Page 20 of Kept By the Bratva
And Amy, of all of them. He had to try to feel her up.
Possessive anger still thrummed through me, hot and wild. I was livid at the idea of one of the Valkov men pawing at her. And I was enraged that the fucking Cartel got their hands on her at all.
“Amy.”
It was the first time I spoke to her since I ordered her to come with me. There was no denying that she recognized me. I saw the instant she made the connection. Her eyes widened. Her mouth parted in fear and disbelief.
She knew who I was. She knew thatIknew who she was, too.
Dmitri and Ivan would be confused and maybe concerned that I’d taken her alone. They didn’t question me, though. All that ensured was the need to explain to them. Them and Alek. They’d tell him that I wasn’t there with the rest of them to supervise transferring the women to a building on our turf, where they would be guarded and kept in place.
I just couldn’t leave her. I refused to entertain the idea of not keeping her close and making sure she was all right—physically, at least.
“Amy!” I repeated louder when she didn’t reply. “Did they touch you?” I dared a look down toward her legs. That scrape still bled, but it didn’t seem that deep. The thought of this woman being hurt or?—
I gritted my teeth. “Did they hurt you? Did they?—”
She cowered, trying to phase through the door and escape my attention.
I couldn’t blame her. I was furious. I had never been consumed with so much raw, frantic rage as I was at this moment. Thinking that another man could have had her, could have defiled her or used her…
I growled. “Answer me!”
“Your friend,” she spat, still sassy despite the apparent fear. “Yourfriendwanted to sample me.”
I clenched the steering wheel harder, physically shaking with anger, as I turned into the parking area for one of my residences. Before Alek threw Pavel out of power, we all made sure to have our own properties that the rest of the Bratva didn’t know about. That was how littlewe’d trusted our uncle. In case things went south, all of us five brothers had our own places to retreat to.
Alek knew about this apartment of mine. But he wouldn’t come here looking for me now.
Amy was alone with me, and I needed that privacy, that moment to think about what I could do with her. I stopped the car and led her to the basement suite, annoyed that she’d snapped out of her trance-like status of fear to resist my prodding. She didn’t protest, not out loud while I dragged her by that short length of rope, but her glowering looks spoke loud enough. I felt the burn of her stare, but it didn’t penetrate deep enough to make me change my mind about my actions.
Even if that fucking soldier hadn’t run his mouth about “sampling” her and thought these women could be ours for any personal enjoyment, I wouldn’t have let Amy go back with the group.
She was too good. She deserved something good. That intrinsic and instant connection I’d felt with her that one night had me convinced that she deserved the whole world, the stars and the goddamn moon, too.
But I wouldn’t be the man to give it to her. Now, more than ever, it was crystal clear how she would never belong in my life. Her reaction of pure dismay at the horrendous and grisly violence of a gunfight proved it. She was too damn sweet and innocent. While she sure as hell had the backbone to fight and try to get away, she would never harden her soul to the bleak darkness that was a necessity in my life.
She was stiff, recoiling from my touch after I opened the door and brought her into the one-room apartment. I locked the door to this windowless unit, and I tried not to take it personally when she slipped to the furthest corner of the living room.
“Come here.” I wished I could gentle my tone, but I was too mad and off-balance by this whole incident of finding her the way I had.
She didn’t listen, determined to protest and disobey me, but I overpowered her anyway. I reached for her and dragged her toward the light. Flailing and dragging her feet, she tried to stay small and to the corner, but I got her near the brightest lamp.
A quick slice of my knife severed the rope at her wrists. She blinked, looking dumbly at the bindings falling to the carpet. Her bare feet were so pale, cutting a contrast to the dark-brown material covering the floor, and I scowled at the sight of the blood there.
“What—”
She flinched at my voice, retreating once more like she couldn’t stand to be near.
Over a month ago, she’d clamored for my touch. My mouth, hands, and dick. Just last night, she’d arched up and reached high to kiss me back like the fiery, sensual woman she was.
Right now, she seemed to find the concept of standing within my reach abhorrent.
And I couldn’t blame her.
It would never work between us, and this interaction solidified it in my head. I knew my stupid thoughts and fantasies about having her as my one woman for life were just that, dreams. Idyllic, ridiculous wishes for the impossible.
In my heart, though, I felt the now-familiar burn of wanting to see her happy and smiling. Lower, with my dick, I realized the return of desire, potent and feral, to feel her sweet heat.