Page 39 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

The words are ripped out of my mouth as he makes good on his promise and lifts me into his arms. He strides back to the vehicle and plops me into the passenger’s seat, right on top of my torn panties, then straps me in like a child.

I’d climb back out of the car and run for it if I wasn’t so cold. My teeth are chattering. Without the anger and heartbreak to heat me from the inside, I’m borderline hypothermic.

Aleks gets behind the wheel, slams his door, and starts the engine. We pull out. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, close them, and shudder as the cold wracks me all the way down to the core.

“Wake me up when you’re gone from my life,” I mutter.

Aleks doesn’t say a word.

* * *

When we come to a stop, I glance outward reluctantly. I’m expecting to see the heights of The Imperial. But this is anything but that.

We’re parked in front of a quaint little house with a lush garden and a deep front porch. The rain has vanished and a few fragile sunbeams poke through the gray morass of clouds above.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Wait until I come around for you,” he replies, ignoring my question.

He walks over and opens my door. Before I can unbuckle myself, he’s already done it. I protest as he scoops me back into his arms.

“I can walk,” I snarl, but again, it’s like he can’t even hear me.

I’m assuming he’ll set me down once we’re inside, but he doesn’t. He keeps walking. We pass through a bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom.

“You’re not very good at listening, so I figured I’d help,” he murmurs, finally setting me on my feet. “Now, take off your dress.”

“Excuse me?”

“The dress,” he says, gesturing towards my body. “Remove it.”

“If you think I’m going to have sex with you again—”

“Oh, grow up,” he spits. “I want you to get in the tub and take a hot shower.”

“I… what?”

“You need to take a hot shower. I don’t want you catching cold.”

Of all the things I thought he would say, that was definitely not one of them. “You don’t want me catching cold?”

“Why are you repeating everything I’m saying?”

I scowl and start to peel off my wet clothes. “Are you going to stand there and watch?”

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly modest. Fifteen minutes ago, you were begging me to fuck you harder.”

I flush self-consciously, but I decide not to fight him. He’s not wrong. Maybe I’m the crazy one.

The dress is wet and sticking to my skin. Taking it off feels like trying to slide out of my skin. I struggle for a few seconds before Aleks steps up.

“Here,” he rasps softly. “Let me.”

He walks behind me and takes over. The buttons fall apart easily under his capable fingers. When he pushes the dress down around my hips, I shiver again.

But this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

He keeps his eyes on my face as he gestures for me to step into the shower. “Go on.”

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