You are … for me?
Even now as I held out my hand for him to take to get him out of this fucked-up torture cell of a basement, I couldn’t shake those words from my mind. I couldn’t remove the image of his face, looking up at me with such hope, such relief that I was his.
You are … for me?
In that moment I was every hope he’d had. I could see it; see it in those sea green eyes. He moved me. Completely moved something inside of me with those simple, earnest words.
He hadn’t moved; he stared at my hand like it was a forbidden fruit he so badly wanted to savor. He was shattering my heart as, internally, he warred with himself. His conflicted eyes flitted from side to side; he wanted to believe me. He wanted to believe in me so badly, it shone like a desperate beacon in his green eyes.
I edged forward and pushed my hand closer to his. “Take my hand, Zaal. Let me show you the truth. Trust me, always trust me. I won’t ever lie to you. I promise.”
He glanced down at the heavy chains spooled at his side, then back up to my face. He was frowning. An accepting expression passed across his face, which made me believe he was going to trust me. His hand lifted, but stopped in midair. His jaw and fist clenched simultaneously. Then he made my heart swell; he took a leap of faith and wrapped his big hand in mine.
We stayed there¸ suspended in our relative sitting and standing positions hands joined. After rolling to his feet, Zaal’s huge frame towered over me. His hand still held mine, and by the tight grip, I knew he wouldn’t let go. He was so fierce and untamed in his looks and demeanor. But his tight grip on my hand told me how fearful he was about the concept of his freedom … about putting his trust in me … when, in his tortured mind, I might lead him to nothing but more punishment and more pain.
He took a deep breath, and rasped, “I am weak. I feel weak.”
Sighing, I tipped my head to the side. “I know. But you’re getting stronger. Each day, you’re getting stronger again.”
Stroking my thumb over the back of his scarred hand, I watched his muscles tense. Our gazes met; something indescribable, palpable passed between us. I said, “Come with me.”
Zaal nodded, and I began leading him toward the staircase. When we reached the bottom step, he paused, then ground to a halt. I glanced back to his wary face; automatically I squeezed his hand.
He took a deep breath and once more he began to follow me, this time up the stairs. When we reached the top, I opened the door. Bright light immediately flooded the space. Zaal, as if blinded, stumbled backward, his back hitting the wall.
I whipped my head around to see him squinting, his free arm shielding the light from his face. He was panting like he’d just run a marathon, but his hand hadn’t released mine. No, quite the opposite. It had become iron tight, verging on the point of being painful.
“Zaal?” I asked, and rushed to where he was hiding in the shadows. “What’s wrong?” I continued.
I gently lowered the arm shielding his face. His eyes were blinking rapidly. He pointed to the ray of light illuminating the floor. “Light,” he rasped.
I frowned in confusion. “Light?” I questioned.
He nodded his head and swallowed hard. As I stared at his face a stark and devastating realization hit me. “You’re never out when it’s daylight?”
Zaal stared at the ray of light, dust particles dancing in its beam, and said, “I am always in darkness. Chained in the darkness. I kill only in darkness.”
I knew he’d been kept like an animal. But no name, head always bowed, punished until he lost his voice, and brought up in darkness since a child? Daylight-deprived? It cut me more deeply than any knife could possibly do. To have been kept out of the sun …
My thumb ran over his hand again. His jade green eyes met mine. “There’s no need to fear the light. Let me show you.”
I could have sworn Zaal’s heart beat so loud that I could hear it in our cocoon of silence. For a moment I didn’t think he was going to leave the comfortable familiarity of the basement. Thank goodness, he found the courage to step forward, his feet moving as though testing new waters.
I walked through the door into the hallway. Zaal’s impressive frame filled up every inch of the doorway. He looked down at the threshold between the basement and the hallway. I noticed a sheen of sweat glistening over his body.
He caught me watching and announced, “I have never walked out of my cell alone, free from my chains.”
Chasing away my building tears, I tightened my hold on his hand and assured, “You’re not alone.” His eyes widened. I stepped closer, somehow instinctively knowing he needed me beside him.
Zaal took long deep breaths and brought our joined hands over his heart. “Talia,” he said on a relieved sigh in his strong Georgian accent, the sound bringing a wash of peace over me.
I waited until he took that first step. And with his hand iron tight in mine, he stepped over the threshold. Eyes searching, Zaal drank in the expanse of the hallway. His head flinched at the bright light and his eyes stayed narrowed. His bare chest rose and fell with what I presumed was adrenaline surging through his body.
I pulled Zaal further into the body of the house. Just as he seemed to let himself relax, the sound of the front door opening echoed off the wooden walls. Savin and Ilya walked through.
Zaal tensed.
My head whipped to my byki.
Savin and Ilya drew their Glocks.
“Guards,” Zaal snarled, pushing me back against the wall. His huge body blocked mine from Savin and Ilya. His body crouched in preparation for a strike.
“What the fuck?” Ilya cursed.
When Zaal heard Ilya speak, he tensed. All I could see was his back. Every muscle was braced for the fight. This was the Zaal that Luka had brought to the house weeks ago. This was the violent monster Jakhua had created. The stone-cold killer. The product of over-experimentation.
“Guards,” he snarled again.
“Zaal!” I called out. My voice seemed to have no impact on his rapidly rising anger.
“Talia. Are you hurt?” Savin asked.
“No! Don’t hurt him!” I called from behind Zaal. “He thinks you’re Jakhua’s guards!”
I carefully moved to the side of Zaal and placed my hand on his back. He tensed and his crazed, still-blinking eyes darted to me. His face was flushed, and it was clear to me that the brightness of daylight was adding to his agitation.
He gripped my wrist and pulled me to his chest. His strong arm wrapped around my waist and he shouted, “Mine!” to Savin and Ilya. I saw Savin’s face tighten in alarm. But hearing the protective, possessive word slip from Zaal’s lips had my thighs clenching and my heart soaring.
I wasn’t afraid.
“Miss,” Ilya warned, motioning for me to step away.
I held out my hand to my byki, and ordered, “Leave.” They stared at me like I’d gone insane. “Leave!” I shouted. Zaal’s grasp on me became too tight. He was losing it. I could feel it in his shaking limbs and erratic breathing.
“What?” Ilya exclaimed. “We can’t do that, miss. He could kill you!”
“You can. He’s safe, but he thinks you’re guards. The guards Jakhua employs. I’ve let him out because he’s safe.” Ilya glanced back at Savin. “Please, leave…” I begged.
“Fuck!” Ilya snapped. Lowering his gun, he turned to face Savin. “Outside,” Ilya ordered, before looking back at me. “You have five minutes to explain who we are before we come back in. And if he comes at us again, I’ll blow his fucking head clean off.”
When the door slammed shut, Zaal let out a frustrated growl and dragged me across the floor. He slammed me against the wall. His face was contorted in rage, his jade eyes lit with fire. “Guards,” he hissed. “Master’s guards. You lied.…”
“No,” I whispered. His eyebrows twitched. “My guards,” I explained, then pushed, “They’re my guards.”
Zaal stilled. A frown pulled on his red face. “Your guards?”
I nodded. Timidly lifting my hand, I pressed it against his cheek. As soon as my palm met his face, tension left his shoulders. I’d observed that when I did this, it soothed him. “You were freed from your Master weeks ago. You were brought here to safety.”
He blinked and searched my gaze. “To you.” My stomach flipped at the want in his eyes. He thought I was his safety. That he was brought here to me.
“No, Zaal. For you. You’re free. Nobody owns you now.”
Lips parted, Zaal inhaled a shaky breath. “No Master?” he asked in bewilderment. I shook my head for emphasis.
His head lifted to look around the hallway. I could see the confusion racking his brain. “I’m free?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I whispered, my fingers stroking over his cheek. He let out a deep exhale and straightened. I watched with bated breath as he placed his hand on his arm, on the tens of scars, and then slid his fingers to the shackle wounds on his wrists and ankles.
I watched as those fingers traced the permanent red circular marks, and I watched as he lifted his head. Zaal met my eyes with unshed tears in his. “I am free.”
The sight of those tears dropping over his dark stubbled cheeks was my undoing. “Zaal,” I croaked through a thick throat.
I wanted to tell him who he was. Where he’d come from. I wanted him to tell me what had been done to him for years, for decades. I wanted to tell him what Jakhua did to his family. But he was, in many ways, just a child.
He couldn’t understand. He was like a caveman, seeing the world for the first time.
I took his hand and, meeting his eyes, said, “Come with me.”
Zaal tightened his hand on mine. I led him from the hallway into the large living room. He stopped at the doorway. Zaal drank in the large area filled with plush furnishings, the large feature windows overlooking our beach.
He swallowed hard.
I began pulling him toward the kitchen. Zaal stopped dead as he looked at the appliances, the countertops. I watched him and tried to imagine what this was like—seeing everything for the first time.
I couldn’t. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
“This is where the food is prepared,” I said. I moved to the fridge. “Are you hungry?”
Zaal pressed his hand against his stomach. “I am always hungry,” he replied. “Master feeds me very little. I have to earn my food.”
I stared at him in silence. “How?” I whispered, unsure whether I really wanted to know the answer.
“Killing,” he said, as if it was an ordinary everyday activity.
I swallowed and stepped forward. “Do you kill a lot?”
Emphatically, he nodded his head. “It is all that I do.”
Blowing out through my mouth, I pointed to the fridge. But Zaal’s attention kept drifting to the windows overlooking the beach. I leaned back against the fridge and watched his eyes try to interpret the scene.
Quietly, I moved beside him, and placed my hand on his arm. He tensed and whipped his angered face toward me. I stilled, and he seemed to remind himself I was no threat, his expression softening. “Would you like to go outside?” I asked nonchalantly.
He blinked, then blinked again. But he shook his head. His gaze drifted to the window. Taking his hand, I led him to the window. Releasing my hand, he edged forward and pressed his hands to the glass.
A warm feeling stirred in my stomach as he stared out of the large pane of glass. His eyes were flitting over everything in sight. Perhaps he was committing it to memory?
Did he think he would be captured again soon? That he would never see this sight again?
Zaal looked out for minutes, in a happy silence. I wanted to give him more. “Zaal. Come with me,” I prompted, and led him up to a bedroom. Luka and Kisa had been staying in this room. Luka still had some hooded sweatshirts hanging in the closet. Zaal stood in the center of the room. His eyes taking in the furniture; the bed, dresser, everything.
Choosing the biggest hooded sweatshirt I could find, I walked to Zaal and unzipped the front zipper. “Put this on,” I instructed.
Zaal looked at the sweatshirt and then at me.
I couldn’t help but smile at the lost look on his face, over something as simple as a sweatshirt. A wisp of a laugh slipped from my mouth. Suddenly, I found rough fingers stroking my lips.
Zaal was staring at my lips in fascination. “What is this called in your language?” he asked.
I wrapped my hand over his fingers, and replied, “A smile.”
“A … smi … le…” He sounded out the word as he moved closer to my lips. The task of breathing became difficult as he stood a mere hairsbreadth away. His head leaned in closer, and for a moment, I thought he would kiss me. Instead he drew back and pressed his fingers to his own lips.
Finding my stolen voice, I asked, “Do you smile, Zaal?”
He paused, then shook his head. His expression changed from confused to enquiring. He asked, “Why do you smile?”
My heart beat at double speed. “When something makes you happy. When you feel happy.”
“Happy…,” he whispered. Then he took the hooded sweatshirt from my hands. “You were happy giving me this?” He looked down at the sweatshirt, clearly with interest.
Not wanting Zaal to think that I was laughing at his naivety, I took the sweatshirt, held it out for him to slip on, threaded it over his arms and, moving to his front, zipped it up. He still awaited my answer, so I replied, “I am happy that you’re finally free.”
Zaal paused, then lifted his hand. He ran it through my hair. “Your hair is soft,” he observed.
Perplexed by the sudden change in conversation, I responded by running my hair over the ends of his long jet black hair, and said, “Now so is yours.”
He followed my fingers through his almost-dry hair. His eyes met mine, and he asked, “You took care of me?”
I swallowed as my throat felt too full with such attraction for this man. “Yes,” I whispered, “I took care of you.”
His head dipped again and his finger ran down my cheek. His finger continued south, over my breasts, my nipples aching under his touch. Then his finger tapped over my heart, before moving to tap over his. “Because … you are … for me.”
Time stopped as he said those words again. Though on this occasion, they weren’t a question. To him, I could tell it was fact. In his eyes, I was his, I was for him.
“Let’s go to the beach,” I announced, unable to earth the electricity crackling between us. His eyes widened, but before I gave him a chance to resist, I guided him out of the room and down the stairs.
As we turned the corner into the living room, Savin and Ilya were standing in the center. Zaal tensed. I turned around and, standing on my tiptoes, pressed my hand to his cheek. “They are here to protect you, not cage you.”
Zaal’s eyes narrowed as they focused on my byki, but he wanted to trust me. I could see that Zaal was placing his trust in me.
Zaal, this time, took my hand. My heart bloomed as I cast him a smile. I heard his breathing hitch, so I smiled even wider.
I tried to lead us past Savin and Ilya, but Savin stepped forward. “Miss, a word, please?”
I stared at Savin, his dark gaze was stern. “What, Savin?”
His eyes flicked to Zaal then to me. “In private, please.”
“It can wait, Sav,” I replied, then he said, “does the knayz know you’re doing this?”
I stiffened. Anger and a hint of guilt built in my stomach. “He’s in Brooklyn, summoned by the Pakhan. He doesn’t need the hassle. He has enough to deal with.”
Savin nodded, his mouth tight. He knew that I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I continued without hesitation. “He wants this situation made right.” I glanced back to Zaal, who had moved closer to my back, a protective gesture. “I’m helping to make it right,” I concluded.
Zaal followed me to the back door, and his breath blew faster. I didn’t look back. I just opened the door, the winter wind off the ocean lashing at my face.
Zaal’s hand tightened in mine, but I stepped through taking him with me. The wind whistled loudly, but at least the sun shone bright. I stopped and Zaal stepped beside me. His eyes squinted at the sun. The look on his face as he scanned our private beach was like seeing someone coming home after the longest time. To me, it was the look of freedom.
“Do you want to walk farther?” I asked. Zaal looked at me, nerves played across his dark features, but he nodded.
I glanced down at his bare feet. I worried that he’d be cold, but he didn’t seem to feel the winter chill. I didn’t think anything, not even a damn hurricane, would register with him at this moment.
“I’ll show you the ocean,” I offered. We walked past the swimming pool and onto our private wooden walkway. The air was filled with the sound of waves crashing onto the sand. Zaal kept pace behind me. His breathing was erratic, and his muscles were tense. He flinched at the bright light, but I had a feeling nothing was going to stop him from reaching the beach.
When we reached the end of the dock, I turned to Zaal and dropped my hand. A panicked look swept over his face. I ignored it and kept going.
I shouted, “Have you ever seen sand before?”
I pointed at the smooth beige sand. As I expected, Zaal shook his head. I smiled. It got his attention. “One of the best feelings in the world is to walk on sand.”
Zaal stared down at the sand, studying it closely. I rubbed my hand down his arm. “Go,” I said, “feel the sand. Meet the ocean.”
Zaal was understandably apprehensive. His face paled slightly, but as I nudged my chin encouragingly in the direction of the beach, he stepped out.
As soon as his large feet sank into the sand, a gasp escaped his mouth. His toes wiggled, and he bent down to scoop the sand up in his hands. He remained crouched, hands buried under the soft sand for a good while.
A tidal wave of emotion washed over me, stealing my every breath. My hand clutched my chest and my eyes stung.
I, Talia Tolstaia, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of a Bratva boss of New York, was getting emotional for a Kostava. A Kostava who had no idea who the hell he was.
Legs feeling weak, I dropped down to sit on the edge of the wooden dock, wrapping my arms around my waist.
Zaal had his head bowed, a statue on the sand. I tasted salt on my lips, from the spray of the sea.
Zaal lifted his head. His eyes were closed. The sun kissed his face. I too felt the sun on my skin as though I was attracting its rays. I felt as though I was feeling it for the first time with him—the warmth. I was feeling the wind wrap around my hair. I was right here in the moment.
I sighed and Zaal opened his eyes. Those pearls of green fell upon me. Zaal stood slowly, and bowed his head at me. I smiled through trembling lips and though no smile pulled on his lips, it was shining from his eyes.
Zaal turned. His huge body, sculpted from vast muscles, his long black hair wild and free, slowly made his way to the endless rush of the waves.
I wrapped my arms around bent legs and rested my cheek on my knee. Zaal was walking to the tide. When he met the sea foam, I watched it pass over his feet. From here, I couldn’t hear him or see his face, but I could see his shoulders relax. Then he knelt down and pushed his hand into the salty ocean. It would be freezing at this time of year, but he didn’t even flinch.
Like he did with the sand, he stayed awhile touching the water, as if in prayer. Over fifteen minutes passed by. The entire time I simply watched him in silence.
Suddenly, Zaal stood and deeply exhaled. When he turned to face me, his green eyes were bright; my heart ceased to function.
He was smiling. It was small, it was faint, but it was there.
And in that moment I knew—I was losing my heart to the object of my family’s deepest hatred.
Zaal walked toward me. My thighs tensed. Everything about him was raw; his wild long hair, his dark stubble, his deep olive skin. He was everything I could have wished for.
“Did you like the beach, Zaal?” I asked, and raised my head.
Zaal closed his eyes. His lip hooked up in a small smile. I gasped at the sight. When he opened his eyes, he dusted his fingertips over his mouth. “I feel … happy.”
I placed my hand over my chest and closed my eyes, too overcome by what he’d been through, when fingers ran through my hair.
I opened my eyes. Zaal was looking at me in concern. “Why do you look sad?” he asked in his clipped English. A part of me then questioned how he knew English. That thought vanished as soon as he moved closer still to me.
I shook my head. “I feel sadness at how you’ve been treated.”
His black eyebrows pulled down. I knew he still couldn’t understand the gravity and the magnitude of what he’d been through. I knew he didn’t remember what was done to his family. He was the embodiment of living in the moment, living for now. Of course, I adored that Zaal was embracing and savoring life for the very first time.
“Ignore me,” I said as I waved my hand.
“You are tired?” he asked.
I nodded my head. “Yeah, I’ve barely slept these past couple of weeks.”
Stepping back onto the dock, Zaal reached down and lifted me up in his strong arms. I couldn’t help but laugh as he did so. He placed me down in front of him and put his hand in mine. “We rest,” he said with finality.
I let him lead me back to the house, then I led him up the stairs. I walked him to a spare room. As we entered, I hung back at the door. “You can sleep here.” I pointed to the bed. “You have a bed, Zaal. No more sleeping on the floor.”
I turned to leave the door, when Zaal suddenly reached for my hand. I turned my head to face him. Raw fear was on his face. He pulled me to his chest. “Where do you go?” he asked, his accent thicker as panic laced his voice.
“My room,” I whispered. My pulse picked up speed at the desperate look of need in his eyes.
His hand dropped and his fingers laced through mine. “I come with you.”
I knew this had to be it. This was the moment I stopped myself from falling off the cliff. This was the moment I called Luka and told him that Zaal had got rid of whatever fucked up serum was in his body. That it was time to come and get him.
Or, I’d jump off the cliff, arms wide and free-falling. I’d follow what was leading my heart. Zaal, the Kostava who had seized control of my soul.
Stepping closer to Zaal, I ran my hand down his chest, my eyes following my fingers, and I chose to fall. “You go where I go.”
Without looking at his face, I turned and walked to my room. As I entered through the door, I released his hand and walked to the window. I drew the blinds. The sun was fading now, the bright winter’s day drawing to its end. I paused as my hand hung on the blind’s chain. I was exhausted. I felt exhausted, conflicted, confused, yet at the same time, every cell in my body was zinging to life. Lustful adrenaline surged in my blood, igniting every sense. The cause: Zaal.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned. Zaal was watching me. I knew that look. He wore that look when I’d bathed him, when I’d stroked his cock. Wore it as I’d washed his hair, then straddled his lap.
Reaching my bed, I pulled a nightgown from my dresser. My eyes flitted back and forth to Zaal, who remained standing, waiting patiently at the door. My body was so aware of his overwhelming presence, that my large bedroom suddenly felt full, stifling. But right.
Throwing my nightgown on the bed, I walked to Zaal and took his hand. I led him further into the room. He followed and I pointed to my right. “The bathroom’s in there. You’ll probably want to have a shower.” My face flushed red as I remembered riding him in the basement. My breasts ached and my nipples hardened at the memory. I wasn’t sane around this man.
Zaal’s eyes bored into mine. His lips rubbed together as he watched me. Suddenly his finger was brushing across the apples of my cheeks. “You are red.” His eyes narrowed, studiously taking in every detail. “Why?”
I shook my head, trying to dismiss his question, but he edged in closer. I almost moaned aloud when his hard torso caressed mine. My gaze fell to his olive skin, then the dark edges of his identity tattoo. I felt my panties grow damp. “Tell me,” he said roughly. His thigh brushed against mine and I could feel his hardness. I closed my eyes and fought with all I had to rein in my desire. “Talia…?” he pushed.
Shyly, and looking for something to do with my fidgeting fingers, I ran my fingertip over the zipper of his sweatshirt. “You may need to clean up before you sleep.”
I saw his head nod in my peripheral vision. Reluctantly dropping my hand from his chest, I walked to the bathroom. I’d assumed Zaal had followed, but when I turned to show him the shower, I was alone.
I moved back to the bedroom to see where he was, and I ground to a halt. My lips parted and a shaking breath slipped from their depths.
Zaal.
Zaal stood beside my bed, free from clothes, his black hair hanging low and free over his chest. Every inch of his body was ripped and raw with tight muscle … and his hard cock … his large wide cock was erect, flat against his lower torso. His clothes were lying in a heap beside the bed. Zaal’s head was downcast, waiting, just waiting for me.
I swallowed at the sight of him. I fought for breath at his savageness; his brutal, primitive presence, and I lost my sensibilities.
Driven by instinct, I stepped forward, Zaal’s eyes immediately snapping up to meet with mine. His nostrils flared, his taut traps flexed, and his hands clenched at his sides. It was predatorily, and I felt like I was his prey. Though I wasn’t afraid. No, the opposite; turned on, compelled, drawn in, but never afraid.
Zaal’s cheek twitched as I approached, and I stopped just inches away. I fluttered my eyes from the view of his chest to his eyes; his eyes were already fixed on mine.
“Zaal…,” I whispered, hearing the longing clear in my tone. “Do you not want to cleanse?”
His pectoral muscles, marred with deep scars and ink, pounded heavily as his breathing grew labored. “You,” he rasped. My stomach and thighs clenched. Reaching down, he picked up my hand and laid it flat on his torso. I gasped when he began to steer my palm over his abdominal muscles, his jade eyes blazing with need. “You cleanse me,” he said, his clipped English and heavy Georgian accent growing thicker. “You touch me.”
He pushed my hand ever lower. My breath hitched as my palm ran over the head of his cock. “Zaal,” I moaned as my free hand lifted to rest on his bulging bicep. I was overcome by him, by this inexplicable pull between us.
Zaal’s hand over mine, we placed our joined fingers over his hard length. His jaw clenched and a growl rumbled in his throat. His eyelids grew leaden. I watched in fascination as his long black lashes swept against his high cheeks, his tongue licking along his full bottom lip.
My index finger, free from his hold, ran along the tip, pre-come kissing my skin. Zaal stilled, a deep groan surged from his lips, and before I’d known it, his strong hands had fisted the material of my thin sweater and ripped it in two.
Instantly, my breasts were bared.
Zaal panted as if he couldn’t draw his next breath without touching me. And my tether was strained. I thought of the necklace around my neck, its significance, the memory, the giver of the gift. But I became lost in that trusting sea of jade. The pull of Zaal’s draw, and the truth that I’d never felt this viscerally connected to another person in all my life, well, I tried to push it away … but could not.
Zaal was without restraint, tormented by the primal need to take. To take me. To own me. I could see it in every tense muscle, every protruding vein. He wanted to fuck me.
And, Lord forgive me, I wanted that, too. Damn the consequences, I wanted the man I’d sworn to always hate. I was fired with need.
Leaning to his side, I lifted Zaal’s red scarred wrists, once manacled by shackles and chains. I brought them to my breasts, my hands covering his as I silently urged him to touch.
Long calloused fingers grasped at my flesh. Hot shivers traveled like flares to the apex of my thighs. His touch alone sent me close to the edge. If this flicker of pleasure was a taste of what was to come, I wasn’t sure there would ever be any going back.
For a moment I had to question whether this betrayal with Zaal—against my family—was worth it. I cast my gaze across his identity tattoo, the scars from Lord knows what, and then his face, open, trusting, and handsome. Those beautiful innocent eyes. I sighed deeply, a sense of accepting peace flowing through me. It was worth it. Pure instinct told me he was worth it.
I chose to follow my heart.
Zaal’s face flushed as his hands explored. Meeting his gaze, I couldn’t look away from his hungry face as I snapped the button of my jeans. But Zaal looked down to watch, his hands palming my flesh more and more, his fingers grazing over my erect nipples.
I rolled my jeans down my legs and kicked them to the side of the room. Nerves overwhelmed me, engulfing my skin with hot shivers.
Tension built to a heady storm as our body heat clashed. Zaal’s rough hand still stroked my skin, his fingers tracing south.
I stood only in my black lace thong, a flimsy barrier from being completely bare, completely vulnerable.
My heart drummed.
My thighs clenched.
My pussy pulsed.
And then he moved. He moved until he was flush to my front. Flesh to flesh, sharing space. “Talia…,” he whispered, his warm breath skirting down the side of my neck.
“Zaal…,” I whispered in reply, my eyes closing at his nearness.
Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head. Zaal hissed through his teeth as he glanced down. He towered over me, dwarfed me with his sheer size.
Zaal’s hands smoothed up over my waist, teasing me inch by inch. A low rumble sounded in Zaal’s throat, making my pussy flood with wetness. Then his hands skirted over my breasts, up the sides of my neck, and landed on my cheeks.
We stood there, suspended in the moment; his hands cupping my cheeks, breathing in each other’s air. The pulse in my neck raced, then my eyelashes fluttered in anticipation of what was to come.
Our desperate gazes met.
He took a deep breath.
Then he whispered, “You are … for me?”
And I knew I was done.
Trampled, heart-flattened, done.
You are … for me? Four simple words that smashed through any barrier between us.
“Zaal,” I moaned and, with my hands threading over his broad round shoulders, I lifted to my tiptoes. Zaal’s eyes widened in surprise as I drew in my mouth toward his. His hands, on each side of my face, tightened. His breath slipped through his lips with a nervous exhale.
Eyes remaining open, I brushed my lips over his. Zaal stilled. He panted into my mouth, which hovered in anticipation next to his. Zaal’s warm sweet breath caused my pussy to ache with need.
I expected Zaal to crush his lips to mine. That a man of his size, with such a primal persona, to overpower me, to control me, to dominate me. But he stayed still, body tensed. I pulled back slightly, only to see his eyebrows drawn. His pupils were dilated, the whites of his eyes shining brightly. His nostrils flared. The three moles to the left of his cheek had me entranced as they twitched with nerves.
Then it hit me—Zaal didn’t know why my lips were touching his.
I sighed. The heat of realization melted in my chest. He’d never been kissed.
Zaal’s hands were cupping my cheeks like his grip was the only thing keeping him grounded. Keeping him from falling.
Smoothing my hands up the sides of his thick neck, I threaded them through his now-soft ebony hair and lay them on his cheeks. Zaal’s eyelids lowered, his anxious eyes fluttering to relax at my touch.
“Zaal?” I whispered. His eyes bolted open, that jade green stare catching mine. “Have you ever been kissed?”
Frown lines laced his forehead. His cheek twitched. “I … I don’t understand. You speak … differently from what I know.”
English, I thought. He struggled with understanding English.
Zaal’s face searched mine. He was Georgian. I didn’t speak Georgian, but most Georgian Mafia knew Russian. I prayed he did, too.
“Potzeluy,” I offered. Zaal froze, his gaze drifting above my head. His expression was one of deep concentration, as though he was trying to remember how he knew the word. “Do you know the word?” I pushed.
His head dropped and he nodded. “I think … I think…” His head lifted and he pulled me to his lips with his hands still on my face. My heart fired off beats like a cannon in battle. His lips moved until they hovered next to mine. “They, our lips meet. They meld.” A crease between his eyebrows formed. He asked, “How? How do I know this?”
I swallowed as his panicked eyes searched mine for an answer. Before I could reply, his face paled. His hands shook against my cheeks. Zaal’s eyes squeezed shut. His lips parted. “I think … I think someone used to kiss me … before I belonged to Master?” Sweat beaded on Zaal’s forehead. My stomach fractured at the lost look on his face. “Tal … Talia … who would have done that?”
I didn’t know what to do. Did I tell him the truth or did I soothe him? I chose the latter. He was shaking, flustered. I wanted to make him feel safe.
“Shh…” I hushed, then moved my mouth to caress his lips and pleaded, “Potzeluy menya.”
Kiss me.
Zaal tensed. He whispered, “I will try.”
In seconds my lips melded to Zaal’s. A long moan resonated in my mouth. I used the grip on his cheeks to pull him closer.
A deep hum sounded in Zaal’s chest. Wasting no time, I pushed my tongue into his mouth, his taste bursting onto my tongue. For a moment, Zaal’s palms slipped from my cheeks, the deepness of the kiss catching him off guard.
I kept going. I took from this primitive man what I wanted, what I needed. At first, the kiss was clumsy, as his innocent tongue tentatively met mine. I became breathless the more our tongues dueled. Zaal became more confident. His grip tightened and he pulled me to his hard chest, the impact knocking precious air from my lungs.
I pulled back, gasping for oxygen. But Zaal stayed close, his pupils wide, dark, and love drunk. I panted, still at the edge of his swelling mouth. His lips were red and flushed. I flicked my tongue out and ran it along the seam of his bottom lip. Was it possible? Zaal’s hard cock seemed to swell even more; its length pressing hard against my stomach. I cried a breathy moan and captured his bottom lip between my teeth, before releasing it and staring into his eyes.
Zaal froze. Completely froze; causing my body to follow suit.
His green eyes blazed and his hands dropped. With a sudden, almost deafening snarl, his large hands yanked at my panties, ripping the black lace thong in two.
The chill in the air beaded my nipples and washed over my clit. Zaal stepped back. His stormy gaze dropped to between my legs. His hand gripped his cock.
Beads of sweat dropped down onto his damp chest. And those eyes, they roved, they devoured my naked body. They shone bright, flaring with need. As I watched his scarred tattooed hand stroke his long cock, my thighs grew slick with wetness.
Zaal growled low as my hand lifted, then skirted down my stomach. My heart raced as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Then I reached the top of my pussy. Zaal’s hard breathing seized as my fingers crept lower, down to run along my folds.
And he broke.
Whatever control Zaal had, snapped. He plowed forward.
With a shocked gasp, Zaal took me in his powerful arms and crushed his mouth to mine. The grunts and groans pouring from his mouth caused me to claw and rip at his back. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Zaal’s cock met my pussy, its length dragging along my folds, scraping against my already-swollen clit.
Tipping my head back, I cried out. Hands losing purchase on his burning skin, I raked his hair. My fingers wrapped around the long strands and I ground against his length.
Zaal’s mouth broke away from mine, a loud roar sounding in my ears. Suddenly, Zaal’s knees dropped to the floor, his firm grip not releasing me as he took me down also.
The head of his cock probed at my entrance and I cried out against his neck. Zaal groaned. Hands holding my waist, he flipped me onto all fours, his huge body closing in behind me.
I called out in shock, but lost all rational thought when his head lowered and his wet tongue swiped my pussy, licking over my folds, to finally land on my clit. He was relentless in stroking, probing, and sucking.
I could barely see, my skin shivering as he assaulted my clit, sucking and swirling his tongue. My juices flooded into his mouth. When his tongue stiffened and plunged into my hole, a white light blistered behind my eyes as I broke apart. I came so hard my arms gave way and my forehead touched the carpet.
I came, wave after wave cresting and stealing my breath. But Zaal never stopped, savoring every ounce of pleasure I could give. He lapped at my wetness, his strong hands spreading my pussy to reach every last drop.
I fought for breath, trembling on the ground, when I suddenly felt Zaal behind me. I felt his wide hard cock brace at my entrance, his rough fingers grasping my hips.
Desperately needing to see him, I turned my head. My heart missed a beat at the sight. Zaal, every muscle in his huge body protruding and strained, stared at my pussy. His face was primitive, tense with need, flushed with need. His teeth were gritted and a look of intense desire took hold in his eyes.
Then, as if sensing my stare, he glanced up, and that look he was wearing so strongly ebbed away, only to leave adoration in his beautiful expression.
“Zaal…,” I whispered as his hands flexed on my skin. His jaw clenched, and releasing one hand, he guided his cock to my entrance. I thanked the lord I was on the birth control shot. I wanted Zaal raw. I wanted him flesh to my flesh.
I never moved my gaze from his. He never moved his from mine. But as the head of his length pushed into my hole, my wet warmth engulfing him, his traps and neck corded as he slammed himself inside me.
I screamed out as he roared, the joined sounds of our sex echoing off the bedroom’s walls. And then he began thrusting. Hard, rough, and fierce. Zaal’s untamed hair hung over his face, masking the wild expression on his features. He looked every inch the unpolished savage I’d believed him to be.
Zaal’s cock pounded into me. The sound of his slapping hips against my ass made my clit throb more and more. His cock stroked against the spot that was always out of my reach, pleasured shivers shooting up my spine.
I was so close to exploding, but as I looked into Zaal’s face, his eyes now closed, lost in our moment of pleasure, I knew I didn’t want to be on my knees. I didn’t want him braced behind. I wanted to see those jade eyes. The very eyes that had triggered my obsession with a Kostava. I wanted to feel his powerful body thrust on top of me. I wanted him nursed between my open thighs.
Fighting the building pleasure taking hold, I murmured, “Zaal…” But he was lost in a haze of pleasure. Lost as he fucked me, owned me, possessed me.
Zaal ripped a roar from his mouth as my core squeezed hard, choking his length. Lifting on my weakened hands, I forced myself forward, Zaal falling out from within me.
His eyes snapped open as I rolled onto my back. His face screamed predatory danger; pupils dilated and teeth gritted in frustration. He reached down to my waist to flip me back on all fours. I held up my hand.
Panting, searching for air, I shook my head vigorously, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Stop … Zaal … please…,” I breathlessly begged. He stilled.
“I need … I need … you…,” he fought to say, his English pronunciation nearly unintelligible as he fought to remain calm.
I stared at his rolling muscles, sweat dripping on his olive skin and that huge cock, rigid against his stomach.
“Take me like this,” I said through broken breaths. Zaal’s cheek twitched. His forehead creased in confusion.
I slowly lay down on my back, spread my legs, and held out my arms. Zaal’s gaze ran over my begging body, lingering on my wet, open center. My breasts ached at the thought of him back inside me. I needed to feel him fill me. I needed him to own me.
Then a wash of insecurity filled Zaal’s face. A thought suddenly struck me: he’d never taken anyone like this before. The Jakhuas truly did treat him like an animal, only letting him fuck from behind.
“I don’t understand?” Zaal’s guttural and desperate voice confided.
My heart dropped at the apprehension spreading across his face, as he clenched his fists by his side.
“Come here,” I prompted, coaxing him to come closer with my fingers. Zaal, breathing too fast, bent on all fours and, with the power only a predator could possess, crawled slowly over my awaiting body.
He stared down at me, the ends of his long hair tickling my breasts. He stared into my eyes, waiting for further instruction.
I pressed my hand against his face. His cheek nuzzled against my touch. “Take me like this,” I whispered. His eyes widened. I smiled, and heard a hiss pass through his clenched teeth. “Take me as you look into my eyes, with your skin brushing against mine.” Zaal hung on my every word as I guided his oversize chest down over my breasts. I whispered into his ear, “Come in me, like this.”
A growl built in his throat as he lowered himself down. His thighs lay in between mine. Skirting my hand down between our bodies, I palmed his cock, slick with my wetness. Zaal groaned, his mouth dropping open at the feel. Placing his rigid cock at my entrance, I pushed the head inside and said, “Take me.”
Zaal’s eyes met mine as he thrust forward and filled me to the hilt. Zaal’s strong arms braced on either side of my head, but as he rocked back and forth, I noticed he wasn’t as rough, he was filling me, taking me, but he was feeling me, slowly and deliberately owning me.
Zaal’s eyes watched my mouth as I licked along my lips. His breathing hitched at the sight. Guiding my hands up his taut arms, Zaal lowered to thread his arms under my shoulders. I gasped as his hard chest pressed against mine.
This close, I could make out every line of his handsome face, the three moles to the left of his eye humanizing this man. Zaal stared at my lips and his thrusts paused.
We lay here breathing each other in, joined in the most primitive way. I smoothed back his long black hair from his face, and felt a fissure in my heart. This, right now, in this very moment, something soul-shattering passed between us. He’d come into my life like a storm. A storm I didn’t want, one I’d prepared all my life to hate, to fight. But it brought with it refreshing rain. It cleared the skies and brought out only warmth.
Zaal was saving me, liberating me from loneliness.
My throat was chock-full with emotion as I lay here, staring into his eyes. Then Zaal took a long breath, traced his nose along my cheek and whispered, “Potzeluy.”
Kiss.
Feeling my body fill with warmth, I cast Zaal a watery smile and guided his mouth to mine. His long hair cocooned us, protecting us in our own space. His full lips were like butterfly wings, whispering against my lips. This was in stark contrast to the animalistic rage and primal presence he exuded.
But when his tongue pushed through to my mouth, my tongue tentatively meeting his, Zaal’s hips moved, his length pushing harder into me.
We kissed. He thrust. My hands explored. My palms met hot skin: his shoulders, his waist, and his back. With every sensation of my touch, Zaal’s pace increased. His lower abdomen dragged over my clit. Crying out, such sensitivity almost too much to stand, my hands gripped on to his ass. Zaal roared into my mouth.
He devoured me with his mouth.
He dominated me with his strength.
But my heart, my heart was giving itself to him. With every thrust he made inside me, another piece of my heart broke and melded into his.
Zaal’s hips moved faster and faster, his movements jerky and erratic. Pressure built in my spine. I almost came undone as Zaal’s moist lips dragged across my cheek, peppering me with kisses and swipes of his tongue. He traveled to my neck and I cried out as his damp chest grazed against my hard nipples.
“Zaal,” I moaned, my voice hitching.
“Talia,” he grunted back. My fingers kneaded his ass, driving him even further into me.
I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take the desire surging through my veins, the want and need for this man lit me up from the inside. Zaal’s skin brushed against my clit; pounding, circling, teasing. I dug my nails in, bit down on Zaal’s shoulder, and burst apart, as the most intense orgasm of my life tore through my core.
I came, coating Zaal’s cock. The walls of my pussy clenching, I gripped Zaal’s dick until he began to snarl. The sounds pouring from his mouth were vicious and raw, but everything told me how he felt—that he was feeling the same magnetic draw as me.
Zaal’s unrelenting hips suddenly stilled. His head whipped back, neck corded. He thundered as he came, his cum bathing my pussy with warmth. It was enough to take me over again, but my attention was fixed on Zaal’s face … on the pure pleasure our joining had brought to him.
As the last of Zaal’s thrusts jerked into me, he dropped his forehead to my shoulder. I ran gentle fingers down his spine. My eyes were closed as he shrouded me with his warmth. Then it was just us.
Joined.
Replete.
Melded.
As we lay in each other’s arms, a tear slipped from the corner of my eye. The betrayal to my family was complete; realized and profound. But so were my feelings for Zaal.
Weeks of watching him pace back and forth in the basement, held captive in chains, gave birth to my obsession. Watching him leech whatever drug they’d pumped in his veins, as he lay—broken—on the floor, had given birth to my compassion. Watching him slumped against the wall, shackled, with lost and lonely eyes, gave birth to my affection. But lying here, taken and warm in his arms; well, that had opened my heart.
Zaal was in my whole heart.
The hammering of his strong pulse began to slow. His soft breaths on my neck evened out. My hands continued to trace the ridges of his spine. Then Zaal lifted his head.
My eyes met his, and my heart cracked.
Tears filled his eyes, a disbelieving expression possessed his face. “Zaal?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What’s wrong?”
Two tears fell over his cheeks and trickled down his olive skin, then down onto my chest, rolling over his identity ink. My heart constricted at this devastating sight, then completely shattered when he sucked in a stuttered breath and asked, “I … I am truly free?”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I held him tight due to the look of utter disbelief on his face.
“Yes,” I assured, and nuzzled into his neck. “You’re free, Zaal. That man can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe. You’re free. There’s no more pain.”
His arms around my back tightened as I spoke those words. His breathing was heavy and I could feel the water from his eyes dropping into my hair. “Shh…” I soothed, stroking my hands through his hair.
Zaal stayed like that for minutes, still buried inside me. Eventually he lifted his head. I swallowed at the way he stared at me like … like I was his everything. “Because … of you?” he asked.
I held my breath.
“What?” I whispered.
“Free … because of you?”
I pressed my hand to his face. “No. My brother freed you. I was already at the house when you were brought here.” I glanced down. Redness filled my cheeks. “I watched you in the basement. After weeks spent watching from afar, I … I finally had to see you in person.”
Zaal’s frown was prominent as he mulled over what I’d divulged. I stroked my finger along his cheek. “Do you remember anything about the night you were freed?”
Zaal’s face contorted as if he was in pain. His hold on me tightened. “I … I remember pain, rage. I remember the chains and wanting to kill. Then venom and pain leaving my body. Then weakness, confusion.” His top lip hooked into a flicker of a smile, and he added, “Then you.” He exhaled through his nose. “Your small hand on my skin.”
Zaal’s panicked eyes fixed on me. “Why did your brother free me?”
My body froze at his question. Zaal’s tense jade irises implored me to answer. But I didn’t know what to say. He was still weak, still recovering. I wasn’t sure he should hear about his twin brother, his family, the experiments he’d been forced to endure, from my mouth.
Distracting Zaal from his question, I bent his head and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Shh. Let’s get some rest. All will be explained in good time.”
Zaal’s tense body relaxed with a relieving exhale. I palmed his cheeks. “Shall we go to bed?”
Zaal’s face expressed confusion again. He looked around us. “We are already on the floor.” I frowned at his strange reply, then my stomach sank. We are already on the floor.…
God, I thought. My stomach turned over. He’d never slept in a bed. It was why he took me on the floor. He didn’t know any better.
“Zaal.” I spoke with authority to command his full attention. “You’re free now. And you’ll sleep in my bed, with me.”
His face showed no understanding, so I pushed slightly on his arms. “Stand, and I’ll show you,” I directed, but Zaal didn’t move. “Zaal?” I pushed harder, but he still didn’t move.
“You will stay with me?” he asked. I caught a tinge of panic in his voice.
My heart bloomed, and I rolled my head to kiss his arm. “I won’t leave your side,” I assured.
Zaal’s green eyes shone, but he pulled back, his length slipping from within me. I moaned at the sudden feeling of loss.
But suddenly I gasped. My head lifted to stare at Zaal. His fingers were running over my clit and further down. I jerked, still too sensitive, when two of Zaal’s fingers pushed within me. I was rooted to the floor. When, unexpectedly, he pulled out his fingers and promptly sat back on his heels.
I was so turned on I could barely think straight.
Gathering my wits, I shakily got to my feet. Zaal was still on the ground, his eyes watching me like a hawk. I moved toward him and held out my hand. He took it without hesitation. Rising slowly to his feet, Zaal’s six foot six height eclipsed the fading sunlight streaming through the blinds at my window.
Walking behind him, I ran my hand over my bed. “We sleep in here.” Zaal’s assessing stare narrowed when it met the comforter.
Releasing his hand, I walked around him. Then he lightly grabbed my wrist. “Where do you go?” His voice betrayed an edge of panic, so I stroked my finger along his forearm. I blushed as I stated, “I’m going to cleanse myself.”
He looked down my body, clearly wondering why. Then he fixed his gaze on my pussy and his cum coating my thighs. His face turned stormy. He pulled me back, wrapping me tightly in his embrace. “No,” he ordered aggressively. “You stay with me, like this.”
My pulse raced, blood coursing through my body. The way he dominated, he owned, he possessed inflamed my already tingling skin. A finger lifted my chin. I found myself falling into his deep green gaze. “Do not cleanse,” he said in his strong Georgian accent.
“I won’t cleanse,” I assured in reply. His hold on me relaxed.
Leaning over Zaal, I pulled back the comforter and climbed into bed. Zaal was standing beside the bed, looking down. I tapped the mattress and said, “Climb in, Zaal. Rest with me.”
It took a few seconds, but Zaal did climb into the bed next to me. Immediately he held me in his arms. I inhaled the musk of his warm skin and turned to look him in the eyes.
As we stared at each other, somehow I felt different. This man, and what we’d just experienced, had changed me. He was changing me. A small smile spread on my lips as I caught sight of those beautiful three moles on the side of his face.
Zaal drew in a breath. Inching closer, he whispered, “Potzeluy.” I closed my eyes.
Without hesitation, I pressed my mouth against his. It was soft, it was tender. I felt like my prayer had been answered.
As I pulled away, Zaal’s fingers stroked over my hair. Adopting a serious expression, he repeated quietly, “You are … for me?”
Ignoring everything but Zaal and I, our magnetic attraction, and what we’d just shared, I tipped my forehead to meet his, whispering, “Yes, Zaal … I think I am … for you.”