Page 99 of Bratva Butcher

I was almost on her.Almost there. Only a few more steps—

She spun, quick as fucking lightening, and shoved me up against the wall with a knife to my throat.

Fiery green eyes locked with mine, and I couldn’t help but smile as she whispered in a soft, silky voice, “Hello, Butcher.”

I traced every inch of her face, my eyes running over her soft smooth skin, her nose, those plump, rosy lips. Excitement soured within me.

Like myself, she was wearing a mask that only covered the top half of her face, hers black and lacy, the design beautifully intricate. It added a certain mysterious flair to her persona, her red hair a stunning contrast around it.

My smile morphed into a playful smirk. “Hello,malen’kaya d’yavolitsa, little devil.”

Her eyes narrowed. She pushed the blade deeper into my skin, and I had to suppress a groan as a slice of pain cut through me.

“Give meonegood reason why I shouldn’t just slit your throat right fucking now,” she growled low.

“As bloodthirsty as always, I see.” I tapped the blade I had pressed against her ribs in warning. She might be fast, but so was I.

Her gaze flicked down and back up again quickly. Challenge shone on her face.

“It’ll take me less than a second to drive this knife straight through your ribcage. You might get me, but I’lldefinitelyget you.” I leant closer, my lips mere inches from hers as I whispered, “Do you want to play, Autumn?”

Her body shifted even closer, pressing right up against mine. “Oh, I want to play.” Something dark flashed in her eyes. “I want to play with your head like it’s a goddamn soccer ball.”

Fuck, I’ve missed that fire.

I had no idea what the fuck had come over me. All I did know was all those emotions I’d been battling for the past few weeks were taking over, a dark, ravenous beast pushing its way to the surface, demanding not to let her slip through our grasp again.

But, as usual, when that beast tried to rise, I pushed it back into its cage with one thought.

Yekaterina.

And with that thought came the guilt. The anger. The despair. Guilt over thinking of another woman in a way that should only be reserved for my wife. Anger at Autumn for causing those unwanted feelings. And despair for realizing that I could never have her.

I shook off the lust burning in my veins and glared her down. “What are you doing here, anyway? I highly doubt you were invited.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked, affronted.

I shrugged lazily. The knife to my throat remained, but I wasn’t scared. Wasn’t worried she would kill me. The only thing that worried me was how excited I was thatshewas the one holding it there. “This is a pretty exclusive party,” I commented.

“And mynet worthisn’t high enough to receive an invitation?” she implied, referring back to something I’d said to her when we were trapped on Talon’s island.

“Ididn’t say that.” A smug smile tugged at my lips. “Youdid.”

She made an adorable, frustrated little growl that shot straight to my cock.

Cut it out! We hate her, remember?I mentally told the appendage, but the fucker didn’t listen to me, growing harderand harder the longer she glared at me like that. The longer she kept that damn knife pressed to my skin.

“I see you’re just as big of an asshole as I remember. Here I was thinking maybe it was the island that brought out that dickish personality of yours.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be wrong. And you still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here, woman?”

“I’d tell you, but it’s none of your goddamn business,” she hissed.

Our glaring battle continued. Could she feel it? All that tension just blazing between us, hot enough to set the air on fucking fire? She had to. It couldn’t just be one-sided.

Footsteps echoed from up the hallway. Autumn and I looked in the direction they came from and back at each other. We both scowled. At the same time, we put our weapons away, me tucking it back into the sheath at my waist and Autumn stepping back to put hers in the sheath strapped to the inside of her upper thigh.

I missed the feel of her body instantly.

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