Page 42 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

"I don't know what to believe anymore," I muttered, my voice rough. "You've lied to me too many times, Lily."

Her shoulders shook slightly, but she didn't respond. She didn't try to defend herself.

I took another step forward, my hand brushing against her shoulder. She flinched, but she didn't pull away. And for the first time since all of this began, I felt like dropping the anger, just releasing it.

I couldn't trust her. But I still wanted her.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice low, rough.

Slowly, she turned, her eyes wide and filled with guilt, fear, and something else—something that mirrored what I felt inside.

I wanted to punish her. I wanted to make her pay for what she'd done. But more than that, I wanted her to feel what I was feeling. I wanted her to know that she wasn't the only one who was breaking.

"You're not forgiven," I growled. "You're still a traitor. But you're my traitor. My toy now. For me to do with as I please."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared up at me, her lips trembling, but she didn't say a word. She didn't have to.

Because she knew I meant every word.

CHAPTER 15

Lily

The mansion was eerily quiet after the chaos of the ambush, but my heart still raced like we were under attack. The adrenaline hadn't left my system, and the weight of everything—Nikita's fury, the danger that had surrounded us—pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe.

I listened from the bedroom as he moved through the estate, checking the perimeter for any lingering threats. I caught a glimpse of him outside through the window. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, and even though the worst of the violence was over, there was something even more dangerous in the air now. The fight hadn't broken him, but I could tell it had shaken something loose inside him—something raw and dark.

And I couldn't stop thinking about how close I had come to losing him.

The cold, ruthless Nikita Volkov who had stormed into my life with his demands and fury… and the man who, despite it all, had protected me. Maybe we could possibly move on from this.If he really hated me for betraying him, if he really believed I didn't love him, would he have protected me?

When he finally returned to the room, his steps were heavy, his face hardened with the tension of the night. But there was something different in his eyes when he looked at me. Something that made my breath hitch in my throat. The distance between us, the anger, the betrayal—it was still there, like a shadow lurking in the background. But now, there was something else.

Desire.

I stood up slowly, feeling the pull between us as strongly as ever, and it terrified me. Throughout the interrogation, the growing fear that I would lose him forever made me sick to my stomach. I was starting to feel like I couldn't live without him, that I'd do anything for his forgiveness.

"Nikita…" I began, but the words died on my lips when I saw the way he was looking at me.

"Don't," he growled, his voice low, rough. "Don't say anything."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. There was an intensity in his gaze that sent a shiver down my spine, and before I could stop myself, I took a step back, my back hitting the wall behind me.

He was on me in an instant, his hands braced on either side of me, caging me in. The heat from his body, the dark look in his eyes—it was too much. I could barely breathe.

"You're not forgiven," he whispered, his voice thick with the anger still simmering beneath the surface. "You're still a traitor. My traitor. But tonight…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. I knew what he wanted. I could feel it in the way his body pressedagainst mine, in the way his breath hitched as his eyes raked over me.

I wanted it too. Badly.

"Nikita…" I whispered again, but it came out with thick longing.

He didn't give me a chance to finish. His lips crashed into mine, and I felt the tension between us ignite into something primal, something neither of us could control anymore. My hands found his shoulders, gripping tightly as he kissed me with a desperation that mirrored my own.

It was raw, it was angry, but it was real.

I kissed him back, the guilt swirling inside me momentarily forgotten as I gave in to the heat that burned between us. I was left only with the desire to please him, to show him that the love I had for him was real.

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