Page 29 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

The strands of my hair fall in large, loose curls down my back, and Mason wraps them around his hand, yanking sharply. “But the worst thing you did was get knocked up by someone else. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Who was it that got to taste your sweet little pussy?”

Mason jerks my head back, and my scalp feels like it is on fire. My head is throbbing as if each strand of hair is being plucked from my skull, but I refuse to cry or beg. I can’t give him the fucking satisfaction. Instead, I keep my mouth shut, and I grunt, jerking against him as if I want him to pull harder.

I speak through gritted teeth, “None of your goddamn business.”

He yanks me down to the ground with a brutal force, pinning me beneath him. His face contorts into a starving animal, his obsidian eyes glinting with a manic hunger that makes my blood cold. A small whimper leaves my lips, and his coal eyes brighten as if he has found his next meal in me. His voice comes out like a spider’s caress along my skin, and my neck stretches to escape the delight on his face.

“You know I always loved it when you put up a fight, G; it always made breaking you so much better.”

My body freezes as he licks up my face from chin to temple and moans at the taste of my sweat on his tongue.

“Now, tell me who I have to kill for tasting you first, for ruining my preciouspretty girl.”

My ears are ringing, my breathing is coming out in harsh, sharp gusts, and I feel like, for the first time, I may experience what other humans do. I may not be able to break him down because he is threatening Nikolai. Mason would never kill a kid, but he would make me watch as the first man who ever made me feel like my skin was electric died, and then Mason would want to fuck me next to his corpse. I could never do that. Something within me crumbles, and I growl, flattening my hands against Mason’s chest and pushing. He doesn’t move.

Instead, he chuckles, “Oh, you’d rather have me go to Mia’s room? I would hate to kill my daughter, but we can always make another.”

I freeze, my eyes widen. “Mason, you wouldn’t dare.”

His face contorts into a snarl, and he knocks against mine. “You want to bet?”

I fall into the black hole of his eyes and find no humor or fear, and then I realize I’ve been lying to myself. Mason would kill my kids, but I stare, voice gritty as I growl, “You lay a finger on her, and I will bathe myself in your blood. I will kill you so slowly that you beg for death.”

Mason’s laugh is boisterous and light, as if he did not just threaten my babies, and he rips my hands off his chest and presses them into the rug above my head, locked together.

“Oh, there she is.” He searches my face with a grand smile. “My little psycho.”

“I am not yours,” I whisper, but Mason just smiles, nuzzling his nose against my neck, and for the first time, I can feel a bulge against my thigh growing.

“Oh, butyou always have, and always will, pretty girl. You will always be my little psycho, but it’s not like you have a choice anymore,” he coos, and my body becomes so stiff I feel like I can’t move.

“What do you mean I don’t have a choice?”

“I gave you six years to pay off this debt, and you still owe me one hundred and ninety five thousand dollars,” he whispers as his nose trails my neck to his ear. “It’s a bad look for me to have such an outstanding balance.”

“Then go find my fucking father and kill him,” I growl, but he clicks his tongue at me.

“I don’t want your father, pretty girl,” he purrs. “I want you.”

“You can’t have me,” I say with hardened eyes and my voice a deep rasp I have never had before this moment.

“You need to learn how to play your cards right because I have a royal flush right now, and your hand is bad.” He laughs. “You see, either you get me my money by morning, or you become my little mistress, and if you fight me on this, I will take little Mia in there and sell her to the highest bidder.” My body becomes ice cold, my mouth dry, and I stop breathing, but Mason continues with a humorous smile, “And then you hate me and still have to be mine.”

“You have to give me more than a night, Mason,” I whimper, the tears in the back of my throat vibrating with the need to run down my face. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he inhales me again, “48 hours.”

“Not enough time,” I say, locking eyes with his empty abyss.

“Make it enough,” he snarls, his grip on my wrist tightening to a crushing level that sends shockwaves of pain through my entire body. I grit my teeth and refuse to let out a single cry, knowing it will only fuel his rage.

The front door slams with a deafening force, and Nana’s heels clicking against the hardwood floor fills me with relief. My eyes squeeze shut as I struggle to catch my breath as the sound of her rustling through her purse gets louder. When she rounds the corner, all the sound she is making stops, and I can feel her heavy gaze on Mason on top of me.

He doesn’t flinch or even try to move; instead, he makes that boyish smile of his as he stares at me head-on and says, “Hi, Miss Rose.”

“Boy,” she greets, walking forward and placing her bag on the end table closest to her. “Get up off my granddaughter.”

Mason laughs into a scoff as he rolls his eyes. It is as if we are teenagers again, and she just walked in on us making out when he was about to get to second base.

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