Page 26 of Ruthless Bonds

My back slammed against a sturdy surface that smelled like delicious tobacco and leather. K’s arm wrapped around my stomach as he pinned my back to his front.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he said, a hint of fury in his voice.

I didn’t speak for a moment. It was like I’d forgotten how to form words. I hadn’t thought he would actually catch me leaving, and now that he had, my body froze in fear. He turned me around to face him, a knot of anxiety tightening in the pit of my stomach.

His eyes blazed with anger, and it was all directed at me.

Crap.

I might have really done it this time.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I…”

His chest was rising and falling with each deep breath he took. “You’re bleeding.” He didn’t sound concerned when he said it. He sounded downright accusing, like I was bleeding on purpose.

“Please don’t hurt me.” I could barely get the words out as he gripped me by the upper arms and examined the cut.

He muttered something in Russian, not bothering to translate this time. We moved toward the sink, and he lifted me up like I weighed nothing and set me on the edge.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he growled as he pulled open a drawer in the vanity. “Stay still.”

“Yes, sir.”

His body tensed for a moment. If he hadn’t been standing so close to me, I might have missed it. He stood between my legs and reached behind me to wet a handtowel in the sink. Blood was dripping down my arm, and he started to clean it up.

His face was a mix of anger and irritation. He was focused completely on the task at hand, being careful to clean up every drop. I sucked in a deep breath when he got to the cut, and he stilled for a moment.

“You foolish woman,” he muttered, then pulled the first-aid kit out of the open drawer.

Jumping out of a window to escape a man who you’d saved from an assassin, and then let ply you with alcohol, did seem a little foolish. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of responding.

God, he smelled good. I’d never really paid attention to the opposite sex. When you were solely focused on trying not to starve to death, you didn’t really have much time for dating. Anyway, most men were liars and didn’t deserve my attention.

But he wasn’t just any man. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he had my full attention. Especially now, as he pressed into my open thighs and focused on bandaging up my cut arm.

Up close, I could see a scar going across his chin, starting below his lip and running down his neck. I wondered how many other scars he had. Was his body covered in them? Before I could stop myself, I lifted my hand and traced my finger slowly down the jagged mark.

He froze immediately, his eyes burning into me. But I was too much of a chicken to hold his gaze. I continued exploring, trailing my finger over his full bottom lip, then his top lip, then back down to his scar. He inhaled sharply and gripped my hand, making me gasp.

This time, I held his gaze. Even though I had no idea what I was doing, and risked making a fool out of myself, I knew I wanted him. It wasn’t like I was holding onto my virginity for marriage. And hell, this had been the craziest night of my life, so why not go out with a bang? Literally.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips softly to his. He didn’t kiss me back, though. Humiliation flooded my veins at the realization. God, I was so stupid. Why would I think someone like him would want me?

Heat rose from my neck to my cheeks, and I lowered my head. “Sorry, I thought—”

I gasped as his fingers weaved through my hair and tugged my head back.

“You tried to run from me.” His grip in my hair tightened, controlled yet still gentle. There was a hint of accusation in his tone that made my breath catch. It shouldn’t have mattered. We were strangers. Although something told me neither of us would be forgetting what had happened this evening.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, surprising myself because I meant it. Every instinct in my body screamed for me to run away from him. He was more than just dangerous, he was lethal.

But something else, something much stronger, wanted me to stay. To find out what would happen if I did.

“Tell me to let you go,” he murmured, his eyes tracking the movement as my tongue darted out to wet my lips. “I’m not a good man,kotic. Tell me to stop.” This time there was a command in his tone, and I could envision even the bravest of men wanting to cower at his feet.

“No.” I held his gaze. My mind was made up.

My life had always been chaotic. Too many responsibilities and sacrifices. Too much putting everyone else first, too much getting pushed around and torn down. But I stood back up each and every time because that was who I was. A fighter.

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