Page 57 of Unhinged

It’s dark, but for some reason, bright lights illuminate one corner of the room. Are those… fairy lights? In Matvei’s room?

But as we draw nearer, I see. I shake my head and huff out a laugh.

“Aw. Just like old time’s sake.”

“Just like old time’s sake,” he repeats as he kicks open the cage he first used to capture me and lays me on a soft, thick mattress. “Sleep well, little ghost.”

The metal door clicks with an audible snap. The lock is the last thing I hear before I close my eyes to sleep.

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Chapter12

MATVEI

I don’t sleep well.

I set up the fucking cage for a reason, but now that she’s in it, her light, waffling snores indicate she’s out—and I want her next to me.

And I’m hard as a fucking rock. After tossing and turning, I get up and rub one off in the shower because I can’t fucking sleep when I’m hard as fuck. It doesn’t bring the relief I’m craving. I don’t want my hand when her hot, tight cunt isright there.

In my room.

So I sleep fitfully until the morning light streams through the window, and I finally give up. I look over the edge of the bed and see her beautiful, sweet body splayed out on her back, the blanket askew. Sunrise kisses her bare legs.

I want to touch them.

I watch her, waiting to see if she’ll wake up afraid. But instead, she rolls over and stretches, her fingers brushing the cold metal above her head.

Her eyes meet mine.

“Morning,solnyshka.” Always taunting.

I growl at her. “Morning.”

She watches me as if waiting to pounce. Something’s shifted between us.

I push myself out of bed and unlock the cage.

“I knew if I looked pathetic enough, you’d come back and unlock it,” she says, pushing up on her elbow. “Pity you’re far too big to get in here with me. It’s so warm and cozy.” She presses her hand against the mattress. “Memory foam?”

This woman.

I try to remind myself this isn’t about her but about me. About loyalty. Making her suffer.

Then why do I have to stop myself from hurting her? Why do I crave seeing her eyes light up? Why do I love that little smirk on her face?

And why can’t I shake the feeling that she’s playing the long game? Gaining my trust. Manipulating me?

I can’t trust the little brat.

She doesn’t immediately jump out of the cage, and that… throws me.

Instead, shestretches,slow and sinuous, like a cat waking in the sun. Her arms reach high above her head, back arching just enough to make my sex-starved, sleep-deprived brain take note. My gaze drags along every curve and valley, the creamy softness of her peach-colored skin, the elegant curve of her neck still marked with my bites, though they’ve faded to dusky pink. Her hair, the natural white-blonde, fanned over her pillow like sunrise.

God, I love the way she’s comfortable in her body, even knowing she’s made enemies everywhere she turns.

I should yank her out by her ankles, drag her to her feet, and make her rememberexactlywho owns her now. I try to remind myself why I hunted her, what she did, and remind myself that she’s dangerous as fuck and can’t be trusted.

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