Page 17 of His Disobedient Bride

Cerise and I are so alike. I know she wants revenge.

But that is going to be mine.

And I’ll never allow a security breach like that ever again.

13

MARY

Cerise’s husband must be extremely affectionate, because he came yesterday while I was taking a nap, and I haven’t seen her since, although when I passed by her room a few times I heard deep grunts and soft moans that made my pussy twitch.

Dmitri says we are going to leave today, so I wait outside on the lower lawn with a cup of tea, looking out on the upper lawns that stretch to the endless forests of the Taiga. They look beautiful but wild and untamed, and I wonder if I’ll be allowed to go to my hotel today.

I’m startled to feel a sudden, unwanted flash of disappointment.

Disappointment for. . .what? I wonder. Although I like Dmitri and Cerise, I’m not an idiot. They’re obviously involved in some illegal organization, even if they did rescue me from the traffickers. It would be unsafe and deeply stupid to want to stay with them.

I set my empty cup down and see a man coming out of the front door. It must be Cerise’s husband.

He’s the most breathtakingly gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. He looks like a vampire book boyfriend. He’s extremely tall, with white-blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Powerful body, with huge shoulders. Face so perfectly made that it looks carved out of marble. He looks like every Viking warlord I’ve ever imagined. I didn’t know men like that existed.

And I suddenly realized something as he turned sharply towards me.

Those fucking warlords should stay in the books.

Because this guy looked terrifying.

He stopped when he saw me.

“Dmitri!” he suddenly snapped. “Who the fuck is this?”

Dmitri crushed his cigarette on the ground and turned around to look at me. “This is Mary MacDonald,” he said, but I realized with a skitter of fear that Dmitri looked nervous. Dmitri is built like a brick shithouse. I’ve seen him kill people with his bare hands. I don’t want to know what kind of person he is scared of.

“I said, who the fuck is this?” the gorgeous evil angel asked.

“Cerise found her,” Dmitri said. “She saw her getting harassed at a coffee shop and we brought her with us. She’s an American tourist.”

The man’s eyes spit blue fire at Dmitri. “There are no outsiders allowed in the Bratva,” he said. “You know this, cousin. For both of your sakes, you shouldn’t have let Cerise talk you into it.”

I see the blonde man take a gun out of his back pocket and I suddenly feel sheer panic flood my entire body. I want to run, scream, fight back, do something, but I can’t. My stupid legs are frozen in place, my cowardly custard body refusing to even defend myself.

“She’s not a threat, Andrei,” Dmitri tries. But the evil angel ignores him and takes another stride towards me.

I feel him grip my hair harshly and I know suddenly that I’m about to die. This man is ruthless and there’s no saving me.

Dmitri has his hands out, but he’s too far away, and the man named Andrei cocks the gun against my forehead. This hot vampire is going to kill me and all I can think of is how much of my life I’ve wasted being afraid.

“Please, no,” I whisper, but I can barely get the words out with the gun pressed to my forehead.

Suddenly, I hear Cerise. She’s standing at the top of the slope, on the upper lawns near the house. She has a big hunting knife in her hand and she’s pointing it at her wrist.

“Don’t do it, Andrei!” she shouts.

He pauses, looking up at her, but keeping the gun cocked at my temple.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cerise,” he says sharply. “Put that knife down.”

But then, before he has a chance to look away, or do anything else, she tightens her lips and draws the knife up her arm in a perfect steady line from her wrist to her elbow. The cut slices her entire forearm open and I immediately see a thick, straight line of blood flood her flesh. She has cut herself open with absolute perfect, fearless precision.

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