I sigh, and watch as the auctioneer struts out again, all brash confidence now that he knows his wares have been well-received.
“Gentleman, gentleman, it is almost time to bring our festivities to an end. But I have, of course, saved the best until last. Eighteen years old, a certified virgin, this young lady may be a little curvy for some tastes, but what she lacks in aesthetics, she more than makes up for in innocence. Allow me to present, for your pleasure, a shy, innocent, eighteen year old virgin.”
The curtain at the rear of the room peel back and I see her.
My world crumbles.
Everything crashes down and I feel my balls flood, my mind flood, my everything flood with urges to take her, claim her, right fucking now.
I feel like a beast in the jungle, sighting its prey – no, its mate – and it’s her, it has to be her.
My eyes roam over her, her hair long and dark and wavy down to her shoulders, her face open, brave and yet frightened. Her eyes are stark blue and her body is curvaceous and gorgeous, her breasts bountiful and life-giving in the bikini, her hips wide, made to be grabbed, adored, spanked, claimed.
She’s mine.
Rage swells in me when I realize that everybody else is looking at her, too, that eyes are roaming over my woman. She looks around the room, blinking in the spotlight.
She can’t see us. We sit in relative darkness. But they can see her.
“Boss, what are you—”
But it’s too late.
I stand up and stride to the balcony edge, grip the railing, and then vault over. Ten, fifteen feet to the floor, and yet it doesn’t matter. I land in an athletic ball and then rise up to my full seven feet, feeling like a bear ready to swipe at the vulnerable throats of my enemies.
“She is mine,” I declare to the room, my eyes fixated on her.
I take off my jacket, stride over to her, and drape it over her shoulders.
“Go to the back,” I tell her. “Where the other girls are waiting. Wait there for me.”
“Um,” she whispers, shivering slightly.
She glances at the auctioneer.
“If any man wishes to challenge me that this woman is mine, that she belongs to me, speak now. Speak now and we’ll settle it like fucking men.”
Silence stretches across the room.
I feel how close this woman is to me, scenting something in the air, something sharp and tangy and welcoming.
It’s her womb, her appetizing womb.
“No, of course not, Mr. Elgort,” the auctioneer says. “She is yours, of course, and the price? We were going to start bidding for her at one million.”
Sacred ground. Break the rules here and thousands die in the fallout.
Crime syndicates are run by prickly men, men who offend easily. On the streets, it’s about respect. I want to tell them all to go fuck themselves. I want to march into that back room and free all those women.
But as the leader of the Bratva, I have a responsibility.
If I do what I know is right, countless more will die.
“One million?” I say.
“That’s right.”
I breathe in the scent of her again, feeling my balls pulse, a message stampeding through my mind.
She’s the one. It’s her. I’ve finally found her.
“I’ll pay ten million. Gavrie, see her safely back to the estate. We’re done here.”
“Um, Artem?” Emilio says. “What about our business meeting—”
“We’re done here,” I say flatly, and then I turn away, striding into the darkness.
The darkness, where I’ve always felt most at home.
And yet now there’s a glint of light, my heart hammering in my chest.
“What’s her name?” I demand of the auctioneer, when he comes walking after me, probably to see about payment.
I grab him by the collar and shove him up against the wall, this perverted dealer in flesh who loves his job way too fucking much.
“What’s her fucking name?”
“A-Anna Moore,” he whimpers, gasping for breath.
I let him drop.
Anna.
Anna Moore.
My queen.
My virgin, my fertile fucking untouched virgin, the woman I will be the first to touch.
To drive up and fire my hot seed, fire it right into the place it belongs.
Inside of her.
Chapter Two
Anna
My heart is still pounding like crazy as we drive up the long road that leads to the estate. I keep my nose pressed against the window, scanning for any possible chance for escape.
The walls of the estate are high, at least ten feet, and there are towers posted on all four corners with spotlights and guards. The gate is imposing and solid metal, and more guards patrol out front, pacing back and forth. The area around the walls is open, rolling hill lands, meaning that if I were even able to get beyond the walls, the guards would be able to spot me within seconds.
I’d have nowhere to hide.
Patience.
I slide back against the seat, hugging my arms around myself. One of the first things the man with the shaved head and the tattoos gave me when he came to collect me was a parcel of clothes. I pulled them on quickly, savoring the feel of material.