Page 81 of Untamed

Our ride waits, idling at the curb. Rafail pulled through. I’ll be driving this one though.

I reach for her bags. All she needs is a head shake and a grunt before she lets me take them.

As I load her bags into the SUV’s trunk, I feel her gaze on me like a brand. I glance over my shoulder, and there she is, arms crossed, those sharp green eyes tracking my every move. She’s doing that thing again—biting her lip like she’s about to say something snarky, but she hasn’t decided if it’s worth the trouble.

“What?” I snap, slamming the trunk shut.

She raises an eyebrow, all mock innocence. “Nothing. Just marveling at how a guy like you goes from mafia muscle to luggage handler in under five minutes.”

I stalk toward her, ignoring the smartass smile tugging at her lips. I don’t stop until I’m towering over her, forcing her to tip her head back to meet my eyes. “You got a problem with that,kitten?” My voice drops low, rough like gravel, just the way I know makes her squirm. I can’t wait to get her alone again.

Her smirk doesn’t waver. “Not at all. Watching you haul my stuff around like a pack mule? It’s kinda hot, actually.”

She thinks she’s cute. She’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let her win. My hand shoots out, gripping her chin—not hard, just enough to make her breath hitch. “Keep running that mouth, and I’ll show you hot.”

Her pupils dilate, and her breath stutters, but then she snaps back, leaning into my touch with a wicked grin. “Promises, promises.”

This woman. She’s going to kill me.

Ember stares out the window, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, but I don’t miss the way her thighs press together when my hand brushes against hers on the console.

I let the silence stretch. I know her. She won’t stay quiet for long.

“So…” Her voice breaks the stillness, light and teasing. “Competency porn. Big fan of the genre?”

I smirk, keeping my eyes on the road. “You said the word porn, little queen. Didn’t hear anything else after that.”

She laughs, soft and throaty, and I swear it goes straight to my cock. “Of course you didn’t.”

Before I can fire back, she turns to me, her tone shifting. “Seriously, though. What’s the deal with this gala? You’re acting like it’s some big mafia Oscars or something.”

“It’s not about the gala,” I say, my voice cooling. “It’s about who’s going to be there. My family. My enemies. The people who think they own me.”

Her eyes narrow, and I can tell she’s turning that over in her head, dissecting every word. “And what happens when they find out about me?”

I glance at her, my jaw tightening. “You let me worry about that.”

“That’s not an answer,” she snaps, her voice tight with frustration.

“It’s the only one you’re getting.” My voice is steel now, sharper than I mean it to be. “I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

She doesn’t flinch, but I see her fingers tighten around the hem of her shirt. “You think you can just decide that? You can’t control everything, Rodion.”

“Watch me.”

I whip the car to the side of the road, throwing it into park so fast the tires screech. The silence that follows is deafening. Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide, but I’m already leaning over the console, caging her in with one hand braced on the door and the other gripping her thigh.

“Let me make something clear,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “I don’t give a fuck what it takes. I’ll burn down the whole Bratva if it means keeping you safe. And as for you—” My fingers tighten just slightly on her thigh, drawing a gasp from her lips. “You’re mine, Ember. You’ve been mine since the moment I saw you. So go ahead. Fight me. Push back. Tell me you don’t need me. But don’t think for one goddamn second I’ll let you go.”

Her breath comes fast now, her chest rising and falling as she stares at me like she’s torn between slapping me and pulling me closer. “You’re insane,” she whispers, but there’s no heat in it. Just something raw, something needy.

I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. “You like it.”

She shoves me back—not hard, but enough to show me she’s still in this fight. Her smirk is back, razor-sharp. “Drive the damn car, Bratva boy.”

I grip her hard to remind her she’ll pay for that.

As we drive, she seems like she’s holding something back, but it’s a short trip, and I don’t want to pry.

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