘bout a snack?”

Roksana scowled at the door as Oleg closed it behind them. As quickly as Bazarnik had arrived, he was gone—with her damn dog! She jumped up from the bed, lunging toward Oleg. “What the fuck?” Her hand was raised midair when he grabbed it at lightening-speed, as she had known he would. As he pressed her against the wall, his menacing snarl and the determined look in his dead eyes said more than words ever could. He meant business and she loved it. And she was ready for him, so ready…

Buttons flew as he ripped her shirt open. Yanking her toward him, he pulled a bra cup down and bit her breast hard enough to send her body jerking and writhing beneath him. He raised his head, a wicked grin on his face. “That’s it, woman. Fight me. Fucking love it when you fight me.”

“You bastard! You can’t just send Voin away like that! He just got here!”

“Nobody cockblocks me. Nobody keeps me from what belongs to me. Especially not a dog.” His tongue flicked over the tooth marks he had left by her nipple, soothing the tender flesh. She hated how he could so easily break through her anger and make her want him. The rage, anger, love, hate, and passion they felt for each other made for a perfect chaotic concoction—as contradictory as they themselves were. No one else could possibly understand their twisted connection, but it was what made their lives worth living.

“Just a wild guess,” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck, “but I bet your father wants you to give me a son.”

“Or a daughter,” she growled with a hint of rebellion in her tone. “She’ll be as deadly as I am.” It was meant to be a threat but it only amused him and brought a sinister gleam to his eye.

“Ah, but will she be as crazy? That’s the question, my redheaded hellcat.”

“Crazier!” she hissed.

He looked down at her speculatively, no doubt understanding much more than she wanted him to. At times like this, his perceptiveness infuriated her. His lips trailed up and down her neck and she melted against him. Then he bit down on the sweet spot at the base of her neck, just hard enough to produce a burst of pain that had her tilting her head back with pleasure.

He picked her up with ease, carrying her into their immense walk-in closet. He sat her on the large table in the middle of the room. It had about a million drawers and Oleg had no idea what Roksana kept in them; he just knew he loved to fuck her on it. It was the perfect height, making it easy to spread her legs and take her however he wanted.

He slid her out of her tight jeans, never taking his eyes off her. He knew all too well how unpredictable his wife could be. She’d be just as likely to kick him in his nut sack as she would be to beg him to dig in and fuck her harder. He wasn’t taking any chances.

He slid his hand up her inner thigh, caressing her soft flesh as he spoke. “There’s nothing I’d love more than to see you with a baby bump, knowing I put it there.” He cupped her mound and pressed a long finger into her slick folds. His thumb stroked her clit as his finger slowly pumped in and out. “I love you, kotik. I’ve never loved another. It’s always been you, only you.”

She tilted her head back, her flaming hair trailing over the mahogany tabletop. “I love you too. I’m crazy with it. How could I not love you when you know me so well?”

He slid a glistening fingertip along her bottom lip. She drew the digit into her mouth in one smooth, sexy pull, licking off her cream before biting down once, then again, harder, just hard enough to antagonize him.

He tore out of his pants and jerked her hips to the edge of the table, claiming her in a single, fierce thrust that took him as far as he could go. If she wanted rough sex, he was more than willing to comply.

The pain searing her core was just what she needed. That pain was life, it was love. Indulging in a rough fuck in such a civilized setting was the perfect contradictory expression of their devotion. Surrounded by designer clothes and exorbitantly expensive jewelry and accessories, Roksana reached over her head and white-knuckled the opposite edge of the dressing table, arching her back and spreading her knees as Oleg bent over her, pounding into her wet heat. They needed this visceral, primal connection as much as they needed air to breathe.

No, this wasn’t a sweet lovemaking session, and they both knew it. He needed to mark her. She needed to be brutally fucked. Simple.