Page 69 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

OLIVIA

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Aleks just sucked wine off my fingers in the strangest, hottest display of tenderness and ownership I’ve ever seen. I’m still trembling head to toe from the after-effects of the intimate gesture.

But he’s looking at me like we’re not quite finished here.

My mistake since the moment we met has always been looking directly into his eyes. That’s my weakness, my undoing, every single time. It’s what landed me in this mess.

So I try to avoid it now. I stop myself from doing more than glancing, although I still catch a glimpse of blue with slices of green around the iris before I change course.

Danger. That’s what those eyes tell me.

They aren’t lying.

“I don’t want to be part of your world,” I snap defensively. “Don’t want to be part of your life.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you care? Don’t you have other women waiting eagerly at your beck and call?”

“More than you could possibly imagine.”

“Great. Then go beck-and-call one of them. I’ll happily slip away and you’ll never see me again.”

He just smirks, that same arrogant, infuriating smirk that draws and repels me at the same time. God, he’s a frustrating enigma.

I take a deep breath and try to remind myself of Yulia’s advice. I need to earn his respect. But the task is daunting. Impossible.

I push aside my reservations and focus on him. I don’t look at his face because I know that will only inhibit the process, so I concentrate on his shoulders.

His broad, muscular, infinite shoulders. I can’t help looking at him and feeling weak in comparison. Fragile, whereas he is so solid and undeniable.

The top three buttons of his shirt have been left open. I can see his collarbones, smoothing out into the tattooed planes of his chest.

He gives me a knowing smile. “Something wrong, Olivia?” he asks. “You look a little lost.”

“I… I…”

That’s when I do it—I make the mistake of looking at him.

And just like that, I’m lost.

His eyes are indisputably beautiful, but the fire that burns there gives them a feral kind of quality. It takes the beauty and twists it into something more. Something different. A severity that exudes power.

And so I find myself saying words I shouldn’t even be thinking.

“I don’t know what to do now. You’ve ruined me.”

He nods, unsurprised. “My advice? Stop thinking about my opinion of you. Just concentrate on yourself. Your desires. Feel it authentically, truly, from deep in your soul. Convince yourself that what you want will want you in return—all you have to do is send that desire radiating outward. So answer one question for me, kiska… what do you want to do now?”

My lips feel numb. “I want…”

My hand curls around the opening of his shirt. I lean in and press my lips against his. Aleks wraps his arms around me, holding me against him.

But he isn’t kissing me back. Not really.

He’s waiting to see how far I’ll take this on my own.

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