Page 36 of Savage Reign

Her eyes narrow with spite. “I’m damn sure I’ll never wear your ring.”

“In that case…” I reach for the cloth, pulling it away to reveal what’s beneath. Her eyes lower to the device in my hand. She blinks, her brow furrowing as confusion flickers across her face.

“What is that?”

I hold it up for her to see. “A tattoo machine.”

Her voice is quieter now, more cautious. “What are you planning to do with that?”

I capture her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. “If you won’t wear my ring, I’ll tattoo one onto your finger. It’s your choice, Sofiya. But one way or another, no one will question who you belong to.”

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

SOFIYA

After daysof not seeing or hearing from Nikolai, he storms into my room in the middle of the night, throws me over his shoulder like some barbarian, and carries me down to his office. Then he gives me an impossible choice: wear his wedding ring or let him tattoo my finger.

He can’t be serious, can he?

But the way his eyes blaze into mine, and the tattoo machine in his hand, tell me he is.

A cold wave of panic crashes over me. If he thinks I’ll let him tattoo me, he’s out of his damn mind.

On instinct, I run. My hands fly to the door, shaking as I twist the knob and tug, but it doesn’t budge. It’s locked, and no matter how I twist or pull, it won’t open.

Behind me, his footsteps are slow and deliberate. “Where do you think you’re going, wife?”

I whip around, hands planted on my hips. “Get away from me!”

His head tilts, a dangerous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t do that, but I’m giving you a choice. If you don’t like the idea of a tattoo, there’s a half-million-dollar rock that many women would kill to wear.”

“It’s not the ring!” My voice rises, frustration spilling over. “It’s what it represents. That I’m yours… and I will never be yours.” I pause, shaking my head. “You can’t force this on me. I’m not your wife. Not really. I don’t care what the bullshit marriage contract says.”

He shrugs, and the casualness of it sets my blood boiling. His indifference is a slap in the face. While he’s been away on business, I’ve been here, wandering the halls like a ghost. Three days with nothing but time on my hands. Time to feel the weight of how nothing ever goes right for me. To know that no matter how hard I try, things always end up in ruins. And this time, I’ve managed to pull my friends and family down with me.

I wish I could roll back time to undo everything, but I can’t, and I’ll have to wear that shame forever. I’ve searched this entire house for a way out—a phone, a computer, anything to communicate with the outside world—but there’s no sign of where we are, and I’m no closer to finding a way to escape.

And in the quiet moments, when my anger isn’t enough to drown everything else out, my mind drifts to Nikolai and the maddening way he makes me feel. Like my body has a mind of its own.

My frustration boils over, and I grab a stack of files from the desk and fling them at him. Papers scatter in the air like snowflakes. He steps aside easily, his posture relaxed as they float to the floor.

“I see. This is how you want to play.”

Nikolai’s steps are steady and measured as he stalks toward me. I know there’s no way out, but I scramble around his desk anyway, grabbing anything I can find. My hand closes on a stapler, and I fling it at his head. He swats it away with barely any effort.

This is so not good.

My fingers curl around a large book on the corner of his desk, my last hope, and I swing it at him as hard as I can. His hand shoots out, catching my wrist mid-swing. His grip is like iron, unyielding, as he pries the book from my grasp and tosses it to the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground echoes in the tense silence.

In two strides, he’s on me, his arms wrapping around me as he throws me down onto the couch. His fingers press into my jaw, tilting my head up so I can’t look anywhere but at him. His face is so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like that my wife is fierce, but you pull this shit again, and you’ll see a side of me you won’t like. Am I clear?”

“I’ve only ever seen a side of you I don’t like,” I fire back, my voice sharp despite the hammering of my heart.

“Oh, moya sladost, your hate only turns me on more.” His words shouldn’t have this effect on me, but my pussy clenches with need, and a blush burns its way up my neck.

His smirk deepens, his hooded eyes dragging over my face, lingering on my lips before dropping lower to the rise and fall of my chest. My nipples tighten beneath the flimsy sleep tank, and when his gaze lifts again, it’s lit with a spark of satisfaction.

---