Page 67 of Wicked Beauty

I barely register his face. The sight of him holding her, his hands roving over her body, drives me fucking insane. My hand shakes on the gun, a violent certainty filling me that a bullet is no longer enough. I want to tear him to shreds.

“You are a pretty thing,” I hear him growl under his breath as he starts to retreat with her. “I was told I couldn’t fuck you, but I might enjoy a good inspection of the goods all the same.”

Natalia lets out a shriek, twisting in his arms as she kicks and claws. I can’t shoot him any longer without risking her, but I don’t care. His gun is still on the grass, and I barrel towards him, hands itching with the need to pummel him to a bloody pulp.

The man tries to avoid me as I catch up to them, darting to one side, but Natalia is squirming too much for him to be able to pay attention to me as well as he should and hang onto her at the same time. I crash into him, sweeping his leg out from under him as Natalia flies to one side, hitting the ground with a thud as I follow him down to the ground.

I see her out of the corner of my eye, pushing herself up as she looks at the face of the man who has been terrifying her, tormenting her,followingher, and then I lose all sense of anything other than the man’s flesh under my hands, and my desire to destroy him.

My fist connects with his face, once, twice, again and again. I feel the meat and bone of it give way, teeth knocking loose, the crunch of his nose as I break it. I keep beating him long after his face is no longer recognizable, long after he’s stopped gurgling on his own blood.

“He’s dead,” I hear Natalia saying breathlessly. “Mikhail, he’s dead–” Her hand touches my arm, grabbing me, trying to pull me away.

I can’t think. I can barely breathe. The only thought going through my head is whether or not Natalia is alright, if that fucker touched her, hurt her in in any way. I swing towards her, seeing the terrified expression on her face, and something inside of me snaps.

I lunge for her, and she lets out a cry of fear, but I’m beyond caring. I sweep her up into my arms, clutching her tightly as I stride into the house and up the stairs, not caring about the remains of the man’s body on the side of my lawn.

No one will come here. No one will see. It’s why I’d stayed here, after all, and now more than ever, all I care about is getting her inside. My heart is pounding in my chest, and over the rage at the idea that this man dared to come after her, over the possessive fury raging inside of me, wishing I could kill him all over again, is the desperate feeling that I need to make sure she’s alright.

The cab never arrived, or it left before I came outside.I’ll deal with Ruby later.All I can think about is Natalia.

Tears are streaming down her face as I set her down, running my bloody hands over her body as I look at her frantically. “Are you hurt?” I demand. “Did a bullet hit you when his gun went off?” My hands clutch her upper arms, leaving bloody handprints behind as I shake her. “Answer me!”

Dimly, somewhere in the back of my head, I know that she’s probably in shock. That she likelycan’tanswer me. But I can’t think past the idea that she could be injured in some way, that something could have hurt her.

“I’m fine,” she gasps. “None of the blood is mine. It’s all from him, from what you–”

She doesn’t flinch or cry out in pain as I run my hands over her. “You’re sure?” I ask, reaching to cup her face in my hands, ignoring the streaks of blood that my thumbs leave as I run them over her cheeks. “You’re sure nothing is hurt? You’re alright?”

Natalia laughs shakily. “It seems like you actually care,” she manages, her voice cracking a little, and I thread my fingers into her hair, everything else disappearing in the face of how close I came to losing her from a threat that had nothing to do with me–a threat that we might never actually know the real reason for. “You saved me,” she whispers. “I know it’s because you want to take me to Viktor, but still–you saved me, and Ruby–”

I step towards her, pressing her back against the door as I tilt her head up towards mine, my hands still clutching her jaw as I look down into her lovely, delicate face, beautiful even with the blood streaking it from my fingers.

“I told you,” I whisper hoarsely. “You’remine.”

And then, as she stares up at me, I crush my mouth to hers.

I can’t help it. I want her with a ferocity that outstrips anything I’ve felt before, even for her, a clinging, grasping need that renders me helpless faced with how close we came to disaster, with the very real heat of her body against me, her face looking up at me with a softness that I’ve never seen from her before.

I forget that she hates me and that I’m meant to hate her. I forget that I’m supposed to deliver her for the absolution I want from Viktor, that the Syndicate still expects things of me, that none of this is over yet. I forget everything except how much I need her, how far she’s gotten under my skin, how the woman standing in front of me is nothing like the woman I thought she was, and how I can’t reconcile that no matter how I try.

I expect her to fight. I expect her to twist away, to try to slap me, claw me, to fight me with all the spark and fervor that I’m used to from her. But instead, I feel her gasp, her mouth opening under mine as her hands come up to grip my shoulders, and as I surge against her, riding the wave of need, I feel her arch against me and I know she feels it too.

The desperate, clawing need to remember that we’re alive, that we overcame what wanted to destroy us, and that there’s something left to make us feel the things we need to feel.

Her tongue slides into my mouth, tangling with mine, kissing me back with the same fervor. Her hands slide up the back of my neck, sliding into my hair, nails scratching along my flesh, and it drives me wild.

I’m so hard it hurts. The adrenaline rush of the fight, the victory, the knowledge that she’s still mine, rushes through my veins until I feel as if I could explode with it, with the need to reclaim her, to make her mine all over again, and her willingness only makes it that much stronger.

“Mikhail.” She breathes my name against my lips, the first time I’ve ever heard her say it like that, and I think she’s as drunk on it as I am.

My hands drag down her body, pushing up the black silk of her dress over her hips. I’m drenched in blood, and it’s all over her now too, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her skin is flushed and hot as I touch her, and she gasps as I drag my mouth down her throat, teeth sinking in against her collarbone as I make my way down her body, clutching her hips as I fall to my knees in front of her. My teeth catch on the edge of her panties, yanking the fabric down as I press my mouth hungrily between her thighs, the sweet scent and taste of her filling my senses.

I feel her hand in my hair, on my head, pressing me against her as my tongue slides between her folds, desperate for her. The taste of her drives me wild, my cock throbbing as I devour her, wanting to feel her come on my tongue.

She cries out, her moans filling the air as I drive her towards a climax, lashing my tongue over her clit, sucking it into my mouth. Her hips grind against my face as I feel her give into it, faster than she ever has before, her body begging for everything I can give it.

Iwantto give it to her. I’ve forgotten everything except how much I want her, the lust pounding through me like a second heartbeat, theneed. I groan against her soft heated flesh, feeling her nails dig into my scalp, and I know she’s on the very edge, ready to come apart.

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