Page 11 of Ruthless Vow

My gaze flies back to Leo.

“You’re mine now,” he says, his expression flat, his tone dripping satisfaction.

5

Nicole

I regain consciousness slowly,like coming out of a dreamless sleep. It’s a gentle awakening.

At least, until it isn’t.

The sharp, intense scent of ammonia burns my nostrils and hits my brain with all the subtlety of twenty espressos injected directly into my jugular vein. My eyelids fly open. A hand waves a vial in front of my nose, making me gasp.

“Smelling salts,” a male voice says.

I’m awake but groggy, disoriented. I’m not sure where I am or what’s happened, but Iamsure that my mouth is as dry as chalk, my head is pounding, my stomach churning. My shoulders, upper back, and neck ache, like I’ve worked out too hard.

“I don’t feel well,” I whisper, staring at the floor.

“A shame,” the same male voice says, the words at odds with his icy tone.

I lift my head and find myself staring at a muscled, male chest hidden by a black shirt that’s open to reveal a V of skin. Tattoos of thorny vines wind up around the base of the man’s throat.

I know this chest, this throat, these tattoos. But my logic and normal brain functioning haven’t quite come back online yet. All I can do is dumbly raise my gaze to meet Leo Russo’s jet-black eyes.

He lifts his hand and something brushes against my lips. A straw.

“Drink,” he orders.

I obey, taking a long sip of cold water. I make a sound of protest when he pulls the straw away.

“Slowly,” he says.

A moment later, the straw brushes my lips and I take another long sip.

He pulls the straw away again and moves out of my line of sight.

The ache in my shoulders and upper back make me wince. I tip my head back and look up. I’m on my feet with my arms raised and restrained above my head, handcuffs around my wrists.

Padded handcuffs. That aren’t just padded…they’re fuzzy. Like a plush toy. And they’re pink.

It strikes my still-muddy brain as funny, that a mafia boss would use padded handcuffs, and I can’t help but let out a small, somewhat hysterical laugh.

“Something fucking funny about this, Nicole?” Leo asks from behind me, his silky tone laced with menace.

“Handcuffs,” I say, then lose my train of thought and forget why I was laughing.

Leo moves to stand in front of me.

“Let’s talk,” he says, the words a command.

My hazy, crazy brain remembers him giving another command.Come.And that makes me remember his long, thick, pierced cock.

Is this a dream? It wouldn’t be the first time Leo has starred in my subconscious fantasies.

“Is this a sex playroom?” I blurt, pulling a little on my restraints, there’s a lot of give and I reposition my arms and shoulders to ease the ache. “Like a fifty-shades kind of thing?”

His eyes narrow, but I catch just a glimmer of surprise in his gaze. “Sex playroom,” he repeats.

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