Savage Kingdom: A Dark Romance (Sekten Book 1)

by C. Lymari

  People talked about being caught in crossroads, and this was my moment. What was another dead agent to me? I could kill the bitch, her pretty pale body bathing in blood, and maybe that would unravel Yoro. Leave this place and not look back… Before I could even contemplate option two, she spoke.

  “Please…help me,” she cried out. Her sweet voice was a little hoarse, but it was the loveliest shit I’d ever heard. She cocked her head to the side, looking up at me from lowered lashes.

  “My master is not kind. He’s going to kill me.”

  The last thing I had was time to converse with her, but I walked until I was standing in front of her, then crouched.

  “You don’t think I’ll kill you, doll?” I reached out to touch her chin. She looked ethereal like a goddess, or maybe she was a trap.

  Her stormy eyes gazed at me, unflinching. “Had you wanted to, I would have been dead already.”

  I grinned.

  I drew closer to her. She smelled good, soft and fresh. I plucked out one of the knives I carried and brought the tip to the hollow of her throat, tracing the tip up her neck, lifting her chin. Her breathing was even, her eyes wary. Sorry to say, I was intrigued. Then I traced the blade to her lips.

  “Doll, I wouldn’t have a problem slicing this—” I pressed the tip of the knife to her cheek, poking her but not piercing the skin. “—across your throat like butter.”

  Her wintry eyes became like steel in a second. Still, she wasn’t afraid. My free hand went to her throat, choking her lightly. When I felt her gentle pulse, it became real to me that this woman wasn’t afraid.

  I let go of her neck and brought my hand down to her legs. When I forced her legs apart, she seethed. Her nostrils flared, and her chest rose and fell, beckoning my mouth toward those pretty tits.

  “Stop. Touching. Me,” she spat through gritted teeth as I cupped her pussy.

  With my hand still on her soft sex, I looked into her angry gaze. “You didn’t even piss yourself a little. I’ve seen grown men make a mess when I get near them.”

  “Let go of me.” Her voice was hoarse, her Russian accent sounding a little more clear. It was sexy. I wanted to make her scream and hear the different range of octaves pierce the air.

  “Love, you aren’t in a position to make demands.”

  “Didn’t your mother teach you to respect women?”

  “My parents got murdered.” I told her a truth I had never shared with anyone else. “Mum never got around to teach me about respect.”

  I shrugged, then took a deep breath.

  “You either kill me, leave me, or risk getting caught. You’ve been here for five minutes already. Your time is running out…tick…tock.”

  The last words rolled off her cute little tongue, and with that, her fearless attitude sealed her fate.

  She was going to help me get what I needed, and then I would no longer have use for her.

  Looking into his eyes was like drinking whiskey. It got you a little jittery and light-headed, aware that you just might lose your mind.

  The moment he pointed the barrel of the gun at me, I knew I had a choice to make. My babushka said blessings came in all forms, and this man might just be mine.

  I could never kill Yorovich because it went against the contract my father made with him, but if he met his maker by the hands of someone else, that was no skin off my nose. I could advocate about rights and female power, but the truth was years of sociological behavior was ingrained in male DNA. I could be a fire-breathing dragon or a helpless little dove. Men would always respond to weakness; strong women scared them. They resented the fact that having a cock was not enough reason for us to submit.

  So I played the damsel when I was no prey. I was a huntress, and men feared my name. I would use this one, and then once I got from him my freedom, I would leave him.

  His hand was still on my pussy, making me uncomfortable. I was used to fucking, using my body as leverage. Yet, there was something not unpleasant but somewhat embarrassing about the way he touched me.

  It wasn’t sexual at first, but the more he stared at me, the harder his fingers pressed against my folds. Yeah, sorry, not going to get wet for you. I wasn’t an airhead bimbo that got wet every time her pussy got stroked. My body was disciplined, and honestly, sex wasn’t all that appealing. It was just another thing I knew how to do well.

  He removed his hand as he brought the phone to his ear. “Plan B and fast. I have less than five minutes.”

  He hung up. He then opened the lapel of his jacket and took out a black lock-pick kit.

  “Listen, love. I’m going to drag your delectable little body out of here. You try to get cute, I won’t hesitate to use you as a shield.”

  He got close to me, straddling me with his body, his presence suffocating me. I didn’t need to see his gun nor blade to know he was dangerous. It rolled off him in waves. His power radiated from him; it was lethal enough to taste.

  “Confident, aren’t you?” I raised a brow in defiance. “You might not even make it out of this hallway alive.”

  He stopped trying to pick the lock and bent his head so he was right in front of mine. Our breaths mingled. My body went rigid, preparing for what would come. The first unsavory experience is the worst. Every other one is just another bad memory.

  “One thing to know about me, love: I don’t die easily.”

  Before I could reply, the chains came off.

  My throat clogged when he brought them down, his fingers gently rubbing circles against my red wrist. His thumb brushed over the scripted brand by my wrist, but he did not comment.

  Interesting.

  “Let’s go,” he spat.

  He didn’t help me to my feet. Once I was up, he removed his jacket and draped it over me.

  “Brace yourself.” The words had just come out when he pulled out a small detonator and pressed it.

  A loud explosion sounded from the back of the house, the vibrations making the windows rattle.

  “We better move fast,” I told him. “They will try to secure Yoro’s most prized possession.”

  The man grabbed the cuffs and wrapped one around my wrist

  “What the he—” I didn’t get to finish my sentence when he then put the other one on his wrist.

  “You can’t stab my back if you’re at my side.” He started to walk, my wrist burning from where he pulled me. “What is Morozov’s most prized possession anyway?”

  He peeked into the hallway to make sure it was clear before making his way across to the library.

  He pushed through just as people started yelling and heavy feet made their way up the stairs. He didn’t look frazzled, and neither did I.

  We got caught, I would get punished, and he would die.

  How this man knew about the stairs that led to the bottom part that was Yoro’s study, I had no idea.

  He took a deep breath before opening the door to the first floor, preparing himself for bloodshed. Before he could take a step, I blocked him, putting my body in front of his.

  His hand came to my waist, his fingers digging in, not really caring if he was hurting me or not. “Is this the part where you betray me, love?”

  The hushed words caressed my ears. I felt the barrel of his gun digging into my back.

  “You might want to put that to my temple instead.”

  He stayed quiet.

  “Yoro’s most prized possession is me.”

  The gun at my back disappeared, and I felt it gently tap the side of my temple.

  “Good thing he can’t start a war with a ghost,” the man said in a gleeful voice.

  The door opened, and he pulled us out. He saw the guard who was across the hall a few seconds before I did. By the time my eyes had found him, a bullet was already making its way between his eyes.

  My body was pressed close to his, the cuff still digging into my wrist from where he was the one dominating us. My arm moved when his did. More shouting and the few men who were in the house were a little
perplexed for a moment because they knew that if they killed me, it would be worse for them.

  They didn’t realize Yoro was not the monster they should fear.

  “On the count of five, we run,” the man whispered.

  We took off running. My legs burned from trying to keep up with him at an uncomfortable angle. More shots rang out, then another explosion.

  Time seemed to still this time. My ears rang with the piercing noise of the blast, yet my heart remained calm. My legs ached as we ran down the steps, aware time was running out, and I was cheering for this man to make it.

  “Turn me around and give me a gun,” I whispered. “They will come from the back, and you can’t cover both ends.”

  “I’m going to regret this,” he mumbled as he turned me around in a fluid movement that was so graceful one might think we were dancing. He pulled out a small Uzi and put it in my hand.

  “Go nuts, love.”

  I did. We ran, turning positions every so often. Glad that it was only a few men and they weren’t shooting to kill.

  When I saw six black cars approaching fast, my heart beat hard. This is what hopeful thinking got me. Yoro was back, and I was still going to be stuck in the same fucking circle.

  “Thank fuck,” the guy uttered.

  The cars came at full speed, making a circle around us, protecting us from the hail of fire that was raining upon us. He let go of me, pulling open the door to the closest car, and dragged me inside.

  “Thank you, mate.” He grinned as the cars started to drive away. They kept crisscrossing each other so the men couldn’t track who was in each vehicle. It was smart; he was cunning, and it intrigued me. I wanted to know who he was and what the hell his problem was with Yoro.

  The guy turned to me, his amber eyes glowing. It wasn’t lust but pure adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling him. People reacted to fear in two different ways. One, it shut them down, crippled them, and made them lose control. Two, it fueled them like lava running through their skin, making them light up. Fear didn’t go away, but people learned to react to it in different ways. Some let it control them, and others controlled it.

  He took the Uzi from me and put it on his side. He then yanked his hand that was connected to mine. My body leaned with the force, but I steadied myself before I could hit the seat in front of me. He started to work on removing the cuffs.

  The first thing I did was rub my wrist since it throbbed.

  “Three minutes,” the man who was driving said.

  The man next to me gave him a nod.

  “In three minutes, the car will slow down. You are going to open the door and jump to the other one.”

  I took a deep breath, calming myself and ignoring the pain at my feet. Since I had nothing on me, I counted my heartbeats. One hundred and ninety-five until the third minute came.

  The car sped off, going almost a hundred. Then by the third minute, it started to slow down. When it felt like we were going fifteen miles per hour, the man next to me leaned over and opened the door.

  Some moments you don’t see, but you feel them. The rumble of the motor, the glide of wind against your skin, the screaming in your ear. A moment filled with fear that makes you feel free.

  That’s how I felt the moment I jumped into the other car. It was like being suspended in time, free of all worries. I had never been as free as I was at this moment. Freedom, a word that many people took for granted, but it carried so much weight. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me, or if I would see another day, but at that moment I didn’t care.

  For so long, I had been restrained by invisible shackles holding me back, telling me what I should do or be.

  I was a weapon, and it was time I started acting like one.

  My body crashed against the metal of the van, cold under my semi-naked body. The loud thud of the man followed right after me.

  As soon as he was in, the doors closed automatically and the van started to spin. It happened so fast, my body slammed against the other side as the van turned again.

  “You okay?” the man asked.

  It took me a second to gather my wits, and I realized I had not eaten anything since last night. Suddenly my body begged for water, since food I could do without. Slowly, I sat so I wouldn’t lose my equilibrium. I gazed at him as I nodded, and his brows were furrowed.

  He didn’t say anything more but went and leaned on the opposite side of the van from me. It was empty and had no windows. The only light that came through was from the front of the car.

  The drive was quiet until the driver talked.

  “Yorovich’s men just passed us en route back to his estate,” the driver announced casually.

  The guy leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and exhaled.

  “What are you?” I asked before I could think better of it.

  “Who are you?” he countered without looking at me.

  I bit my lip and leaned back, not answering his question. Who I was wasn’t important. If he didn’t know it by now, then he was not of my world.

  The heat of his gaze warmed my skin, making me hyperaware of his attention. I lifted my eyes and saw him gazing at me. Other than his jacket, I was naked, in a see-through baby doll—my body, exposed to him. Any other woman might have tried to cover themselves up, but not me.

  My naked flesh didn’t make me uncomfortable. From a young age, I was taught to not shy or cower but own up to it.

  So I did what I’d been trained to do. I was just surviving.

  There was a small shift in him before he spoke. His eyes widened in surprise. “Bloody hell, you’re fucking hurt,” he spat.

  That’s when I saw the blood that had pooled at my feet.

  Puzzles were a distraction. They were something to figure out when you were bored, to pass the time, not to try and solve when you had a full load of problems.

  The woman was a Rubik’s Cube. Actually, a Rubik’s Cube was a piece of cake compared to her. She had a tongue that was sharp like a blade, a body like an angel, eyes like a wolf, and impeccable aim. Didn’t even bat an eyelash when she handled the Uzi.

  The guy driving the car was quiet. We both knew I was in trouble, but this was not the time nor place to discuss it.

  Being fearless was not the only way I had managed to survive when most would have died. Having a plan A, B, and C had kept me breathing.

  Sure, my government made them possible, but I had an escape plan for everything. The key was to always imagine the worst scenario happening.

  When our driver announced that we had passed Mozorov, it made me feel lighter. Sure, I’d made a mess, but I knew Yoro would pay so word of this didn’t leak to the press.

  “What are you?” The raspy tone of the woman’s voice had me opening my eyes.

  “Who are you?” I countered, looking at her. She wasn’t that old. Her face held a youthfulness, but her eyes were of an old soul—too alert, not enough hope behind her gaze. My eyes trailed to the rest of her, lingering on her breasts. The way the nightgown stopped right above her legs, and there was a shadow that was quite tantalizing, covering her sex.

  Our eyes met, and I knew she was aware of how I looked at her, yet she didn’t care. She didn’t use her beauty to try to get what she wanted—at least not yet. She claimed to be Yorovich’s most prized possession, and I believed her, but I also knew there was a reason why he kept her chained up.

  I’d seen slaves, and she didn’t act like them. There was something stronger within her that didn’t break.

  I stopped looking at her tits and cunt and made my way down to the rest of her when I noticed she was bleeding.

  “Bloody hell, you’re fucking hurt,” I spat.

  Slowly I reached for her leg. I didn’t want the bitch to kick me in the face. There was blood on her left foot and some sprinkled on her right. She had stepped on the glass that had scattered from the bomb.

  Not once had she complained.

  Lifting my shirt, I ripped it from the bottom. When
I had the cloth in my hand, I noticed she was looking at my abdomen, or rather, my tattoos. My chest and back were covered, and my legs. Not my arms or neck, nothing that would make me stand out on a surveillance feed.

  Ignoring her, I scraped the glass off her right foot with my torn shirt. Nothing had pierced the skin, at least I didn’t think so, but it was hard to see with the dirt and blood.

  Now her other foot, I knew there was glass stuck in her.

  “Why didn’t you say you were in pain?” I asked before I started to remove the glass piece that had lodged in the arch of her foot.

  “If I’d complained every time I was in pain, I’d have no voice,” she said casually. She wasn’t looking for pity or praise; she was just stating a fact.

  Maybe I didn’t have to pull the shard of glass as hard as I did, but I was an arse, and I wanted to see her reaction.

  She didn’t fucking flinch, nor did she recoil her leg. She merely looked at her foot, where blood began to trickle out.

  I cut more of my shirt, cleaning up the excess blood, then wrapping another piece on her foot.

  “That should hold,” I told her. Then I leaned back on my side of the van. She still stayed unmoving, just looking blankly ahead. “How long have you been in Yoro’s servitude?”

  She turned to look at me but didn’t speak.

  “Love,” I pressed. “I could toss you out of this car if I wanted. You say you are the thing Yoro covets the most, so how long?”

  “Since I was sixteen.” Her voice was cold, with no emotion behind it. People did that as a shield, a way to mask their feelings. That right there told me a lot.

  “How long has he had you?”

  “If you wanted to know how old I am, all you had to do was ask,” she indicated before adding, “Six years.”

  She wasn’t that much younger than me, just two years. Even though she was young, she carried herself with more confidence than women her age.

  “Did he buy you from the market?” There were rings all around the United States that sold flesh. Rumor had it there was one here too, but it was still not concrete. The one in New York got shut down about a year ago.