Scarred Souls: Raze & Reap

by Tillie Cole

  Zaal pulled back, and sliding my hand down to his, I asked, “Would you dance with me?”

  Zaal stilled. His perfectly framed eyebrows pulled down. “There is no music,” he rasped out.

  Moving to the sofa, without breaking his hold, I pressed play on my phone, the device connecting to the house’s speakers.

  In seconds the crackling sounds from the 1940s old recording drifted through the speakers. Zaal sucked in a quick gulp of breath, his eyes fluttering closed. I laid my hands on his broad chest, the beat of his heart hammering underneath. At my touch, Zaal opened his eyes, his gaze glossy.

  Dinah Shore began to sing about her love, who was at war, and her promise that she would wait for him, that she would never love anyone else, never give up her heart. As those words filled up the room, Zaal reached for my hands, laying one on his shoulder, and clasped the other one in his hand.

  Zaal began to lead, his feet moving slowly and unsurely at first, but as the song played on, he became more steady and self-assured.

  Zaal’s eyes never left mine, something indescribable passing through them as he moved me around the room.

  I lay my cheek to his chest, lost in this moment of simplicity and joy, a rare occurrence in our complicated life.

  “I remember this,” he said quietly, and my eyes drifted to a close. “I remember being good at this,” he continued, and huffed a single laugh. “And I remember Anri was not. He would always step on Grandmama’s toes.”

  I listened to every word he spoke, relishing the happiness in his voice in this moment of pain-free joy. Zaal’s arm around my waist squeezed me tighter and I could hear his heart hammering.

  Zaal’s breathing increased, and his stilled feet brought us to a stop. Opening my eyes, the final notes of the song coming to an end, I lifted my eyes. Zaal was staring down at me, and the look on his face made my stomach flip.

  I watched him silently as he brought my hand to his chest. His long lashes blinked. Then blinked again. And with the slight parting of his lips, he said, “My heart, it is full, Talia. It is full, for you.” My throat closed as those heavenly words slipped from his soul. “It used to be empty and weak, now, now it beats strong again.”

  Zaal leaned down. With the gentlest, most feather-light of touches, his soft lips brushed against mine. And I savored his taste. I savored his hands on my back. I savored it all. I wanted time to stop. I wanted time to freeze, to hold us captive in this moment, in this very moment.

  I never wanted it to end.

  The ambient sound of the speaker hissed in the background. Drawing back from Zaal, I pressed my hand to his cheek, and said, “I want to make love to you.”

  Zaal’s forehead creased with confusion, but standing on my toes, I kissed those creases away, and whispered, “Come with me.”

  Linking his hand in mine, I led him out of the living room and up the stairs. No words were exchanged as we approached my bedroom. Not one sentence uttered as we entered the door. I locked us inside.

  Walking to the bed, Zaal followed behind. I turned, and I trembled. Everything about tonight felt bigger somehow. More important. The air around us had thickened, making it impossible to breathe. I knew, I just knew that it was because I was in love.

  I was in love with Zaal Kostava.

  We’d bared our pasts, we’d fought our fates. And at the end, left over was only the purest form of love. Of need. Of us.

  Like Zaal had said, our empty hearts were now full.

  Zaal’s hands were fisted at his sides. His eyes were luminescent with need. As he watched me, I lifted my shirt over my head. Reaching behind me, I unclasped my bra. The material fell away. Zaal’s eyes focused on my heavy, bare breasts.

  The tension thickened, pulsed, clogged our very air.

  Inhaling a long breath, I snapped the buttons on my jeans and rolled them down my legs. A hiss tore from Zaal when my panties came down, too.

  A growl sounded in Zaal’s chest. I stepped toward him, until I was flush against his chest. Zaal watched me, never taking his eyes from mine.

  Laying my hands on his waist, I lifted his shirt over his head. Once removed, Zaal’s thick muscled body met my eyes. I felt my pussy clench and wetness spread between my thighs.

  Yet Zaal stood still. Stood still and let me take the lead, let me undress him, let me love him like he deserved to be loved.

  My hands drifted to the waist of his pants, and I pulled them down, Zaal’s hard long cock springing into view. He kicked his pants off his feet.

  Now both naked, I lifted my hand and ran it down his chest. As my fingers lingered on his toned and defined V, I continued until his hand wrapped around mine.

  Walking backward, my legs hit the bed. I climbed on, Zaal’s huge frame following me. Lying down on my back, Zaal’s nostrils flared as he crawled over me. His body heat melted against mine and I held out my hands, welcoming him into my arms.

  Spreading my legs, Zaal lay in between. His body kissed mine and I felt his length lay flush against my pussy. I moaned at the contact. Zaal, with his long hair brushed back off his face. There were no words.

  I could read every part of Zaal’s face.

  Could see every hungry expression igniting his dark and raw features.

  Gripping Zaal’s wide shoulders, I pulled him down to crush his mouth to mine. The kiss started off slow, teasing, skin brushing against skin. Then as the tension built, so did the kiss.

  On a low groan, Zaal pushed his tongue into my mouth. His hips moved, rocked against my pussy, his hard length dragging over my clit.

  “Zaal!” I cried out, my lips breaking from his mouth on a gasp.

  But Zaal’s hand pressed on my cheek, his touch forcing me to stare into his green eyes. His hips rolled some more, and I was ready. He was flush against me, and I could feel he was, too.

  His eyes were fixed on mine.

  Mine were fixed on his.

  I had to have him.

  He had to have me.

  Lifting my hand to smooth over Zaal’s cheek, I whispered, “Make love to me.”

  Zaal studied my face, and skirting his hand down to my thigh, he spread me further, and slowly slid inside.

  Zaal’s teeth gritted as he pushed forward, inch by long thick inch. I wrapped my hands around his neck, and a pained moan fell from my lips as he filled me to the hilt.

  I gasped at the full feeling, my skin damp as Zaal’s hard body rubbed against mine. He was all consuming. Taking me. Owning me. Completely possessing me in every possible way.

  “Talia,” he groaned as his hips built up speed. But he never looked away. Our eyes stayed fixed as I met him thrust for thrust, my hips rolling to feel him more and more.

  Zaal leaned down, his arms encasing my head. I bathed in his warm breath as my hands lay flat against his back. Zaal increased his speed, my pussy gripping tightly to his cock. I breathed in his scent—musk and sweat and Zaal. All Zaal.

  My skin felt on fire, every part of me glowing with life.

  Grunts and groans spilled from Zaal’s mouth. And I drank them all in. His face tensed and his mouth parted, breathing in and out in short sharp pants.

  Then Zaal’s hips hit harder. I wouldn’t last. It was too much. This intensity. The look in his beautiful green eyes. The look of pure need, of pure love in his face.

  I didn’t think it could be like this.

  I never knew. I never knew it was possible to feel this strongly.

  Shivers ghosted down my back as tingles shot up my spine. My clit pulsed and Zaal’s cock within me brushed over my G-spot deep inside. My pussy clenched and my nipples hardened, my back arching off the bed.

  Zaal’s nostrils flared and his lips tightened. His thrusts pumped faster still, and I knew this was it, knew he was about to fall … fall over the edge with me.

  On a cry, and a final hard thrust by Zaal, my pussy clamped down on his dick and I burst apart at the seams. Stars glittered behind my eyes as I came, the force of my orgasm causing Zaal to bellow out a roa
r.

  Zaal’s chest was damp with sweat, and he dropped his head to the crook of my neck. My eyes fluttered closed, Zaal’s length still jerking, grunts escaping his mouth. His breathing evened out and I placed my hand on the back of his head; I had to hold him close. I needed to anchor myself. My heart felt full to the brim with love, so full I felt I needed his touch to keep in control.

  And I wanted him to know.

  I wanted him to know how he’d changed me.

  “Baby,” I whispered. Zaal’s head turned slightly to the side, his heavy breathing still labored. I guided his head higher, until his bright jade eyes were looking right into mine. My heart stuttered at the wild and primal sight of loose strands of long hair falling over his face. They had freed themselves from his knot and I had to slowly inhale at the sight.

  Taking a deep breath, knowing I had Zaal’s full attention, I placed my palm on his cheek, and confessed, “I love you, Zaal. I completely and wholeheartedly adore you.”

  Zaal’s full lips parted.

  His eyebrows pulled together. “Love?” he asked. His green eyes searched mine as if he could find the answer in their depths.

  His short breaths warmed my face, and I explained, “It’s a feeling. It’s that fullness you feel in your heart, your soul. The tightness and breathlessness you feel in your chest. It’s passion.” I moved a hand to lay over his chest, directly over his racing heart. “It’s the need, the absolute need to be with another, like this, joined, unwilling to be separated for anything.” I blinked away the mist from my eyes, and added, “It’s you and I, Zaal.

  “Love,” he whispered, rolling his tongue around the word.

  “Most males and females with full hearts, hearts full for each other, say, ‘I love you,’ and ‘I love you, too.’”

  “Mmm…,” he replied, his head slightly shaking as if he disapproved. And my heart sank. A raw surge of pain making me breathless. He didn’t love me back.

  Zaal’s skin had flushed as he watched me, a kaleidoscope of emotions flitting across his face. Lifting his hand, he pressed it over his heart, and then over mine. “You are … for me,” he stated, those familiar words, so simple yet so powerful, sounding like heaven to my soul.

  Tears fell, and I realized this was him telling me he loved me, too. “You like to say that better?” I asked, my voice breaking in happiness.

  He nodded firmly, his harsh face straightening in conviction. “You are … for me. No other male. Just me. And me … for you. This is my, ‘I love you.’ These are my words from my scarred soul. They are not borrowed words, but words from my full heart, and my heart only.”

  Those four simple words, “You are … for me,” were the most meaningful words that could ever be spoken.

  Zaal leaned down and peppered soft kisses over my face, murmuring, “You are for me, you are for me,” repeatedly, until I thought my body would burst with light.

  With my hands on his face, I lifted his face to meet mine. Gazing into those green eyes that had taken me captive all those weeks ago, I replied, “I am for you, Zaal, eternally. I am forever for you.”

  The expression that set on Zaal’s face, one of disbelief and pure adoration, stole my breath. He swallowed the heavy emotion built between us, and took my mouth in the most gentle and sweetest of kisses. I wrapped my hands around his wide body, his warmth keeping me safe, making me feel so incredibly safe.

  This was perfection.

  This was my paradise—

  Suddenly a loud crash sounded downstairs. Zaal’s mouth ripped from mine. Gunshots sounded. Loud pain-filled shouts echoed into our room.

  I recognized those voices—Savin, Ilya.

  “No,” I whispered, terror washing through my body.

  Zaal froze when a rush of feet pounded up the stairs. His hand found mine, and just as he was about to pull me from the bed, the door burst open, the wood cracking off the wall. I screamed as men flooded into the room; men with rifles all aimed at our heads.

  Zaal shook with rage. Releasing my hands, he ran at the guards. But just as he was about to fight, a man pushed through the door. A dark man with inky black hair and soulless eyes. He was dressed impeccably, and as soon as he laid eyes on Zaal, Zaal ground to a halt.

  The blood drained from my face—Jakhua, his master.

  Zaal’s face tore apart with agony as he stood before Jakhua. I could see how conditioned he was to obey this man.

  Jakhua, with a heady confidence, glanced over to me and his lip curled in disgust.

  “221,” he said in cold greeting. Zaal’s body stiffened. I could see his eyes squeezing shut repeatedly at Jakhua’s voice. My heart lurched. He was trying to fight the hold, fight the twenty-year-long leash Jakhua had on him.

  Jakhua walked forward and, clicking his fingers at his guards, ordered, “Take the Russian whore.”

  White-hot fear spiked through my body as two of his guards walked forward. I shuffled back along to the headboard of the bed, trying to get away.

  Zaal had begun to pace, holding on to the sides of his head. But Jakhua’s eyes never left mine. I could feel the repulsion. My stomach rolled in response.

  A guard reached out for me, but I kicked out, landing a strike to his stomach. He grunted at the hit, but a second guard was suddenly behind me, and he rammed his fist straight against my cheek. Dazed from the blow, I was unable to fight the guard from wrapping his hand in my hair, using the painful purchase to drag me from the bed.

  And then I heard a blood-curdling roar tear from Zaal. Managing to glance up, my vision blurred by the pain, I saw Zaal run at the surrounding guards. He was lethal in his execution.

  My desperate gaze sought out Jakhua, and I smiled at the pure look of fear on his face. His personal guards pushed him back, as Zaal knocked Jakhua’s enforcers to the ground.

  Jakhua looked my way, and with a smug grin, signaled something to the guards. The guard holding my hair dragged me to my feet. In a rush, my naked body was pushed through the melee and down the stairs. I could hear Zaal snarling, and crashes against the wall, but I couldn’t get free.

  The guards pulled me down until I hit the hallway, where they then wrenched open the basement door and pushed me inside.

  My blood coursed through my body when I was pulled down the stairs. Footsteps followed behind.

  I fought my screams. I needed to be strong. I thought of my father and mother, of Luka and Kisa, and what they’d endured. I wouldn’t give these bastards the satisfaction of hearing or seeing my fear.

  I was pushed against the wall, the wall only weeks before I’d watched Zaal slump against. The guards held out my hands and made quick work of shackling me. The chains were heavy on my limbs and they tightened them until my arms hung above my head.

  I almost passed out from the pain, but I gritted my teeth forcing myself to fight.

  Suddenly I saw feet and when I looked up Jakhua was standing in front of me, his face betraying his rage. Unprovoked, he struck me across the face with the back of his hand. I closed my eyes at the blast of pain slicing through my head. I felt a wetness drip down my chin.

  I tasted the iron taste of blood as it hit my tongue. My lip throbbed. My shoulders ached as the chains kept me suspended, the pain too much to bear.

  Jakhua moved back, and he gripped my cheeks. His furious dark eyes met mine. “You’re the Tolstoi bitch who’s sunk her claws into my dog, huh?”

  I felt anger, white-hot anger. The feeling was new but not unwelcomed. Gathering the blood in my mouth, I spat the contents in his face. Jakhua froze for a beat then struck me again, my cheek pulsing with the impact of the blow.

  Suddenly the door to the basement smashed open. I saw Zaal run down the stairs, his huge body tense, his muscles rippling. His hair fell from the topknot and his green eyes burned with rage.

  As he hit the bottom stair, he turned to face us. His flushed face instantly paled when he saw me chained to the wall. “Talia…,” he murmured, and raced my way.

  The guards raised th
eir rifles, but Zaal kept coming. Looking like a savage animal unleashed, Zaal stormed toward Jakhua. But in a split second, Jakhua had pulled out a long sharp knife from his jacket. Ripping my head back by the hair, he held the knife right against my exposed throat.

  Zaal skidded to a halt. Suddenly losing all his anger, his fear was evident in his expression.

  “Come any closer, I’ll slit the fucking Russian whore’s throat,” Jakhua taunted through gritted teeth. I met Zaal’s eyes. He had no idea what to do.

  “Don’t fucking hurt her!” he hissed. The knife pressed further against my skin. I could feel the sharp cold metal draw blood. A muffled cry slipped from my throat.

  The sound prompted Zaal to step back. He repeated, “Don’t hurt her.”

  Jakhua laughed a humorless laugh. “The animal fucking talks!” I shivered at the disdain in his voice. Zaal’s jaw clenched.

  “The Volkovs have cost me a fucking lot of money. That cunt, the new knyaz, taking you from me has lost me tens of millions in Type A sales.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to breathe calmly. But when the knife pressed against my throat even closer, I gasped for breath. When I opened my eyes, Zaal was pacing, hands fisting at his sides.

  Jakhua pulled on my hair, my head snapping back until the pain shot down my spine. “And this bitch, this fucking whore is going to die. I’m going to kill them all.”

  “No!” Zaal thundered. When his green eyes met mine, my body went limp. His expression had changed, but his eyes, they told me something new. They were telling me “good-bye.”

  “No!” I said desperately.

  Jakhua ripped at my hair. “Shut up, bitch.”

  Zaal tensed, then dropping to his knees, quietly said, “Take me.”

  My heart stopped. I felt like it frosted over inside my chest. “Zaal! No!”

  But Zaal wasn’t looking at me, he was looking straight at Jakhua. “Let her live, and I’ll come with you, willingly.”

  I could hear Jakhua’s heavy breathing in my ear, a heavy breathing that turned to relief as Zaal spoke those words.

  “I have to make my money back,” Jakhua said. “I need one hundred percent obedience. You are to go back on the drug. I need you back for demonstrations of its effectiveness.”