Page 20 of Born in Depravity

His biceps flexed from confinement in his short-sleeved black T-shirt, showcasing strong, powerful arms. My eyes traced the veins that popped out from the tan skin of his forearms, a strange feeling taking hold low in my belly.

He was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful men that I had ever seen, in real life or on television, and that was saying something considering I spent the majority of my life watching TV, wishing, hoping I could be one of those normal girls whose biggest problem was deciding what dress to wear to prom.

But this wasn’t TV. This was real life and this man was looking at me with an intensity I wasn’t sure I wanted to figure out. This man was looking at me like he knew me.

I tried to swallow but there was something lodged in my throat as I took in every single one of his perfect features. My lips felt parched all of a sudden.

I licked around the dry skin, tasting a slight salty flavor.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I had something to drink. It seemed the dehydration was getting to me. How else could I explain this delusion of such a perfect man?

And that was what he was.

A figment of my imagination.

No one could possibly be this perfect.

The man’s eyes shifted with some unknown emotion. He reached out a hand to steady me when it felt like I was swaying a bit.

“Careful, princess. We don’t want you to fall, do we?”

He spoke with a slight accent. Something European.

German, or perhaps Russian.

I didn’t get to interact with many Russian people. Father didn’t like them. Or more specifically, he didn’t like the “Bratva bastards.”

I could feel my breathing increase the more he held onto me.

I might not have interacted with many Russians, but I’d met enough of my fair share of bad, dangerous men to tell this beautiful man was dangerous.

And I…

I didn’t know what my reaction was to this beautiful, strange, and dangerous man in front of me.

Something foreign.

Something I had never felt before.

I could feel my cheeks heating from the intensity of his gaze on me, could feel my breathing growing more labored, the oxygen somehow feeling like it was dissipating in the small space surrounding us, and my heart was beating about a million miles an hour.

I wiped my sweaty palms on the sides of my legs.

His eyes aimed at the boy behind me, and something hardened in them. He offered a sardonic smile, and though it wasn’t directed at me, a slight shiver still worked its way up my spine.

I tried to back away from him, but his grip stayed firm, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t escape unless he let me.

I sucked in a broken breath of air. This couldn’t be happening.

I just escaped one monster. Surely, I couldn’t possibly find trouble so soon?

“I believe themalen’kaya kuklais trying to pay for her gas and… candy.”

Malen’kaya kukla?What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He was definitely Russian.

The man’s eyes moved down to the bright package I gripped tightly in my hand. I relaxed a little, and the man’s smile widened just marginally, like he found something amusing.

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