Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  Ruthless Doms Boxset

  Jane Henry

  Copyright © 2020 by Jane Henry

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Photography by Wander Aguiar

  Cover art by PopKitty Designs

  Contents

  Ruthless Doms

  Priceless

  Beyond Measure

  King’s Ransom

  Previews

  About the Author

  Ruthless Doms

  Priceless

  Beyond Measure

  King’s Ransom

  Priceless

  Copyright © 2019 by Jane Henry

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover art by PopKitty Designs

  Cover model Cole Goforth

  Photographer Golden Czermak

  Synopsis:

  USA Today bestselling author Jane Henry delivers a high-stakes, gritty story of forbidden romance, devastation, and taboo love that knows no bounds.

  She's barely legal.

  Under my protection.

  Fully off-limits.

  But all mine.

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  Nicolai

  I look at the sea of faces in the cramped, humid high-school auditorium.

  Cheerful. Youthful. Full of hope and promise and pride.

  But I see past every one of them.

  I'm not here to observe the masses getting their rolled-up diplomas and marching off to college, holding flowers from grandparents and parents and boyfriends, posting goddamned selfies all over social media. I've ignored every word the politicians and speakers said, more intent on the conversation around me than anything. I see every eye that looks at her. Everybody within arm's reach.

  I know each exit in this school, and every few minutes run my thumb along the cold metal I have tucked into my pants and the knife in my boot.

  Ever vigilant. Ever watchful. Because this is my job.

  I don't give a shit about anyone else in this place.

  The rest are faceless, nameless, my focus on the one girl who stands out from the crowd because of her sheer, vibrant beauty. The belle of the goddamned ball. She's reckless and impulsive and brilliant.

  My charge. My ward. The girl I've been commissioned to protect for four years.

  The longest fucking years of my life.

  Marissa Rykov.

  Seventeen years old, just two days away from her eighteenth birthday. On the cusp of legal adulthood.

  And the daughter of my father's best friend.

  Off limits, in every fucking sense of the word.

  I've been Marissa's bodyguard since she was thirteen years old. I've stayed in the background, attempting to give her the freedom a burgeoning teen needs, but honest to fucking God, screw that. I failed on that end. I could count every hair on her head. I could tell you the name, date of birth, location, and history of every single damn person she’s interacted with, and every boyfriend knew exactly who I was. I got to know them, too, and each has a folder on file with detailed background checks. Slightly over the top for teen-aged kids, and the files were admittedly slim, but I have no regrets.

  She was just a child when we met, innocent to the ways of The Bratva. Ignorant of the work her father did.

  And now, as she prepares to go off to college, it's my job to keep protecting her.

  I've kept myself aloof. Detached.

  She's a child.

  But as I watch her walk across that stage, her brilliant smile lighting up the whole fucking Northern Hemisphere, my heart squeezes, and I swallow hard. Jesus, I'm proud of that girl. And I'd give fucking anything to keep that smile on her face.

  I look away and school my features. I shouldn't have allowed my admiration to show even for a second. If anyone... anyone suspected how I feel about her...

  My phone buzzes, and I ignore it at first, watching as Marissa walks down the stage on death-defying heels she should never have been allowed to wear. I swallow hard as her father embraces her and hands her flowers. She scans the auditorium, as if looking for someone, when her eyes meet mine.

  I give her a small nod before I turn away and answer the phone.

  "What is it?"

  Laina, my younger sister, is on the line.

  "Do not take your eyes off of her, Nicolai."

  I'm instantly on guard. I swivel around to look back at Marissa, my pulse racing when I see her father at first, but I don't see her. She was here a second ago.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" I hiss into the phone as I push my way through the crowd to get to her.

  "I overheard something I shouldn't have," Liana says, her voice shaking.

  "Tell me." My voice comes out in a choked whisper.

  Where the fuck is she?

  I knock a lady's bag off her shoulder in my haste to get to her. "Hey!" she says, but I plow on, ignoring the angry crowd I shove aside, making my way toward the front of the auditorium.

  "I can't speak freely right now," she says. "I'll call you as soon as I can, but listen to me, do not let her out of your sight."

  And then I see Marissa. Bending down to pick something up, then laughing as she adjusts the ridiculous square graduation cap on her head.

  I exhale a breath I didn't know I held.

  "You fucking tell me what's going on, Laina."

  "I'll call you right back."

  The phone goes dead. Cursing, I shove it in my pocket, keep my head down, and take my place beside Myron, her father. He shoots me a curious look.

  I turn my focused gaze on Marissa. She's walking hand in hand with her motherfucking boyfriend now, and I clench my fist. I hate when he touches her and have had to endure night after night watching her sneak away to be with him. I give her a semblance of privacy. His background's clean, but Jesus what I wouldn't give to break his pretty boy nose for coming near her.

  He has the fucking balls to shoot me an audacious glare. I glare back, narrowing my eyes on him. He knows I'm watching his every fucking move. The prick swallows hard and visibly pales.

  Good.

  My phone rings again. I answer on the first ring.

  "Yeah."

  "Listen to me." It's Laina. "I had to go where no one would hear me. I'm alone but I don't want anyone to overhear. Do you see Myron?"

  "Yes," I say, my eyes reluctantly moving from Marissa to Myron.

  "I went on a walk just now and overheard a talk between two of his men." Her voice is hushed, shaking. We deal with high stakes in the Bratva, and I know intuitively anything that would send Laina into a panic matters. "He made a deal, Nicolai."

  The blood rushes in my ears so hard and fast it's hard to hear her. I know the kinds of deals she could be talking about.

  "He's sold her," she says, her voice breaking. "He's put her up for auction. One week."

  "Who did?" I want utter clarity.

  "Myron," she breathes into the phone. My hands clench into fists of rage so tightly my knuckles turn white. I could kill him, right here, I could beat his motherfucking body to within an inch of his life before I slit his fucking throat.

  This can't be. Our brotherhood does not deal with human trafficking rings. There are no auctions with us.

  What can she possibly be talking about?

  "How do you know
this?" I demand. This is no small task she's given me, no small accusation she makes.

  "I heard it with my own ears," she says on a shaky whisper. "You have to take her. There's no other way."

  Take her? What the fuck is she talking about?

  "No," I whisper into the phone. "I can't do that. I'll come home and we—"

  "Everything okay, Nicolai?" Myron stands a few feet away, his dark black eyes suddenly looking more menacing than I remember.

  Is it my imagination? Or is he really guilty?

  Laina would not lie.

  "Fine," I tell him. It takes effort to keep my voice steady. "Are we off to the party?"

  He's rented a large hall. Food will be catered and he's even hired a live band.

  "Yes," he says, and then he reaches for Marissa. He strokes his hand along her hair with a wistful expression and kisses the top of her head. A fatherly gesture, but in light of what Laina's told me, his gesture makes my skin crawl.

  "Nicolai," Laina pleads into the phone. "You have to believe me. She's being taken. Groomed. And put up for auction."

  "Where?" I ask, rage boiling inside me at the very thought of anyone touching Marissa.

  "I don't know," she whispers. "I have to go. Get her out of there."

  The phone goes dead.

  I look wildly around the auditorium.

  If Laina is wrong, my father will lose his mind, and I'll be punished as a Bratva traitor, facing painful, brutal torture and death.

  If she's right...

  I curse under my breath and follow them to the party.

  Chapter 2

  Marissa

  Nicolai always looks angry and brooding, but I swear, he looks angrier than I've ever seen him look. And it makes me want to cry.

  I try not to look at him if I can avoid it, since I'm terrified he'll see me gawking at him one of these days. That one day, he'll know the way I feel about him. And today will not be that day.

  But even when I'm actively not looking at him... even as I look past him and focus on my boyfriend, my friends, hell, even my father, I feel him. His brooding, powerful presence. Stern blue eyes on me. Those full lips and taut, tattooed, muscles, the way his—

  God.

  I'm a wreck. I can't think about him now.

  But how can I not?

  I swallow back tears as I accept the praise of everyone but the one man I would do anything to please.

  I worked hard at achieving high honors. I was proud walking across that stage, earning my ribbons and diploma with the rest of my class. And I'll miss the friends I met here, as I go off to college.

  So it hurts when he does nothing but glare at me when I get my diploma. It isn't fair.

  I did nothing to deserve his hate. If I could control this, I never would have had him work for my father at all. For over four years, I've endured his endless hovering and thin-lipped silence, his complete lack of humor and smothering overprotection. His stern lectures about how to behave and keeping myself safe. He'd wrap me in fucking bubble wrap if he could.

  Because I'm nothing but a child to him.

  I'm ready to move on, move away from his ridiculous, patronizing ways. Ready to branch out and become who I'm meant to be.

  "Marissa!" Chelsea runs to me when we go outside to the school lawn and throws her arms around me, her blonde hair billowing in the wind. "We did it!" She brings her mouth to my ear and whispers. "Meet me at my house tonight? My parents are out of town. Epic party."

  "Maybe I will," I reply. If I can get away from my bodyguard, that is.

  "Maybe you will what?" Nicolai is standing right there. Of course he is. I feel heat creep up my neck to my cheeks.

  "Nothing," I toss over my shoulder, sliding into the car when he opens the door for me, but he gives me that probing look only I’m all too familiar with.

  "Marissa," he warns, and hell, the way he says my name, that warning tone of his, makes my body react of its own accord. I close my eyes as a rush of heat flares across my chest, my heartbeat accelerates, and my breathing becomes ragged. From his voice. I can't understand why I react this way when he goes all stern and dominant on me. Why it excites me but incites fear, too, like standing at the very edge of a cliff.

  "Nicolai," I singsong back, my voice a little wobbly. I won't look at him. I know those ice-blue eyes too well. Just meeting his gaze will betray too much.

  My inner thoughts. My plans. My feelings toward him.

  "Answer me," he says, and then he does the very thing he shouldn't. He touches me, grasping my elbow.

  My skin's on fire, my pulse racing so hard and fast I can't fight the heady feeling he gives me. God, he smells so good, all masculine and powerful. Though he's barely touching me, it’s like his fingers brand my skin. Every cell in my body snaps to life with vivid, visceral awareness.

  I sigh, and though it kills me, shrug him off. "Nowhere, Nicolai. I'm going to my party. Okay?"

  He climbs in the car, looks both ways, then shuts the door, because that's what he does. The constant vigilance can be a bit stifling.

  When he takes his seat, he sits as far away from me as possible, in the corner of the small interior.

  "Buckle your belt," he mutters.

  "Fuck you," I mutter under my breath, not even thinking about what I'm saying.

  That gets his attention.

  "Excuse me?"

  The sharp tone does nothing to quench the raging fire being in his near proximity causes. To save me from dying of mortification, I take out my phone and pretend I didn't just curse at Nicolai. I have literally dozens of missed texts and notifications, mostly from the graduation, and I'm going through each one when my phone vanishes from my fingers.

  "Hey!"

  Nicolai's molten gaze makes my heart stutter to a stop.

  "Care to repeat what you just said?" he asks. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

  "Actually, no," I quip, reaching in vain for my phone. "Give me that!"

  He raises a dark brow at me, and I swallow hard.

  He's like the polar opposite of my boyfriend. Eric's long hair is sort of rockstar-ish, whereas Nicolai's head is shaved. Eric wears loose, comfortable clothing—he's an artist—and Nicolai's dark, fitted clothing hugs his thick, powerful body like a glove, his muscles defined and intimidating. Eric quotes poetry and talks about anything and everything, and Nicolai says as little as humanly possible in his thick Russian accent.

  Eric is a boy... and Nicolai is a man.

  Oh hell, is he a man.

  "I don't care if you think you're all grown up now that you have a diploma," he says in a clipped tone, his nostrils flaring, betraying his temper. "I won't allow you to speak to me that way."

  My body is an electric wire, humming with need and want and shame and something deeper... darker... something I can't put my finger on.

  "Really," I sputter. "And what are you going to do about it? Ground me?" Like a petulant child I cross my arms on my chest. "You can't—discipline me."

  At most, he reports what I've done to my father, which is infinitely worse, so I shouldn't be poking the bear. And even as I'm challenging him, I'm ashamed of the way I'm behaving. I pride myself on being more mature than the silly girls in my class, and yet...

  "Isn't that the truth," he says softly. "If I were you, I'd consider myself lucky that's the case."

  I blink, and my pulse races impossibly faster.

  There's nothing sexual about this encounter at all, and yet—why does excitement race through me like this? Why do I feel like I'm spiraling out of control, into the unknown?

  "Then give me my phone, please," I say in a whisper.

  "Apologize, Marissa," he orders, holding my gaze.

  "I'm sorry." I acquiesce without a second thought, and it's not just because I want my phone. I don't like making him angry. And I don't like the way his stern correction is making me feel like I'm losing all control. I need to end this confrontation, and now.

  He hands me my phone back, then takes his out, pun
ching out a text so angrily I swear he'll break the damn screen. Something's under his skin, and I have no idea what. It can't just be me, is it?

  Or maybe it is. My heart sinks.

  "Nicolai, I'm really sorry," I say a second time. This time, I feel truly repentant. I don't like making him angry at me.

  He looks up from his phone.

  "What was that?"

  "I'm really sorry," I say. "I shouldn't have been so rude to you."

  A corner of his lips quirks up, making my heart stutter in my chest. The man never smiles.

  "You shouldn't have, but I forgive you. All is well."

  Warmth floods my chest from his forgiveness and reassurance that everything is okay, bright and beaming like the midday sun. Then he's back at his phone, concentrating on something. I pretend I'm on my phone, but I can't help but watch as his gaze goes from casual to dark, and his jaw tightens. He curses under his breath.

  "Nicolai?" I ask curiously. "What is it?"

  But the car cruises to a stop at the hall where my party is being held. Nicolai gets out of the car first, then extends his hand to me. I look at him for a moment in bewilderment. It's unusual for him to touch me like this.

  "Let's go," he says. "You earned this party. You'll enjoy it."

  "Will I?" I ask, with a little snort of laughter.

  But he doesn't respond. He's already on guard, taking in every detail as I step out into the bright sun. Eric is waiting for us, and when I get out of the car he pulls me to him in a quick hug.

  "There she is," he says, handing me a brightly-wrapped package. "Congrats, babe."

  "Thank you," I tell him, squirming under Nicolai's stern glare. I feel him watching as Eric slides his arm around my lower back and pulls me closer to him, then leans in for a brief kiss. Guiding me to the door, we enter, and cheers erupt. I forget Nicolai for a little while. All my friends are here. Every one of them, as well as my family. I join them, allowing myself to be swept away by their enthusiasm.