Page 44 of The Pakhan’s Stolen Bride

Via’s head snaps toward me, her eyes narrowing as she sees my posture, then the three armed guards standing silently in the corridor behind me. She stands up, smoothing her leggings, her chin lifting with that stubborn, defensive pride.

"Did you decide I’m not allowed to look at the plants anymore, or is the three-man escort just for my personal amusement?" She walks toward me, her bare feet silent on the stone. "You’re acting like a warden, Ilya. It’s annoying."

"You’re staying in this wing," I say, my voice a flat, unyielding vibration. "The gardens are off-limits."

"I was in the greenhouse!" She gestures to the glass roof. "It’s inside the house! I’m practically a prisoner anyway, and now you won't even let me see the grass?"

"It’s not safe," I say.

"Nothing in this city is safe!" She steps into my personal space, her chest rising and falling in short, angry gasps. She smells like wet earth and lavender, a combination that makes my teeth ache. "My father’s men are dead, your men are dead, and I saw... I saw a ghost last night, Ilya. You’re hiding something from me. I know you are."

I grab her by the arm, my fingers digging into the wool of her sweater. I don't answer her. I look past her shoulder at Ekaterina. "Ekaterina, go back to your room."

Ekaterina looks between us, her face shadowed with worry, but she sets the watering can down and scurries out of the greenhouse without a word.

I drag Via toward the master suite. She’s fighting me, her heels dragging on the flagstones, her small fists beating against my chest, but I’m an immovable force. I push open the heavy oak doors, haul her inside, and slam the door shut. The lock clicks, leaving us in the quiet, dim twilight of the bedroom.

"Let go of me!" She twists out of my grip, her eyes burning with a wild, angry fire. "You're a brute! You're a paranoid, selfish brute who thinks he can just lock me in a room whenever he’s in a bad mood!"

"I am keeping you alive," I rasp, my voice finally cracking under the weight of the pressure in my chest.

"I don't care about alive if I have to live like this!" She throws her hands up, her face flushed, her breathing jagged. "You took a bullet for me, Ilya. You held me in that car. You touched me... you touched me like you actually cared whether I breathed. And now you’re back to being this cold, silent monster who won't even look me in the eye!"

I move.

I’m across the room before she can even draw a breath. I slam her back against the heavy oak door, my body a solid, crushing weight that pins her flat against the wood. My hand goes straight for her throat, my fingers wrapping around the column of her neck, not to choke her, but to hold her steady as I look down into her eyes.

I don't want to talk about Mikhail. I don't want to think about the war. I just want her. I need to feel her body, to taste the vanilla of her skin, to be sure she’s still here, still mine, before the world burns down around us.

"You want to know why I’m looking at you, Via?" I growl, my mouth inches from hers, my warm breath fanning across her lips. "Because every time I close my eyes, I see you… I see the blood. And I see how close I came to losing you."

Her breath catches, her eyes widening, her chest heaving against my shirt. The anger in her face slowly melts, her lower lip trembling as she stares back at me.

"Ilya..."

I don't let her finish as I seal my mouth over hers, my tongue driving into her mouth, devouring her, leaving her no room to breathe. She lets out a soft, whimpering groan against my lips, her hands flying up to grip my shoulders, her nails digging into the torn fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.

I release her neck and slide my hand down, my fingers tangling in the hem of her oversized grey sweater. I rip it upward, pulling the heavy wool over her head and tossing it onto the floor.

She’s wearing nothing but a thin, black lace bra, her pale skin gleaming in the dim light of the bedroom. Her breasts are rising and falling in rapid, shallow movements, her nipples already hardened into tight peaks.

"You're beautiful," I mutter, my mouth dropping to her collarbone. I bite down on the soft skin near her neck, my teeth grazing the flesh just hard enough to make her arch off the door with a loud, breathless gasp.

"Please, Ilya... now..." Her voice is a ragged, wet thread, her legs automatically rising to wrap around my waist, her body wet, aching, and completely ready for me.

I hook my hands under her thighs, hoisting her up against the wood of the door. She locks her legs around my hips, her arms wrapping tightly around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder as I quickly unbuckle my belt. I slide my trousers down, my cock springing free, thick, hard, and throbbing with a heavy, painful pulse.

I slide her silk panties down her thighs, ripping them away with a single, rough tug.

I position the head of my cock right against her wet, throbbing entrance. She’s soaking wet, the hot, slippery syrup of her arousal coating her thighs, her body completely begging for the fullness of me.

"Via," I growl, my hand coming up to grip her chin, forcing her face up.

I drive myself inside her.

I don't go slow. I thrust deep, my entire length sliding into her tight, burning channel in a single, heavy stroke.

She let out a sharp, piercing cry, her back arching off the wood of the door as she clings to me. The stretch is immense, her internal walls wrapping around me like a hot glove, squeezing me so hard my jaw clenches as I fight the urge to release immediately.