I wasn’t a pleasant gift to him, like Maya had told me the monebi were to other warriors. I was nothing but a nuisance.
I didn’t know why, but a slice of pain cut through me at this stark rejection. Sighing deeply, I shuffled back to my corner and meekly said, “I understand.”
901 remained unmoving until the chiri came to take away his food. I closed my eyes, praying for sleep to hurry and take me … when I heard the soft hiss of the bracelet, and then I felt the searing pain of the drugs injecting me.
I stifled a cry as the drugs shot through my blood like a flow of flames. It took only a minute for my thighs to clench together and my core to pulse in need.
“No!” I heard 901 bite out.
Opening my eyes, still able to speak through the drugs, I said, “Don’t.” 901 had jumped to his feet. At my words, he stilled. As a wave of blistering heat poured through me, crashing at the apex of my thighs, I met his furious gaze and commanded, “Don’t.” I gritted my teeth when my stomach cramped. “Just leave me.”
901’s head whipped back in shock. “You’ll die.” I saw his hands ball into fists at his sides. A moan escaped my mouth as I slid down the wall, placing my hand between my legs. 901’s chest moved up and down, the sign of his ragged breathing. I could see his length hardening under the thin fabric of his black pants. My need was causing him to react.
He cursed, then took a reluctant step forward. “No! Stop!” I shouted. He did.
“You’ll die!” he snarled, sounding angry this time.
Even as the pain, the unbearable need, built within me, I managed to demand, “Then let me die.”
I saw the impact my words had on the warrior. He staggered back, my response seeming like a physical blow.
Recovering quickly, he moved to my side, his expression determined and stern. “I won’t let you die.”
A bead of sweat dropped off my head as he glared at me. My heart sank when I realized he meant every word. But I wanted to. I wanted to let go. Then, as 901 hovered close by, I also heard the scarred male from my dreams telling me to hold on. I felt my little finger twitch, as if I could still feel his finger wrapped in mine.
I squeezed my eyes shut as a bolt of pain forced my back to arch. Panting, breathless, I opened my eyes and pointed to the cell door. 901 followed my finger and asked, “What?”
“Guard…” I rasped. “Get the guard to take me.”
This time, 901’s gaze wasn’t hard or stern, it was positively savage. “You want a guard over me?”
Unable to keep fighting, my body sagged on the floor and I said, “I don’t want you to take me … because…” I hissed as my channel contracted, then forced myself to add, “you don’t want me. You don’t want this … I couldn’t stand to be the one who took away your choice.”
I stretched my body, trying to fight off the cramp seizing my limbs. My vision became blurry as the drugs built and built, making it almost impossible to endure. 901’s expression became engulfed with pain. As quickly as it came, it disappeared. As I pressed my fingers to my core, 901 kneeled beside me, his blue eyes beaming down, directly at mine.
I watched as his breathing increased. I watched as his hands hooked onto the waistband of his pants and pulled the fabric down. I shifted as his hard length came into view and he stroked it with his hand. My legs opened as he began crawling over me. His huge chest covered mine, his arms bracing on either side of my head as he lay at my entrance.
I shook my head, feeling the cold floor beneath me. But 901 leaned down, and in a familiar tender move, brushed back the sweaty strand of hair from my forehead. I paused, the pain momentarily forgotten as he watched me. A small blush covered his stubbled cheeks as he studied my face. In this moment, an unfamiliar feeling sprouted in my heart. This feeling caused me to raise my hand and place it on his cheek. 901 gasped at my touch, his lips parting at the feel.
And we stayed that way, paused in time, locked in the moment, just his gaze trapped in mine.
As another wave hit me, 901 began pushing inside me, quickly extinguishing the brunt of the pain. I gripped his heavy arms as a loud needy cry spilled from my lips. Sliding his hand from my head to my chin, 901 made me look into his eyes as he said, “I do want you, krasivaya. I won’t let you die. I’ll take you, but I just can’t let you have me … it’ll make me weak.”
Beautiful, my mind translated. 901 had called me beautiful.
I moaned as he slammed into me, his thrusts soothing my pain. As I lost my mind to the drugs, krasivaya, krasivaya, krasivaya … circled my head.
Beautiful, he had said. Krasivaya.
901 thought me beautiful.
And he had told me so in Russian.
In the language of our hearts.
The language of our home.
I smiled as his chest brushed against my breasts. I smiled as I looped my arms around his strong neck. Because I also thought this deadly warrior was beautiful.
He was simply … more.
8
LUKA
“Again!” Valentin demanded as I circled him in the ring. I stretched my fingers, then formed them back into fists. I watched as Valentin jumped to his feet, a trickle of blood running down his chin from his lip.
I charged, slamming my fist into his face. Valentin’s head whipped back, but recovering quickly, he shook off the blow and delivered a hook shot to my ribs. My breath was taken away, but before he could gain advantage, I swept his ankle and dropped him to the ground.
I saw Zaal pacing the ring, desperate for his chance to spar. But when Valentin flipped me onto my back, I quickly focused on the task at hand. Valentin’s hands wrapped around my neck, his scarred face hovering close as his eyes shone brightly with bloodlust.