Page 52 of The Lazarov Bratva

Just me.

I’m tired. The throbbing in my skull has grown tenfold, and now that I’m fully awake and no longer thrashing, every part of me aches. I can hear Mara in my ear, telling me how dangerous it is for me to leave the Estate and warning me of all the dangers.

I’d been so naive, so sure I knew better.

So certain that one night couldn’t bring any harm.

Dehydrated, tired, and sore, I relent to my bonds and cry until I have no tears left. The silence and closeness of the room are almost smothering, and the tight band around my chest constricts regularly, making my breath catch in my throat every so often. My heart pounds so hard that my entire body quivers, and eventually, a sense of defeat steals across my shoulders like a shiver.

No one can hear me. No one knows I’m here. And the only thing left of my body is my pendant, which is usually a comforting weight, but right now, it’s crushing.

I’m so fucking stupid.

It’s impossible to tell how much time passes. I think I fall back asleep at some point because suddenly, the metal door clunks loudly, and it jerks me awake from my light slumber. My tears have long dried, and what faint calmness had settled in my heart vanishes immediately.

The door clunks again, the sound of locks sliding free, and my chest tightens painfully. I try to move and find a way to hide from whoever is coming in, but I can’t. I can’t do anything.

Slowly, the door swings open, and an impossible darkness greets me. I can’t look away, frozen in fear as I await the man from the club. A silver tray appears first. The man holding it is tall and broad. He’s cloaked in shadow at first, and I shake my head as he approaches. Behind him, a set of stone stairs ascends beyond my sight.

Panic reaches a new height, and then he steps into the light.

Every fiber of my being screeches to a halt in utter confusion.

“Kristof?”

14

ALENA

In all his mouthwateringly handsome glory, Kristof approaches the bed with a tray in hand, and my mind stutters to a stop.

I’m in Kristof’s house? Last night wasn’t a dream?

Dressed in dark blue jeans and a charcoal silk shirt that’s half open, giving me a full glimpse of the dark ink that swirls across his chest, memories from last night roar to the forefront of my mind. Everything becomes so clear so quickly that it’s almost painful. I can only gape at him.

I did sleep with him.

He threw me down and fucked me in that club, like some kind of savage animal, and I drank up every second of it. His touch, his warmth, the raw power that poured from him. From the club to the limo, he was all over me, and I was utterly enthralled by every single touch.

He took my virginity in that room too. It was exciting and scary, painful and exhilarating, the most divine sensation I’ve ever experienced.

But now I’m here?

Connecting the dots is a struggle, and I pull slightly at my bonds while he sets the silver tray down on the nightstand next to the glass of water. There’s a granola bar, some orange juice, and two white pills sitting in a small porcelain dish.

I turn my gaze up to him, studying his handsome face, his well-kept goatee, and the steel grey of his thick hair. Suddenly, irritation swells in my chest, replacing the fear.

“What the hell?” I snap, pulling at the ropes to emphasize my point. “What is going on? Why am I tied to the bed?”

Kristof chuckles dryly and moves slowly around the bed. His silence only irritates me more.

“Why am I naked? Why am I here? Where’s Katja? What did you do to her?”

Kristof stops at the foot of the bed and fixes me with a steady stare, then he grasps the bottom of the sheet and jerks it away from the bed. I squeal as my naked body is suddenly on display and a hot, full-body blush flushes through me from head to toe. Reflex has me trying to roll and cover myself up, but the ropes prevent me. I’m trapped, fully on display for Kristof as he slowly starts to fold the sheet up.

This is some kind of twisted dream. It has to be.

“Answer me!” I demand, but my voice quavers and I swallow hard, ignoring the burn.

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