Page 54 of The Lazarov Bratva

I obey immediately, and he sets it onto my tongue. Then he cups the back of my head and guides me up just enough to take a mouthful of orange juice through the straw. He repeats this with the second pill and then lets me rest back. The sweet tartness of the orange juice and the chill of the liquid have me craving more immediately, and I wet my lips as the juice soothes the cotton in my throat.

“I mean it, though,” I say after a moment, flexing my fingers. “I would have come if you asked.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kristof asks calmly.

“Yes! So… Can you untie me?”

“No.”

“Why?” I pull sharply at the ropes. “I mean it. You won’t say the word kidnap, but you’ve brought me here against my will and I still don’t understand why. But if you wanted me with you, I would have come willingly. Can’t you just untie me, and we can talk?”

“We are talking.” Kristof stands and returns to the foot of the bed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The sight of his thick arms bulging and his tattooed pecs bunching slightly under his shirt thrills me in an unexpected way.

I’m so fucked up.

“But we could talk better?—”

“No,” he snaps, and I flinch, my heart skipping up to the hollow of my throat.

“Why?”

“Alena…” His brow pinches together, and his lips press in a firm line. “I don’t believe you and I don’t trust you yet. Too long, I have scraped by for your father. Too long, I’ve put my neck on the line, and yet it was worth it because ever since our kiss last year, I haven’t been able to breathe properly. You consume me in such a way that I can’t exist without seeing you, and life has dragged me from you again and again. So when I saw my chance to take you, to keep you safe in a place where I can look at you whenever I need to breathe, I took it. Now, I’m no longer on a leash that tightens at the mention of fucking Mikhail. Now you are mine, and you will stay here for as long as I want to use you.”

His voice trembles slightly at the end, and a pull of want ripples through my body. He speaks like a man possessed, and never has someone spoken about me with such worth. It causes a sting of emotion to crawl up my throat and warmth to flood behind my eyes.

It’s like a dream.

“You can trust me, though,” I insist as my mind floods with possibilities. He wants me, and I’ve wanted him for so long I’ve lost count. “I hate it there. I hate being a prisoner where my only worth is being sold off to further the Family. Where Mara looks at me like I’m something she brought in on her shoe, and she’s so cold. Where my father floods me with gifts and love that’s just to make up for the neglect that exists around actually getting to know me. You— you’re the only one who’s ever shown me real care and affection, and I’ve craved you ever since that kiss. Surely, last night shows I want you as much as you want me. You don’t need to keep me here like this. You don’t, I swear!”

Unfortunately, Kristof merely smirks. “Nice try.”

Frustration builds. There’s no trust or belief in his eyes, and he taps the fingers of one hand against his opposite forearm.

Does he think I’m trying to trick him? That I’m just saying this to get free? Static floods my chest as Kristof shakes his head and it takes all my effort not to pout. It’s not until I pull hard on my ropes once more that I realize the ache in my skull has faded. Those painkillers are good.

“Nice try?”

“You think all I need is words, and I’ll let you go?”

“I’m not asking to leave, didn’t you hear me? I want to be here!”

Kristof chuckles darkly. “We’ll see about that.”

“You’re just like all the rest,” I snap before I can stop myself. Somehow, this is perfect and not perfect at the same time. In my dreams, Kristof never doubted my sincerity, but here, it’s like he expects me to trick him.

“All the rest?” Kristof’s brow dips sharply.

“You refuse to see what’s right in front of you, too caught up in what you think is right.”

“Trust is earned,” he repeats. “I hear you, but time will tell whether you’re telling the truth.”

“Trust is a two-way street,” I bite back. “Why should I believe that you aren’t going to kill me and cut me into itty-bitty pieces to hurt my father? Or leave me here to rot, hmm? You already fucked me, and I begged for more, so how more trustworthy can I be?”

“Well…” Kristof snorts and leans forward, one rough palm sliding over my calf and sending a flurry of tingling excitement to my core. “You’re even brattier without alcohol, aren’t you?”

“So what?” I snap, my cheeks heating up.

“Taming brats is my specialty.”

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