Page 183 of Brutal Savage

With another throaty laugh, he tugs me out the door, and I know it’s gonna be a night to remember.

CHAPTER 38

ELARA

We enter through a guarded metal gate on Konstantin’s estate, driving down a private double road with trees on both sides, as though hiding something sinister beyond them.

“How big is his property?” I ask Tynan.

“I don’t know exactly, but it’s pretty substantial. We have to drive down to another gate, and then his home is about a quarter mile from there.”

“Wow.” I stare out the window.

I should’ve realized Konstantin is filthy rich too.

As we arrive at the tall iron fence, two men with black hoodies and rifles on their backs greet us.

“What’s your name?” one of them asks in a thick Russian accent.

“Tynan Quinn.” He looks at me, waiting for me to give the guard my name.

“Elara Qu—OH!”

A powerful vibration hits my center, and it becomes impossible to breathe. My eyes widen at my husband, because the bastard doesn’t stop it.

My core throbs and pulses, while he fights his amusement.

“What?” the guard asks with an annoyed tone.

“U-u-u-h—mmm.” My nails dig into the leather beneath me.

“Her name is Elara Quinn,” Tynan offers, glancing at me with a glint in his eyes. “Excuse my wife. She’s not herself today.”

The man looks at the tablet he’s holding, then peers at us before the gate slowly parts, allowing us entry. As soon as it does, the vibrations stop, my heartbeats thumping in my ribs.

“Tynan, I swear to God, you better not do that to me again!”

A smile spreads on his face while my entire body thrums with need. This is gonna be worse than I thought.

He clasps my thigh, his fingertips squeezing tight. “You better not be giving me any demands or else I’ll keep it on all night, edging you slowly until you’re coming in a room full of people.”

“You’re such a bastard.” I let out a sigh, loving yet hating the sweet torture.

When he smirks at me, I really wanna punch him in the face.

He continues down a long, winding road that ends with a gray towering mansion.

We pull up to the side of the estate, since the driveway is already filled with various sports cars, with more vehicles parked around the property.

Getting out first, Tynan opens my door and helps me up, sliding his hand through mine. “You ready?”

“To attend a birthday party for the head of the Russian Mob?” I crinkle my nose. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckles as he takes us up the cobblestone steps, where tall white columns sculpted into angels greet us. A guard lets us through the doors, and music instantly surrounds us, soft and classical, which is odd for a man in the Mob. Then again, I’ve learned not to judge.

I squeeze Tynan’s arm with my free hand and burrow myself to his side.

“What’s that for?” he whispers as he leads us past the foyer with its white marble flooring and large sparkling crystal chandelier.

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