Valentin, to my surprise, leaned forward and pressed a kiss on my cheek. Heat ghosted over my skin at the gesture. I saw his top lip curl, which melted my heart.
“She’d torture me. She separated me from the other boys from age twelve. She had a male there for a time, a male she was screwing. I hated him about as much as I hated her. He had a couple of boys caged in the room, too, his own personal playthings, whom he would torture and exploit. But Mistress still took me in her chamber every day, and ‘demonstrated’ how to torture a captive. The first year was pain.” Valentin ducked his head and said, “What I did to you.” He swallowed and said, “Fuck, Zoya, how can you forgive me for that?”
I shivered, remembering the prod and the pain that spouted from its tip. But I kept my composure. “Perspective,” I replied. “My life has been one of hardship. When you too have walked through a thunderstorm you understand, through perspective, how another soaked by familiar gray skies can feel desperate, too. Desperate people do desperate things.”
I drank in her soft skin and beautiful face. I asked, “Are you real?”
Zoya dipped her eyes in embarrassment, then huffed a laugh. “That depends on who you ask. Zoya Kostava is a myth, the famed daughter of the Kostava Clan whose body was never found. It seems I am more of a ghost than flesh and blood, if you are minded to ask the people of Georgia about my name.”
Valentin dragged the hand that was on my face down over my neck to skirt over my waist and said, “You’re real to me.”
I sobered. I felt static energy crackle between us. The tension was high, but both of us were sore and fragile. This was close enough.
For now.
“Tell me more,” I said, to continue the conversation.
“She hurt me. She taught me pain. Then she turned the training on its head and I became the one to administer pain. I was happy at first. I got to torture the Georgian bitch who had ruined my life. But as I administered the torture the bitch loved it, stealing any pleasure I could take from those messed-up days.”
Valentin reached up and pushed his hand through his hair. “Then, when I was fourteen, I began a new form of torture training. Sexual torture.” Valentin’s face paled. “I won’t go into it, but that fucking bitch raped me. She took everything from my body. She must be at least twenty years older than me; she just lapped it up.” His skin turned a sickly shade of green when he explained, “Then, just like with the pain, she flipped the lesson. She made me touch her. Made me make her come, over and over. Made me stick my dick in her dirty fucking mouth. Then she made me fuck her. Fuck her until I couldn’t stand.”
“Shh. Calm down,” I soothed. Valentin’s body tensed so much on replaying these memories that the holes in his neck began to erupt. But he gripped on to my wrists. “She still makes me take her like that. She triggers the serum in the collar until I’m not myself, then orders me to fuck her. But when the serum fades, I still remember everything she forces me to do.” Valentin’s eyes squeezed shut. “And I hate it. She tears off another piece of my soul every time she makes me fuck her.”
I could see that Valentin was about to lose it, so I pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist. His hands instinctively landed on the backs of my thighs, and drifted upward until they stopped on my behind. Valentin gasped as I shifted to lie over his chest, my flesh to his flesh.
I felt him harden underneath me, and heat pooled between my thighs. Valentin sucked in a sharp breath. “Zoya,” he moaned as I laid my cheek on his chest.
My arms wrapped around his thick and toned waist, and I listened for minutes as his heartbeat decelerated from fast to slow. When he had calmed, his hand ran through my hair and he said quietly, “I never knew touching a female could be enjoyed, until I touched you. I never knew if I could ever block out that bitch’s schoolings, until I touched you.”
Lifting my head, I traced my finger over my lips and said, “I never knew a kiss could be stolen, until you.”
Valentin’s eyes flared, and stroking my cheek with his finger he said, “I never thought I could be a thief of the first kiss, until you.”
I stilled. Among all the heavy and sad talk, a laugh burst from my lips. Valentin watched me; then, unable to resist, a gruff rumble came from his chest.
“Come here!” he ordered. Doing as he bid, I climbed up his body. He cupped my cheeks and said, “Soon, I will steal another kiss.”
Dropping my smile, I tipped my head to the side and said, “I think I would be happy if you stole all of my kisses.”
“You don’t mean that,” Valentin said sharply, his humor evaporating and a darkness taking hold.
“I do mean that,” I argued. “I mean it with everything I am.”
“I am your torturer. I have brought you pain.”
“Yet here I am, revealing exactly who I am. And you are still here, too.”
Valentin studied my face, then threatened, “I could still use the knowledge I have gained to complete my hit.” His hands ran down to my neck and held it in his hands. “I could still kill you. My orders are to kill you before I leave this chamber. Did you guess that, little Georgian?”
A moment of fear held me in its grip. But confident in my instincts, I said, “But you will not.” I left Valentin’s hands wrapped around my neck. With a pained sigh, he released his hands and looked away. I could sense the war he was fighting deep inside. “Talk to me. What is it?” I pushed.
Without looking my way, he said, “I have to complete the hit, I have to return, or Mistress will harm Inessa. Master, Mistress’s brother and the man that runs the Blood Pit—controls all of us. He wants my sister for himself.”
Ice coated my heart. “Wants her for what?”
Defeat leaked from Valentin’s rigid posture, and he said, “When Inessa reached the age of fourteen, things changed, too, for her. At fourteen her lessons changed from domestic to something much worse. They began giving her different drugs, the drugs that made her sexually dependent. Mistress made me watch her being trained by older women in ways to pleasure men. Then she made me sit and watch my sister’s innocence being taken by that male who had given me the drugs. After that, it became my sister’s life—a sexual slave to anyone Mistress wanted to grant favors to, or who paid her for my sister’s time. At times, even Mistress would take her, to ensure I remained obedient.”
“Valentin,” I whispered, and hugged him tightly.
“I am to bring your brother back after torturing him, so Mistress can claim the kill. If I don’t, Mistress will send Inessa back to Georgia, back to the Blood Pit, straight into Master’s arms.”
“What is the Blood Pit?” I asked in trepidation. “What happens there, besides rearing children to be monsters?”
“Fighting. Death-match fighting. It is the ultimate death ring. Master makes his money through the gambling. He runs secret underground gulags all over the world. Every few months he brings the champions to the Blood Pit to check who is the most brutal death-match fighter.”
I sat up, a sickening feeling stirring in my stomach. Valentin saw me move. Looking into his eyes, I said, “You can’t take Zaal from me. I live to find him, once more to be with him. I was about to knock on his door when you stole me off the street.”
I heard the trembling of my voice. But I was desperate.
“Shh.” This time Valentin soothed me and, with his hand on my wrists, brought my chest back to his. He wrapped me in his arms and said, “I will not kill your brother. He is your Inessa.”
My body melted against Valentin’s and my eyes began to close. I never spoke anymore, nor did he. What else was there to say? He needed to save his sister and I needed to save my brother. I had no idea how we would progress from this mess, but right now we both needed rest. I was content to lie in his arms.
I was content to comfort the monster.
Because this monster deserved my care.
He needed to be loved.
By me.
I was ripped from Zaal’s arms by the guard. I s
creamed and held out my arms for my sykhaara to save me. But a guard was holding him back. He was shouting, his green eyes wide as he tried to get back to me. I looked to Anri, who also was fighting to get back, but neither could get free.
The guard put me on the floor. I tried to run, but my grandmama kept hold of my shoulder. I stopped when I felt her cold hand shaking. I glanced up at her. Grandmama’s face was white.
Hearing a scream, I turned my head and saw the man, Levan Jakhua, forcing my twin brothers to face us. I sought out the rest of my family. We were lined up against the wall.
I frowned, but I didn’t know what was happening. Then I heard my mama sniff. My papa put his hand on her shoulder. I heard her whisper, “They are going to kill us all, but my boys. Baby, they’re going to kill us all.” My papa didn’t say anything in response, but I was scared. I was so scared.
I looked back to the Jakhua man. I wanted Zaal; I knew he would save me. I moved my foot to run toward him. Just as I did, loud noises filled the air like cracks of thunder. I screamed at the sound; then something hit me in my shoulder. I tried to cry out as hot pain sliced down my arm. Then something else hit my waist, and something else went into my hip. My vision blurred and blurred, until I fell to the floor. I tried to get up, I tried to scream, but someone fell on top of me. I couldn’t move, I was cold, so so col;, then something choked my lungs, and everything faded to black—
I gasped awake, but someone was holding me in his arms. Cold was seeping into my bones, but strong arms were warming me up. They rocked me back and forth, and the scent of dark spices filled my nostrils, adding to the warmth. Painful memories began to fade, then completely disappeared when a soft pair of crystal blue eyes moved before me.
“Valentin,” I said through a tight throat.
“You were sleeping,” he said, and rubbed at my arms. “You were screaming. You were screaming for someone to save you, then saying you couldn’t breathe.”
Water filled my eyes, like it always did when this nightmare struck. I went to lift my hand to wipe the tears away, but Valentin beat me to it. We had been resting and healing for four days. And every day, we would tell each other a little more about ourselves. He told me of his life with a drug-addicted mother, then his and Inessa’s life in the orphanage. My blood chilled when he spoke of the Night Wraiths that would come every few months for the children—the Georgians that bought the children from the orphanage to add to their death-match or sex slave pits.
I told him about my years in hiding. My years of never leaving my house. My days reading and learning how to fight torture if our enemies ever found me.
Valentin told me he was proud of me. He called me his kitten, his little kotyonok. It never failed to make me feel safe.
“Kotyonok, are you okay?” Valentin pushed, but I wasn’t. My body needed to feel alive. After remembering the thick scent and heavy feel of death, I needed him in my arms more than ever.
I wanted him to take me. I wanted him to make me his, all his.
Valentin’s hands were still on my arms. I glanced up at his neck. The holes from the collar were closed. The skin was still sore and tender, but he was healing, and he was strong. Since he removed the collar from his neck, since the drugs had left his system, the color of his skin had returned to a natural tone. And his ripped and broad body was fit and strong.
I needed him more than I needed to breathe.
I saw no reason for us to wait.
“Kotyonok?” Valentin asked again. Looking into his concerned blue eyes, I lifted my hand and ran it down his chest, straight to the bottom of his abdominals. My skin flushed as I felt the hard muscle ripple beneath my touch. An involuntary hiss escaped through his clenched teeth.
Valentin’s hands dropped from my arms, and he sat back on his haunches. He watched as I rose to my knees, edging closer, to slowly lean in and press my lips to the center of his chest.
“Zoya,” he said through a thick tight throat. But I stayed silent. I moved up his body, my warm breath causing his fair skin to bump in my wake. Reaching the bottom of his neck, I glanced down to see his manhood hard and stiff against his stomach. Heat built in my core. Feeling overcome with the need for this man, I leaned in and licked under the permanent scar on Valentin’s neck, the scar that years and years of wearing the metal collar had caused.
Valentin’s body stilled. I heard him trying to control his hard breathing. I saw his hands clench into fists by his sides. But as I laid a final kiss on the side of his neck I heard a strangled groan rip from his throat as he pushed me back on the mattress.
In seconds, Valentin was crawling over my body, towering over me with his huge size. His eyes were lit with hunger as he stared at my lips. I licked along the seams as my hands lifted to lightly stroke down his waist. Valentin’s neck tensed, and he said roughly, “I’m going to steal another kiss.”
A wave of heat crashed over me and I replied, “Good.” Valentin went to move in when I stopped him with a hand on his chest.
He immediately stilled and frowned. “Zoya?” he questioned.
Swallowing back any nerves trying to creep into my heart, I said, “I want this with you.” Lifting my head to move into his personal space, I added, “I want you, Valentin, to steal the rest of me.”
The muscles on Valentin’s shoulders bunched, and on a loud roar he crushed his lips to mine. His mouth was hot and searing, and I gripped the hard muscles of his back with my desperate hands.
He groaned low as he pushed his tongue between my lips, immediately dueling against mine. My hand lifted from his back and wrapped around his neck, trying to push him even closer. I needed him as close as he could get. I wanted him to feel wanted. I wanted him to feel loved.
Valentin’s hard body pressed down on mine. As we did not once break from the kiss his thick thigh nudged my legs apart.
My head snapped back at the feel of his length running against my core. My nails dug into the hard flesh of his shoulders. But Valentin’s attention never wavered. His mouth pressed kiss after kiss to my cheek and jaw. His hips rolled, pushing himself farther between my legs. A deep flush overtook my body. Valentin’s tongue slipped from between his lips, and he began licking at my neck, a hungry rumble echoing in his chest.
Shivers ran down my spine, before splintering apart and chasing through my veins. My hands moved to hold on to his shaven hair, the rough feel of his black hair tickling my palm.
His mouth ravaged my neck, nipping and grazing his teeth against my flushed skin. “Valentin,” I cried, my hips beginning to roll in search of the release that was building in my thighs.
Valentin broke from my neck and dragged the tip of his nose over my cheek, until he hovered just above me. His blue eyes were sparkling in need. As our gazes met. We stilled, suspended, just staring at each other.
Valentin’s hot breath blew in short pants over my face. My hand fell to cup his beautifully scarred face. “You are so beautiful,” I found myself confessing.
Valentin’s nostrils flared and he leaned down to press three sweet soft kisses on my cheek. “I am not beautiful,” he replied. “I am scarred and worn. An ugly beast.”
Turning my face to his cheek, I kissed the skin just below his ear, watching as the skin grew bumps at my touch. “I decide who and what I think holds beauty, and Valentin, you do in my eyes.” Valentin’s body was still with tension, so I brushed my mouth past his ear and declared, “My beautiful monster.”
I had licked over the curve of Valentin’s ear when, on a strained moan, he placed his hand on my jaw and turned my face to meet his. Full lips kissed mine in quick and ravaging caresses; then he moved down my neck until he reached my chest. Valentin shifted down my body, his strong rough hands heating my skin. He palmed my breasts and licked at my nipples as their flesh hardened, yearning for his touch.
My eyes fluttered shut, and I pushed on the back of Valentin’s head, wanting him to take me harder and faster, the feel of his mouth on me reaching every cell. He was possessing me
, owning me, and I had never felt more alive.
His teeth pulled at my nipple, the sensation shooting straight between my legs. His mouth moved to the next breast, and my head rolled on the mattress. It was too much, the feel of this rough and dangerous man, this born killer, this assassin, taking my body as his own.
Then he dipped lower.
Valentin’s tongue traced down over my torso, until it reached the bottom of my stomach. Valentin ran the tip of his tongue back and forth over where my short hairs began. I writhed on the bed, and cried out in shock when I felt the wetness of his tongue dip to the creases of my thighs.
Valentin growled and, lifting his head, his eyes intent on mine, asked, “Are you sure?” My heart melted, knowing he didn’t want to push me.
“Yes.”
Valentin licked along his lips, never breaking his gaze, then with his hands on my inner thighs pushed them apart. I shivered in anticipation of him touching me so intimately. Touching me so intimately with my consent, not as my torturer, but as the man who understood my soul.
Then, to my shock, Valentin lowered until his broad shoulders were between my thighs, the hot breath from his mouth washing over my most sensitive part. My eyelids fluttered, trying to shut at the feel of him so close to me, but I fought to make them stay open, to watch him making me his.
Valentin’s attention was solely on my core. His teeth had gritted together as though he was fighting hard to hold back. My chest tightened when I saw his hips pushing into the mattress.
He was as lost to this moment as I.
Valentin moved his hand, and I cried out as his finger ran through my folds. He teased and teased until I squirmed for him to touch me more. “Valentin,” I whispered as he kissed the inside of my thigh.
“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice low and husky with need. “So fucking beautiful.” He laid another kiss to my inner thigh, only closer to my center this time, the feeling causing my skin to blaze with fire.
“Valentin, please,” I begged, unsure what I was asking for. Instinct was driving me, pleading for this man to touch me.