The Darkest Temptation (Made 3) - Page 62

“I’m going to . . .” Mila trailed off, her head lolled, and then she went limp in my arms, a comatose tangle of blonde hair and legs.

“What the fuck’s wrong with her?” Alexander demanded. His wary gaze took Mila in, and he didn’t even glance at the dead man beside him.

After adjusting Mila’s weight so her head rested on my shoulder, I picked up my cigar and puffed on it while viewing her unconscious form with feigned narrow-eyed concern. “Not sure. Do you think she needs to eat?” I blew out a breath of smoke and met Alexander’s gaze, mine sparking. “I thought Mikhailov women only needed to be fucked to survive.” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him about her phobia. Those little details were mine.

“You son of a bitch,” he seethed. “She’s not her mother—”

“Save it,” I said, bored. “I’ve heard it before.”

“Let her go. You can take me instead.”

“Tempting, but you’re not my type.” I sent a look to Viktor to get him out of here. “Strip him,” I ordered. “He can crawl back to Alexei like a wounded dog.” Meeting Alexander’s eyes as Viktor hauled him to his feet, I said, “Make sure you tell Alexei how well his daughter fares.”

He glared. “Fuck you.”

Viktor punched him in the stomach before slamming his pretty face into the table. I sighed when blood splattered onto my piece of cake.

“Watch out for the wolves,” I added while he was being dragged out. “Although, I hope they have better taste.”

“Go to hell, D’yavol—”

Viktor yanked him out the door.

Sitting back in my chair, I held an annoying look with Albert before he got to his feet and left the room. I was blowing out a smoke ring, feeling oddly content, when Mila roused. I bit my cigar between my teeth and pulled the bloody cake to her.

“Medovik, kotyonok?”

Her expression paled, and as a soft chuckle left me, she scrambled off my lap and puked into a potted plant.

cacoëthes

(n.) an urge to do something inadvisable

Head resting against the window, I stared past the spiderwebs of frost on the glass. Moonlight cast a blanket of silver over the snow, and the frozen wasteland glittered like diamonds.

From my vantage point, it felt like I was a princess locked in a tower. Held captive by a monster who shot men in the head at a dining table set with crystal glasses and cake.

After I vomited the contents of my stomach into one of Ronan’s potted plants and wiped my mouth with the back of a hand, for whatever demented reason, he let me walk back to my cage and shut the door. In the midst of bloodshed, it felt like the safest thing to do. But as two more days passed in this room, not even the memory of a man with a bullet hole in his forehead quelled the desire for air. The seclusion began to burn, to bubble, to encase my body and squeeze.

I’d started making tallies on the bathroom mirror with an old tube of lipstick I found, which probably belonged to Ronan’s last “pet,” and I was now at seven days.

A full week in hell.

The door opened, and a chill coasted through me as Ronan’s shadow spread wings across the floor. He pulled a wooden chair toward the middle of the room, took a seat, and rested his elbows on his knees.

My gaze flicked to the open door behind him. I wondered if that guard was still stationed in the hall. At this point, I’d rather be shot than stuck in the same room as this man.

“Are you superstitious now, kotyonok?”

D’yavol in the flesh stared back at me. I didn’t know he would embody a man dressed in black designer suits, tattoos, and a charming façade. I’d never be so naïve again.

I gazed out the window and said, “Yes. If there’s a devil, there has to be a God.”

“You think someone’s going to save you?”

My throat tightened at the idea at least one had already died trying. Ivan suddenly came to mind. I missed him. I missed his safe, comforting touch. I even missed the lack of spark. Now I knew the kind of chemistry between me and Ronan could only be witchcraft.

“You’ve received a lot of calls on your little burner phone since you arrived in Moscow.” His pause was oppressive, so stagnant and heavy, I couldn’t help but give him my full attention. “Some from your papa, but most from another number.”

Tags: Danielle Lori Made Erotic
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