Page 58 of Poisoned Vows

I blink at him. If we’re both going into the stand, does that mean I’m not the prey? “Are we hunting to—eat?” I blurt out, hoping against hope that this is where he allays my fears, and this all turns out to be a massive overreaction on my part. “I don’t like the idea of hunting for sport.” Especially if the sport is me.

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had opinions on it.”

The truth is, Ihadn’thad an opinion until a few minutes ago—not on hunting in general, anyway. I’d never had a reason to formulate one. But now I do—and I glare at Nikolai stubbornly, suddenly very certain of how I feel about it.

“Soft-hearted little rabbit.” He leans forward, pecking me on the nose with a kiss, and I flinch back. It’s an unexpectedly affectionate gesture, and I don’t know how I feel about it. “Yes, I planned on using anything we kill up here for food. Ever eaten fresh rabbit?” He grins at me, and I stare at him in horror for a brief second.

All I can think is that I was right. I was right about all of it. He married me because he saw me as innocent prey, dragged me into bed with him so he could feast on my unwilling-but-still-willing body, and then took me out into the middle of nowhere so he could finish off his prize. So the Bratva wolf could hunt his little rabbit.

You’re never supposed to run from a predator. Everyone knows that. If a dog or wolf or bear or mountain lion chases you, you’re supposed to play dead. Drop and pretend like it’s not happening. But there’s no playing dead when my hunter is a flesh-and-blood human man. And the fear is too much for me to control.

So I turn and run.

The snow flies up around my boots as I dart into the trees. The gun smacks against my shoulder as I run, and I shrug it off, letting it fall into the snow. I’m not going to have time to use it to defend myself. I barely understood how to use it to begin with. All I can think about now is trying to get far enough away to keep Nikolai from catching me. And if I can get out of the woods—

I don’t actually know where I’m going, though. I’m running in a blind panic, listening for the sound of footfalls behind me, waiting for the crack of a gun, the pain that will come after. Waiting for my wolf to catch me.

It’s hardly any time at all before I can hear him coming after me, calling my name. Lilliana, Lilliana. He shouts it, not that hated nickname, notkrolikor little rabbit, but my name. He sounds confused. Worried. But I can’t let it stop me. I’m more sure than ever that it’s just a ploy. A ruse. That if I stop, he’ll be on me, and either that will be the end, or just the beginning of whatever other fucked-up mind games he has planned for the hunt.

My calves are burning, and my lungs are tight with the need for air. I’ve never run like this, flat-out for this far, through snow and over uneven ground. I can feel my footsteps starting to falter, and I slip on rough trail, nearly falling before I catch myself again.

He’s closer. I’m sure of it. I hear him shout my name again, and I falter, a growing pain in my side intensifying. My feet catch on the rough ground again, and the toe of my boot slams against a snow-covered root, sending me pitching forward.

I sprawl in the snow, pain shooting up from where I catch myself with my hands, and I hear Nikolai behind me. I start to push myself up, my heart hammering in my chest, and I feel a strong hand suddenly grab my arm.

I flail in his grasp, twisting and thrashing, and it sends us both off-balance. We crash to the ground, Nikolai atop me, pressing me face-down into the snow, and I buck wildly underneath him, panicking.

Dimly, I realize he’s hard. I can feel him pressing against my ass through my jeans, rock-hard from my squirming against him—or because he’s aroused by the thought of what he’s going to do to me next.

“Get off of me!” I shriek. “Get away!”

“I will as soon as you tell me why you took off running.” Nikolai’s mouth is very close to my ear, his breath warm against it, and I hate the shudder that it sends through me. Nothing about this should turn me on. But his body is hard and hot and muscled against mine, his cock pressing against me, and I can imagine him taking me here in the snow, thrusting into me like the animal that I’ve imagined him to be.

That shouldn’t be something I want. What is wrong with me? Why does he make me think such awful, filthy things?

“Let me go!” I buck against him again, and he reaches out, pinning my wrists. That sends another hot jolt of arousal through me, and I kick at his shins, desperately trying to get out from under his weight. “I’m not going to be your fucking prey!”

Nikolai goes very still above me. His hands don’t let go of my wrists, but he stays silent and unmoving for several long seconds, and then I feel him start to shudder above me. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s laughing.

He pushes himself up, stepping back as he dusts himself off, looking at me with utter incredulity. “Lilliana—you’re not trying to say—goddamnit, you thought I brought you out here to hunt you?”

He’s looking at me as if I’ve grown two heads, and it infuriates me. God, he makes me so fucking angrysometimes thatI could kill him. He’s still laughing, his mouth twitching, and I glare at him from the other side of the space between us, shivering.

“Oh, like it’s such a leap!” I shout at him, feeling all that anger starting to unfurl in my belly again. “You call me little rabbit, you tease me about eating me, you take me out into the woods on a supposedly impromptu hunting trip—”

“It’s a hobby, Lilliana,” he says patiently. “People have those.”

“Not sociopathic organized criminals!” My voice is still echoing through the trees, but I don’t care. I’ve stopped caring.

“Is that what you think I am?”

“It is what you are! You—” I trail off, breathing hard, and he shakes his head as he looks at me.

“I can’t believe you thought I brought you out here to hunt you. That’s fucked up.” He’s still fucking laughing as he says it, and it makes me feel unhinged.

“That’s fucked up?” I lunge for him, shoving him hard in the chest—and as he stumbles back, I freeze, my stomach suddenly knotting.

I hadn’t thought about what I was doing. It had been an involuntary reaction to what I thought was a horrible joke—and not only should I probably not have struck Nikolai Vasilev, I’mmorehorrified that this feels…almost like an ordinary argument. Like the kind of stupid misunderstanding a married couple has. Like we’re having our first fight.

---