Sasha & Andriena #1 (Lovers & Sinners)

by Marita A. Hansen

  “How would you know that?”

  “You don’t have much of a memory. I already confirmed I used to be a guard.”

  “But why would the Black Russian pay millions of dollars for me, then lock me away, treating me like a sheep? It’s illogical.”

  “Not really. He does it to the people he thinks he’s wasted his money on. It’s both a punishment and a means to recoup some of his losses, since butchers tend to pay a lot for a meal.”

  She jerked her head back as though he’d slapped her. “What do you mean by a meal?”

  “You’ve been put into what’s called an animal cell. Prior to my arrival, did you have a bed and table? Were you made to sleep on the floor? Were you given sheep pellets to eat?”

  She shook her head at the first question, then nodded at the rest, her face dropping at each word. “How do you know that?”

  “For fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you I was a guard?” he snapped, the woman obviously of limited intelligence.

  “I have a memory problem, so don’t patronize me. And you didn’t answer me about the word meal.”

  “It’s no longer relevant. The Black Russian has obviously changed his mind, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing underwear and given a bed, but then again, maybe that’s for my benefit, not yours.”

  “Just tell me!”

  “People who are put in animal cells are mostly sold to what we call butchers, or in civilian terms: cannibals.”

  “What?”

  “The Black Russian has a wide clientele, some having unusual tastes—literally. And because you were treated like a sheep, it looks like he was going to sell you to be eaten.”

  Her eyes went even bigger, looking like they were going to swallow her whole face. Her head snapped to the guard behind the glass. “You can’t do that to me!” she screamed at him. “I’m important. I’m from a mafia famiglia! My sister will kill you for it—”

  “Stop panicking,” Sasha cut her off, regretting telling her. “You’re wearing lingerie, so it’s obviously not going to happen now.”

  Her attention snapped back to him. “You said I was going to be killed and eaten. How do you expect me to act?”

  “You wouldn’t have been killed first, you would’ve been eaten alive.”

  She stared at him as though he was a monster.

  “Don’t look at me like that, I find it just as sickening as you do.”

  “It doesn’t sound like it. You said it without an ounce of inflection, and don’t give me that bullshit about hiding your emotions, because no one can say those things without even a flicker of humanity. It’s like you’re dead inside.”

  He grimaced at her, thinking she was partially right. Ever since he’d been sold, people had been chipping away at his soul, weakening it with torture, abuse, heartache, until he no longer knew himself. The happy boy he’d once been was long gone, replaced by a killer who had either no emotion or too much of it—which the irritating bitch would find out if she kept pushing him.

  “You don’t want to see me get emotional,” he snarled, “because I fucking lose it, cyka. So, keep your shit opinions to yourself.”

  Anger flashed across her face. Her back straightened with almost a snap, reminding him of a sergeant major, or a fucking Donatelli that probably wanted him to kiss her feet. “Did you just call me a bitch?” she spat, sounding like she already knew the answer.

  “You bet I did.” He gave her a malicious smile, now purposely antagonizing her, so he had an excuse to teach her a lesson. And he would teach her a lesson, one she wouldn’t forget so easily.

  Her face hardened. “Then, you’re a bastardo. Since you woke up, you’ve been nothing but nasty to me.”

  He sneered at her. “That wasn’t nasty—but this is.” He shot over the bed and charged at her, making her scream and stumble back. He pushed her up against the window, grabbing her wrists as she went to hit him. He twisted them behind her back, making her scream louder. He leaned his face down to hers, instantly silencing her with a snarl. “Keep pushing me, cyka, and I’ll show you just how nasty I can get.”

  She didn’t reply, only her labored breathing reaching his ears. She was also shaking, her expression petrified.

  “Pathetic,” he muttered, disgusted with how weak she was. He was used to strong, vicious women like the Viper assassins, not this whimpering damsel in distress bullshit. It just irritated him even more. Though, his fucking cock didn’t seem to agree with him, because it was still standing at attention. His eyes lowered to her quivering lips, wondering what it would feel like for her to suck on his cock. It twitched, keen on finding out. But instead of acting on his fucked-up arousal, he pushed away from her and stalked back to the bed, cursing the Black Russian for putting him in with the airhead.

  “Just stay away from me,” she quavered, her voice barely audible, almost as though she didn’t want him to hear.

  He lay down on the bed, again thinking she was pathetic. He almost felt like punching his cock for having reacted to her, brainless not his type. “I’m already away from you, you stupid woman,” he muttered.

  “And you’re a—” She bit her bottom lip, her outburst cut short by his sneer. Sasha knew she was going to retort that he was stupid too, but for once she’d used her birdbrain.

  A biting Russian order crackled over the speaker, drawing Sasha’s attention away from her. The previous guard had left, the Black Russian’s number one taking his place. The man was standing behind the viewing-window, doing his usual impression of a statue. Unlike his predecessor, Nikita wasn’t wearing a hat, the Black Russian preferring his hair uncovered. It was long and white, like his skin—Nikita an albino. He looked like a surreal angel—neither male nor female, his fine features and pale purple eyes adding to his angelic appearance. But Sasha knew Nikita was anything but angelic.

  “Last warning, Andriena,” Nikita said. “Go to the door.”

  Sasha pushed off the bed and walked over to it before she had a chance.

  “Sasha, return to the bed,” Nikita said.

  “Not until you tell me what’s happening to her.”

  “Why do you care about the woman, Sasha? Not only did you attack her, you told her about the butchers when it wasn’t even necessary.”

  “She asked, and I’m more concerned with what’s happening to me than her. If she’s leaving, I could end up on someone’s menu.”

  “The Black Russian wouldn’t sell you to a butcher. He still loves you.”

  Sasha raised an eyebrow, thinking Nikita couldn’t be serious. “Is that why he had you and the other guards beat me to within an inch of my life?”

  “He had to show the others what would happen if they betray him, and if you were any other guard, he would’ve killed you gruesomely. And, Sasha, you will heal. Your injuries aren’t permanent. So, go sit back down on the bed. I have to take the woman to see her sister. Unlike you, she may be getting out of the palace alive.”

  Andriena whipped her head around to Nikita. “Is Camila here?”

  “Da, her boyfriend is bartering for your release.” His pale purple gaze moved back to Sasha. “It’s Jagger D’Angelo.”

  Sasha headed back to the bed, knowing that Nikita was telling the truth, especially since the Black Russian would do anything to fuck Jagger. Andriena was obviously just a means to bribe Jagger into fornicating with him.

  “Actually, go to the far corner,” Nikita said.

  Sasha sneered at him. “Are you afraid of me, Niki?”

  “Wary is a more apt word. So, move.”

  Sasha did as he was told. Within seconds, the door opened. A different guard appeared, training a taser gun on him. Nikita appeared next, indicating for Andriena to come with him. She went without protest, disappearing through the door.

  Sasha lay back down on the bed, hoping she didn’t return.

  3

  ANDRIENA

  Andriena followed the beautiful albino guard through the passageway, the man’s long white hair
reaching his behind. He was a magical-looking creature, too surreal to be human. For a moment, she imagined he was a vampire, a stupid thought, but his Slavic accent and looks made her think of one. The memory of sitting around a campfire with her auntie and her gypsy friends returned. She must’ve only been seven or eight at the time. The adults had been weaving tales about vampires and dhampirs—human and vampire hybrids. They’d laughed when she’d hidden behind her auntie, fearful one would get her. Nikita glanced over his shoulder, his pale purple gaze landing on her. She stopped in her tracks, wishing her late auntie could protect her now.

  The guard behind her prodded her to move forward with his taser gun. She bit back her fear and continued walking, focusing on seeing her sister rather than the man before her. She didn’t even care about her half-undressed state, because Camila was here to take her home. Her youngest sister constantly came to her rescue, taking on anyone who bullied her. Once at school, a boy had pushed Andriena into a wall and tried to kiss her. In response, Camila had punched him in the back. He’d spun around to face her, getting another punch, this time in the balls, one hard enough to floor him. Camila had only been fourteen at the time, two years younger than the guy and half his size.

  After ascending some stairs, Nikita stopped by a door, indicating for her to go in. She stepped inside the dark room, spinning around as the door closed behind her. She tried the handle, finding it locked. Now nervous, she switched on the light, getting an eyeful in the process. Erotic art decorated the blood-red walls, the closest painting displaying two naked males having sex. There was also a frieze lining the top of the walls, the raised images of people participating in an orgy, males and females alike.

  Her focus shifted to a massive four-poster bed, topped with a rich red canopy. Lying on the mattress was a man dressed in painted on leather pants, the outline of his cock and balls clearly visible. He was also bare-chested, with muscular arms and a clearly defined six-pack.

  He turned his head to look at her, making Andriena gasp. It was her nephew—Matteo Donatelli. She knew the Black Russian had taken him too, but to see him splayed out before her and in such a sexual manner—she was rendered speechless.

  Fear hit her a second later, his presence making her wonder whether she’d been lied to about her sister. The day she’d been sold, the Black Russian had voiced his interest in having a threesome with her and Matteo, which Matteo had quickly vetoed. But back then he’d been a free man, unlike the erotic creature lying chained to the bed.

  Recognition, then hope lit up her nephew’s face. Her oldest brother’s son was twenty-seven, four years younger than her. Unlike the rest of her family, Matteo was blond and half American. Though, he still had the beautiful Donatelli eyes, her nephew a stunning-looking man. It was why the Black Russian had kidnapped him, which she thought was true karma, since Matteo had helped their uncle to sell her.

  “Auntie, free me.” Her nephew yanked on the chains, making them jingle. “The keys are in the cabinet closest to me.”

  More concerned with looking for an escape, she headed for the door on his right. She poked her head around the corner, finding an exquisite bathroom with an octagonal-shaped bath and marble flooring, but unfortunately no windows.

  “Stop wasting time,” Matteo growled, with a thick American accent. “We needa get out ASAP.”

  Andriena turned to him, giving her nephew a scowl. “You brought this upon yourself, Matteo. You assisted Christo in selling me, now you’re reaping karma.”

  Fear cut across his face, making him appear deceptively innocent, his All-American boy-next-door looks clashing with what he was wearing. He shook the chains. “You can’t leave me like this!” he shouted, looking visibly upset.

  She exhaled loudly, knowing she couldn’t. Despite her nephew being a callous bastard, leaving him with the Black Russian would make her just as bad as he was. She opened the cabinet drawer and pulled out a small bunch of keys. She tried each one until she found the right key, then proceeded to unlock Matteo’s chains.

  Once freed, Matteo jumped off the bed and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big hug. “Thank you, Auntie,” he said, taking her by surprise. Matteo had never shown her affection before, though, it was probably more to do with gratitude than family love.

  He pulled back and grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the door. “Get the guards to come in. I’ll hide behind the door so I can take them by surprise.”

  “Have you seen Camila? They said I was being taken to her.”

  He shook his head. “Probably lies to get you here. The Black Russian kept taunting me, saying he wanted to see me fuck you.” He let go of her hand and moved behind the door, indicating for her to call out to the guards.

  She knocked on the door, not sure if this was a good idea, a bad feeling settling at the pit of her stomach. “Where’s my sister?” she called out, instinct telling her to take cover. “I was told I was being taken to her.”

  The door flung open, making her jump back. It missed her narrowly, but slammed into Matteo, causing him to cry out.

  The Black Russian stepped into the room, making Andriena back up rapidly. The man was a towering wall of muscle, his shaved head barely missing the top of the door. He was a truly terrifying sight to behold; a walking nightmare swathed in black, from his shoes and tailored pants to the onyx buttons on his silk shirt. Black tattoos also covered his body, including his face and cock, the latter something she wished she didn’t know. She took another step back, the memories of what he’d done to her causing her to shake uncontrollably. She wasn’t a brave person, far from it, but even the bravest would quake before him.

  Matteo started swearing at the Black Russian, disproving Andriena’s thought, because the only thing making her nephew quake was his anger. Though, Matteo was an irreverent bastard, with more attitude than common sense.

  The Black Russian’s gaze moved to Andriena’s nephew. Matteo had his hand over his nose, cursing like there was no tomorrow, and with the way he was insulting the Black Russian, it was a distinct possibility. But instead of getting mad at him, the Black Russian’s pale blue eyes lit up with amusement.

  “You’re so predictable, Yuri,” the man said, his Russian accent thick as well as deep. “You did exactly what I thought you would.” He indicated to the bed. “Now, get back where you belong.”

  Matteo dropped his hand, blood running from his nose. “No! And my name’s not Yuri, so fucking stop calling me it, you psycho bitch.”

  The Black Russian chuckled. He looked in his early forties, possibly younger, his face wrinkle free. “I love how you can insult me yet sound so adorable. It makes me want to squeeze you, my sweet boy.”

  “I’m not sweet or a boy, you fucktard!”

  “Oh, you definitely are, otherwise you’d be dead for insulting me. And although I could listen to your lovely American accent all day, I have things to do, so go lie down.”

  “Fuck you!” Matteo spat.

  “No, I prefer to fuck you.”

  “You know what I meant! And I demand you free me. My uncle will kill you for this!”

  “If you’re talking about Christo, he’s dead.”

  Matteo’s face dropped.

  “Oh, I do apologize for not telling you sooner. Tut, tut, that’s rather bad form of me, wasn’t it?”

  “You killed him?”

  “No, your ex-wife did. She blew him up with a bomb. I considered punishing her for it, but she did it in such an ingenious manner I applauded her instead.”

  Matteo brought a hand to his face, looking visibly upset, while Andriena felt nothing but relief, her uncle finally getting what he deserved.

  The Black Russian opened his arms wide. “Come here, Yuri, I’ll console you.”

  Matteo backed up fast. “Don’t you dare touch me, you perverted freak!”

  A smile pulled at the Black Russian’s lips, the whiteness of his teeth contrasting with his tattooed face. It made him look like a shark, one that wanted to devour Matteo a
live. “From what I remember, you loved me touching you,” he said. “When you came, you screamed so loud I was sure Finland could hear you.”

  “I screamed because you yanked on my motherfucking cock!”

  The Black Russian laughed. “You’re definitely not a mother fucker, my gay beauty.”

  “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I want you!” Matteo snapped. “What I want is to be free. So let me go, you Siberian sack of sheep shit. I need to be free. I need to be fucking free!”

  “Firstly, I’m not Siberian,” the Black Russian said, looking like he was trying hard not to laugh again. “And secondly, I’ll be happy to let you go.”

  Matteo stopped ranting, a mixture of distrust and hope battling across his handsome face. “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

  “No. As long as your auntie chooses to free you, I’ll pay for a one-way ticket to wherever you choose to go.”

  “She already chose; otherwise I’d still be chained to the bed.”

  “Wrong auntie.” The Black Russian glanced back through the doorway. “Bring Camila in.”

  A moment later, Nikita escorted Andriena’s youngest sister into the room. Wearing a curve-hugging, navy-blue dress, Camila looked like a harder, sexier version of Andriena, her hourglass figure more pronounced than hers.

  With a shriek of delight, Camila propelled herself at Andriena, almost knocking her down. Andriena hugged her sister back, the two of them clinging onto each other. Tears quickly followed, a mixture of relief and happiness at seeing each other overwhelming them.

  Camila ran her hand down Andriena’s hair. “Why are you half-naked?” she asked, her tone concerned. “Did he force you?”

  “No,” Andriena lied, not wanting her sister to know.

  Breaking the hug, Camila took hold of Andriena’s hand and turned to face the Black Russian. “I’m taking my sister with me.”

  He nodded. “You can, just as long as your boyfriend gives me the payment I asked for.”

  “He’ll pay whatever you want.”

  The Black Russian glanced at Matteo. “What about your nephew? Don’t you want to get him back as well?”