by Lauren Smith
“Pin me down,” she said. She wanted him to trap her beneath his exquisite body.
He cupped her chin. “Forgetting something?” he asked.
A blush crept across her skin.
“Please, sir, pin me down and take me.” She was getting bolder at voicing her desires, and it helped that he only ever responded positively to what she asked.
He rolled her onto her back as he came down on top of her. He captured her wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to the mattress above her head. She parted her thighs, letting him settle into the cradle of her body. He kissed her slowly, softly at first, his tongue teasing her until she was wriggling beneath him, desperate to be filled.
There was something wonderful about being at the mercy of a man she trusted, a man she loved, a man who only wanted to give her pleasure. This was how it was supposed to be.
Dimitri slid a hand between their bodies and guided himself into her. She was still a little sore from the previous night, but it was worth it to feel him enter her, connect himself to her in the most primal way. She’d never understood the idea of casual sex. This, the joining of two bodies, was the most intimate thing someone could ever do with another person.
When he was all the way in, he stayed still. She tried to lift her hips, urging him to move. He chuckled and nibbled and kissed her throat.
“So impatient, kiska.” His warm breath against her ear sent waves of sharp arousal down her body and made her clit throb.
“Dimitri!” she yelped as he nipped her a little harder. “Sir,” she corrected on a gasp.
“Yes?” He continued to press his lips in sensitive places on her neck.
God, she wanted him so much it hurt. “Please . . .”
“How do you want it?” he asked.
Elena loved that he asked her, but right now she wanted him to take her as he wished. She needed him to be the Dom she’d always wanted.
“I am yours . . . use me.” She hoped he would understand. She wasn’t ready yet to speak freely of her submissive desires.
He lifted his head, his blue eyes sharp on her face as he studied her.
“Kiska . . .” He spoke the word with such gentleness she almost cried.
“Please, sir, you know what I need.”
Take me, erase the darkness. Fill it with pleasure.
He adjusted his grip on her wrists, keeping them above her head as he braced his other arm beside her. They locked eyes, his gaze silently questioning whether his pinning her down was too much. Her body blushed at the thought of all the things he could do, things she would trust him alone to do if she were truly bound to the bed. She raised her chin and smiled at him, inviting him to keep going. His lips slid into a wolfish grin. She parted her thighs, and he shifted a little.
He thrust deep and hard inside her, taking his pleasure, and within seconds, she was shooting toward that blinding peak, exploding into glittering pieces of ecstasy. She was a creature of pleasure, not pain. She was satisfaction itself as she came apart. But the moment didn’t end. He continued to make love to her, delaying his own satisfaction over and over until she was limp and so happy she was nearly delirious with it. She had just enough strength to roll her hips, inviting him to take his pleasure.
He came after her with a shout that shook the bed frame. Dimitri buried his face in her neck, and she lay limp, boneless, too sated to do anything but smile.
“You will kill me, woman.” His muffled grumble made her giggle.
She’d finally found it, the relationship she’d always wanted. A Dom who understood her. Dimitri rolled onto his back, bringing her with him, letting her drape over him like a blanket. She pressed her cheek to his chest, counting his heartbeats with exhausted delight.
Someone pounded a fist on the bedroom door.
“Dimitri. Get dressed. We have company,” Maxim said through the closed door.
Elena stifled a shriek of surprise as Dimitri flung the covers off their bodies and got up.
“Who is it?” Dimitri called out to Maxim. There had been nothing urgent in his friend’s tone, and so he did not appear to be worried.
“Friendlies. Just wanted you to know,” Maxim replied.
Dimitri jerked his clothes on. “Friendlies?”
Elena dropped onto her back on the bed. “That’s probably Royce. I called him last night.”
“You did what?” Dimitri spun to face her, wearing only his hip-hugging blue jeans. She didn’t want him to be upset—she wanted him to come back to bed, even though it wasn’t possible now.
“When you left last night, we called him. We need backup if we’re going to get out of this. I’m not going to let us fight Vladimir alone.” She didn’t want anyone to die needlessly, and they needed backup. She’d planned on telling Dimitri today, but she didn’t know Royce would drop everything and fly here overnight.
“There is no us, Elena. You and I will wait for them to know where you are, and then we’ll leave—that’s it.” Dimitri’s eyes were stormy, and Elena knew they were headed for a fight, but she wasn’t about to back down.
“Yes, there is an us. Your friends will be outnumbered. I wasn’t going to run and leave them to die, and you don’t want to either. I’m not letting you make me the reason they die.”
“So you will risk others who have no reason to fight for this?”
She glared at him, stark naked. “No reason? They have every reason. I’m tired of bullies running the world, and so are they. You want me to be a symbol that people can rally around? Being a symbol is more than just showing up and looking pretty for the press. If I am a Romanov, that has to mean something, or else it means nothing. It stops now. It stops with me. Royce and his friends agree with me. This is something they want to do. The Kremlin doesn’t have the right to erase any history, especially mine. If they want to kill me, I will make it hard as hell for them.”
Dimitri stared at her for a long moment. “Get dressed. We will continue this discussion later.” He grabbed his boots and shirt and stalked out of the room.
“No, we won’t,” Elena muttered to herself.
She took a hasty shower and dried her hair before heading to the great room. The front door was open, and a group of men now lingered at the entrance. Cold winter air blew in with swirls of snow behind them as they all crowded close together, talking as they carried bags inside.
Elena spotted Royce among them. He and Dimitri were speaking, and the look on Royce’s usually charming face was hard as stone. A man with dark-red hair was speaking with Leo, who nodded at whatever he was saying. Another man, this one in his late forties with gray hair streaking his temples, was shaking Maxim’s hand while he spoke. She recognized him as one of Royce’s men from Mongolia. Hans Brummer, Royce’s friend and occasional bodyguard.
Another pair of men who were nearly identical in features were lugging massive black cases inside the house. The only difference she could see between the two was that one had slightly longer blond hair and wore cowboy boots. Elena assumed the cases were filled with weapons.
She’d told Royce to come prepared, and he’d assured her he would bring an arsenal.
“It’s like a convention of badasses, isn’t it?” someone said from behind her. She jumped and turned to see a man close to her age watching the scene unfold. He grinned, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. His shaggy sandy-colored hair made her think of the young men she’d glimpsed in the distance in LA as they carried surfboards toward the beach.
“Yeah, it’s kind of scary,” she agreed.
“I’m Cody Larson.” He held out a hand. “You must be Elena.”
She shook it, noting the jagged white scars on the back of his hand.
“Sorry.” He pulled his hand away and tugged the sleeve of his sweater down over the scars. “Some asshole with a metal mallet decided to play whack-a-mole with my hand.”
Elena’s stomach clenched with sympathetic pain. “What happened?”
“Long story. I’d need half a bottle of tequi
la before I tell that one.” Despite his playful smile, his eyes were filled with pain. “I hear you’ve had shit of your own to deal with.”
Elena nodded, feeling insanely self-conscious. It was one thing for Dimitri and Royce to know the details, but these new men were strangers.
“Who . . . who is everyone else?” she asked Cody in a whisper. “I only know Royce and Hans.” Even though he was just as devastatingly handsome as these other men, he was far less intimidating.
“The blond guy in the black boots, that’s the boss man, Emery Lockwood. He runs Lockwood Industries in New York. The man next to him in the cowboy boots is his twin brother, Fenn. He runs a ranch here in Colorado. They’ve been through some serious shit too.”
“Wait . . . you mean those are the Lockwood twins?” She’d grown up hearing about the infamous kidnapping that had happened twenty-five years ago, before she was born.
“That’s them.” Cody’s face was grim. “And the older man, you know him, Hans Brummer.”
“Yes, I met him in Mongolia.”
Cody suddenly grinned. “That’s right. I was the one who messed with the digital billboards and had them flash in Morse code while you guys escaped.”
A memory of that day, of being trapped in the car, of it crashing and her escaping from Vadym and his men, flashed across her mind. Cody’s message had helped warn Royce that the traffic lights were being tampered with, giving them the chance they needed to reach the embassy. She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight, her eyes closed as she fought off sudden tears.
“Wow . . . Yeah . . . Hey.” Cody patted her back awkwardly until she released him.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t know you were the one who did that. You saved us all. Thank you.”
Red stained Cody’s cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He tried to play it off. “It’s cool. Just all part of the job. So . . . right . . . the guy with the red hair, that’s Wes Thorne. He’s a sort of an art collector.”
Cody chuckled. “I know they look like rich playboys, but trust me, they know their shit. Hans has trained all of us, even me.”
That helped her relax a little.
Cody then called out to Emery, “Boss man, where should I set up?”
Emery looked to Dimitri, who nodded at Leo. “Cody, you can work with Leo,” Emery said.
Cody smiled at Elena again as he slipped past her and followed Leo into a room down the hall.
Having finished talking to the others, Royce came over and hugged her.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “Dimitri is upset I called you for help,” she warned him.
Royce gave her a wink. “He’s fine with it now, I promise. How are you holding up? Kenzie was so worried when you called.”
“I’m okay—getting better. Thank you for sending Dimitri to look after me.”
He chuckled. “That was all his idea. He might have been a tiny bit obsessed with you. I would never have let him follow you to California if I thought it was a bad idea.”
“He’s been wonderful,” she admitted. The best thing in my life.
“Be sure to text Kenzie and let her know you’re all right,” Royce said to her before he called his friends over to start introductions.
Elena stepped back against the wall as the men paraded past her, each one stopping to shake her hand and introduce himself before Nicholas showed them to their rooms.
When at last only she and Dimitri were left in the hallway, he locked the front door. There was a strange finality to the moment, and it made something flutter in her stomach. Was Royce right? Was Dimitri fine with the others showing up now? Royce turned to face her.
“Are you still mad at me for calling in the cavalry?” she asked him.
He stalked toward her, backing her against the wall, an unreadable expression in his eyes as he placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned in.
“I was never mad, kiska, only worried. These men are my friends as well. They are more than capable of helping us, but I fear for every life under this roof, especially yours.” He closed the last few inches between them and kissed her. His seduction was so thorough that when he finally pulled away, she’d completely forgotten where she was. Her beautiful Russian badass smiled down at her, far too satisfied with his effect on her.
“One of these days I’ll figure out how to do that to you,” she warned.
Dimitri stroked a finger down her lips. “I will enjoy every attempt you make.” Then he took her hand in his and led her into the great room, where Maxim was waiting for them.
“We have everyone settled in. I’ve spoken to Hans, and we think we have a plan, if you want to hear it.”
“We’re listening.” Dimitri gave Elena’s hand a squeeze. She squeezed his hand back in silent appreciation. They were in this together.
Vladimir stood outside the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas, scowling. He was so close, he could feel it. He had tracked Viktor’s movements to Malibu, but he hadn’t left the city by any traffic or CCTV cameras. There was only one explanation—Viktor was dead, and Vladimir was convinced that the man in the photographs Viktor had sent to his handler was responsible.
Dimitri Razin, the Russian billionaire Elena had been seen kissing, was more than he appeared to be. There had been a photo of Razin, blurry at best, taken in the lobby of the Bellagio the day after Viktor had taken the photos of Elena and Razin together. Razin was now on Vladimir’s radar. Whoever he really was, he had smuggled Elena out of California and had hidden her somewhere. Vladimir had run into a dozen dead ends already. It was nearly evening, and he’d had no luck whatsoever tracking down further leads.
His phone vibrated, and he removed it from his pocket. The number showed his office in Moscow.
“Yes?” he answered with a growl.
“Sir?” It was Viktor’s handler. “I think we might have something.”
Vladimir waited for the nervous man to continue. “Well?” he snapped when the man didn’t speak.
“It’s a photograph we picked up on social media. We believe it’s the girl.”
“How certain are you?” Vladimir’s eyes scanned the crowds of tourists funneling into the hotel, just in case.
“It’s a seventy-eight percent match.”
“Where is she?”
“Colorado, the resort town of Steamboat Springs. She was outside a restaurant.”
“Book me a flight there now. I’m headed to the airport. Activate the nearest agents in Colorado. I want at least thirty men to meet me there.”
“Yes, sir.” The handler hung up.
Vladimir’s hands twitched. Soon he would kill the girl and rid himself of the liability her existence posed. It might even result in a promotion if he played his cards right.
18
Elena fell into a rhythm over the next few days. Each day she trained for two hours with Dimitri and Maxim in the exercise room. Then Hans took her out into the woods behind the cabin to practice shooting a gun. Guns made her nervous, but the bodyguard had an easy way about him that put her at ease. He showed her the different kinds of handguns she might encounter, but when it came to firing, she used one with a silencer so the cabins a mile away on either side wouldn’t hear the steady stream of gunfire. They didn’t want to draw attention to their activities from the local authorities.
“Feel the weight, and prepare for the kick. Remember, squeeze, don’t yank.” Hans adjusted her stance, and she pulled the trigger. The tin can sitting on a stump didn’t move, but she could tell she’d hit the stump below it, so her aim wasn’t that far off. She frowned and bit her lip, wishing her aim had been better.
“It’s easier to hit a body than a can,” Hans said. “The target is much bigger.”
“It’s even harder to think about hitting a body.” She shivered at the thought of taking a life. She wasn’t a killer.
Hans took the gun from her hand and flipped the safety on.
“Sometimes you have to let your
lizard brain take over.”
“My lizard brain?”
He tapped her temple. “Yes, the part of you that developed survival instincts millions of years ago. There’s a fancy term that scientists named your lizard brain, but what it boils down to is your gut, your instincts. These men coming after you have one goal: to kill you. There will be no mercy, no chance to reason with them. They will just act. So you must as well.”
He was right, but Elena didn’t like to admit it. If it came down to it, she might have to kill someone to live.
“The men they send here won’t be innocent or novices—they will be hardened killers with blood on their hands. They will murder whoever they are told to without question. That’s who you are fighting. Some might argue they are fighting for their country or some other bullshit, but if their government is afraid of a twenty-year-old girl for no reason other than her ancestry . . . well, that government has bigger problems and shouldn’t be in charge. Point is, you don’t owe these men any mercy.”
Elena swallowed hard and stared at the snowy woods. The sunlight had emerged from the cloud bank and lit up the dusting of snow that had fallen the night before like diamonds. Soon these quiet woods would be full of violence.
She pulled her coat tight around her. “Let’s go back inside.” Hans put a hand on her back, indicating for her to go ahead of him.
Inside, the house had changed. Furniture had been moved around to provide clear pathways, windows had been boarded up on the ground floor, and strange reflective panels had been installed along many of the thinner walls. Cody had explained that they were meant to reflect any heat detection systems from the outside. So if anyone was attempting to get an accurate reading of how many people were in the house, they wouldn’t be able to.
Hans set the gun on the kitchen counter, and Elena dropped into a chair next to Leo, who was working furiously on his keyboard. Cody sat next to him, his own laptop open. The two of them spoke occasionally, checking each other’s screens and speaking in a tech language that left Elena completely baffled. The two men hooted in triumph, and Cody held up his hand for a high five, which Leo gave with a boyish grin.
