Ilya looked away. When he looked back, his eyes flashed with understanding. “194,” he murmured, his voice indicating he had understood something in his mind. I frowned. He explained, “The Russian new champion fighter. 194. You were watching him in the training pits.” Ilya nodded and said, “He has scars and words tattooed on his skin.”
My stomach rolled at the thought of that frightening male. But Ilya was right. When I had seen him watching me, I couldn’t help but watch him back. “Yes,” I replied. “I am used to males staring at me. I am used to the fighters watching me on Master’s arm, but when I saw that warrior, I couldn’t help but stare. He has scars. The tattoos … the red mark around his neck.” I shook my head, disappointment flooding my heart. “But the male wasn’t clear to me. For a silly moment, I let myself wonder if that fighter could be the male from my dreams. But although similar, he also looked so different from what my dreams show me.” I laughed a mirthless laugh. “I am being foolish. All fighters have scars and tattoos, many have collars or contraptions that Master forces upon them to inject them with his drugs.” I sagged into the mattress. “For a moment, when I saw him watching me, I wondered if he knew me, if he could possibly explain why someone who looks like him is in my dreams. But I forgot it quickly. When Maya told me of my brother, the young boy I see at night made sense. But he looked nothing like the male in the pits. It was wishful thinking that I had anybody in this place. That I wasn’t alone.”
Silence stretched for a moment, before Ilya said hoarsely, “You have me.”
My lips parted as a short breath left my mouth. Ilya’s unwavering eyes never strayed from mine. And I felt it, I felt the truth of his words. I felt my heart beat louder and faster—a beat created just for him.
“You have me, too,” I replied, and laid my hand on the side of his neck. Ilya took in a slow breath. Chest filling with light, I closed in and kissed his bruised mouth. But Ilya didn’t seem to feel the pain. Instead his hand raced up my back to thread into my hair. I moaned as he pulled me closer against him, my breasts now flush with his chest.
And we kissed. We kissed and we kissed until I broke away on a gasp. But Ilya stayed close by, his hands traveling over my bare skin, making it bump in their wake. My eyes fluttered shut at the feel. Ilya groaned as my hand ran down his chest, my finger stroking his lower stomach. I opened my eyes just as Ilya rolled me onto my back. He moved to climb above me, but as he did, he hissed out a pained sound. I stilled, seeing his teeth gritting together. “What is it?” I asked.
Ilya flopped back to the mattress, his muscles tense with pain. “The fight today,” he said in a low, husky voice. “It drained me.” I roved my eyes along the expanse of his body. Severe wounds and large black bruises covered almost every inch of his skin. When I met Ilya’s eyes, he confessed, “I want you.” He swallowed and added, “I need you. I have to have you with your name on my lips and mine on yours. Us, together, each as someone.” My lungs held in a breath as he added, “More than the numbers Master forced us to be.”
Needing it too, I exhaled and moved above him. Ilya watched me with hunger in his eyes as my hand drifted to his hard length. His cut lips tightened when my fingers wrapped around him, and he hissed a guttural groan when I began moving my hand up and down.
My skin began to heat at the sight of this warrior as he closed his eyes and arched his back. I knew I had taken many males before, but never like this. I knew I hadn’t, even though I had no memory. Because no one else could ever make me feel like this. No male could ever make my heart beat like Ilya.
I drank in his hard muscles and dark tattoos. Then I suddenly cried out when Ilya moved his hand to the apex of my thighs. I moaned as his fingers ran along my core. The pleasure he brought made my hand work faster on his length. Ilya growled a low, savage groan. I saw fire light in his eyes, and as I leaned down to kiss him, to join his lips with my own, he pushed his finger inside my channel and I burst apart with light.
My breathing was hard and heavy as my body jerked against his. When I raised my head, Ilya said, “I need you.”
Acting on instinct, I released his length. Lifting my legs, I carefully straddled his waist. Ilya’s hands immediately planted on my hips and his expression showed his possession, the approval of where I now sat.
I moved a hand to cover one of his own, and as I did, we both stilled. I met his eyes and he met mine, and I knew, without words, what was being said: We had each other.
Ilya and Inessa—the High Mona and the champion.
Forbidden.
Reaching behind me, I guided his length inside me, slowly leaning back until he had filled me so impossibly full. I gripped his hand as my head drew back at the feel. Shivers raced up my spine as Ilya began guiding my hips to move. I lifted up, then lowered back down, building speed in tandem with pleasure.
Ilya’s hands roamed over my body. My eyes snapped open when Ilya palmed my breast and whispered, “Inessa.”
I froze as I stared down at him. He was watching, waiting to hear my response. Moving my hips, seeing his nostrils flare, I replied, “Ilya … my Ilya…”
As his name left my lips, something in Ilya broke. His control snapped, unleashing a hungry snarl that ripped from his mouth. This time, despite his pain and injuries, Ilya lifted his torso. With strong, unyielding arms, he wrapped them around my waist and flipped me on my back. Ilya was over me in seconds. His body blanketed my own. His thick neck was corded with veined, tense muscles. Positioning himself between my legs, he pushed forward. We both cried out as he filled me again. As he braced above me, I turned my head and placed kiss after kiss on his wrist. I felt his racing pulse flutter beneath my lips. When I looked back up, Ilya was staring at me, his hips rolling, piercing me with pleasure. Reaching up, Ilya panting harshly above me, I ran my hands down his broad back. At my touch Ilya, groaned, head tipping back.