“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.