Page 35 of Savage Reign

A better man would wait until morning, but I’ve never claimed to be a good man.

Her room is dark except for the moonlight spilling through the curtains. Sofiya is a vision when she sleeps, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her plush lips slightly parted, begging for my cock to slide between them.

I drag a chair from the corner and sit, the quiet of the night pressing in around me as I watch her. My eyes follow the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, her features relaxed, her brow smooth, like she’s finally found some peace in sleep. She looks so damn serene, untouched by the chaos I’ve pulled her into.

I should feel guilt for what I’ve done, and for what I’m about to do, but guilt isn’t in my nature.

Instead, a dark satisfaction and a possessive thrill pulse through me, knowing she’s mine now. Sergey wanted her as his bride, but that bastard is rotting in the ground while she lives in my house, soon to wear my ring. I hope he’s watching from whatever pit of hell he landed in, confronted with everything he lost.

I rise and lean over her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek before my hand finds her shoulder, and I give it a small shake. “Wake up, Sofiya.”

Her eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep. But the moment she registers me standing so close, she bolts upright, dragging the blanket underneath her chin. “What’s going on?” she gasps. “Why are you in my room?”

“Technically, every room in this house is mine. So, really, you’re in my room.”

I flick on the reading lamp on the bedside table, warm light flooding the space, and give her eyes a moment to adjust.

She blinks rapidly, glancing at the clock beside her before releasing a growl of irritation. “It’s the middle of the night, Nikolai. What do you want?”

The wariness in her voice unsettles me. “Relax. I’m not here to hurt you,” I say, my fingers grazing her cheek. “But you’re the pakhan’s wife, and it’s time everyone knows it.”

Her brows draw together. “You know as well as I do that this marriage is only temporary. Once Roman makes you a deal?—”

I cut her off, tracing the curve of her jaw with my thumb. “Roman needs to be reminded that I’m not a man to play with.”

She swallows hard, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Everything.” The word lands heavy between us. “Now, get up. You’re coming to my office.”

She shakes her head and burrows further under the covers. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Then I’ll carry you.”

“Don’t you fucking da?—”

Her protest dies as I rip the covers off and haul her over my shoulder. She kicks and pounds at my back, but it’s no use. My hand grips her perfect ass firmly to hold her in place.

She’s wearing more of Eva’s clothes—barely-there sleep shorts with a flimsy tank top, and my cock twitches at the sight, threatening to derail my focus. I force down the primal urge to throw her on the bed and claim her, and I keep walking.

“I can’t believe you,” she hisses, fists hammering uselessly against my back. “This is humiliating! Put me down!”

“I warned you,” I remind her calmly, a small smile playing on my lips. Even at a time like this, I enjoy her fire.

Inside my office, I lower her onto the suede couch and lock the door behind me, just in case she gets the brilliant idea to make a run for it.

Sofiya wraps her arms around herself, glaring at me with venom in her eyes. “Stop playing games and tell me what this is about.”

Instead of answering, I unlock my desk drawer and pull out what I need. “You have a choice to make, Sofiya.”

Unease flickers in her eyes as she scans the room. “What choice?”

I sit beside her on the couch, laying the items on the coffee table between us. Her gaze shifts nervously between me and the box. “What is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I snap open the jewelry box, revealing a princess-cut ruby ring set on a platinum band, surrounded by a halo of diamonds that shimmer like fire. “Will you wear my ring, Sofiya Zhukova?”

Her eyes widen at the sound of my surname, twisted into its feminine form. Before I’ve even explained the alternative, she’s already shaking her head.

“You’re sure?” I ask, my voice dropping as I bring my lips inches from hers.

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