Page 142 of Captive Ruin

And in the images in my mind, the blade she’s holding is curved.

Thirty-Three

Lukas

Amelia doesn’t go to sleep in our room, but chooses one of the others. I have cameras in there too, the feeds live into my laptop, and I wait until she’s climbed into bed before I call her.

“Hello?”

“Merry Christmas, Little Stray.”

Her eyes jerk to the ceiling in reflex. “Is it?” she replies, voice cold.

I wince. “I’m sorry I’m not there—”

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes,” I say, growing irritated. I swallow it down with an effort. “Do you think there’s anywhere I’d rather be than with you?”

“I’m beginning to wonder.”

“I could be done here soon.” If tonight goes well.

“Whatever.” She scowls at the room, at me.

“Why are you in that bed? Why aren’t you in ours?”

“This bed has fewer… memories.”

So she’s missing me; she just won’t say it.

“Did you have a nice Christmas dinner?” I try, glancing down at my own half-eaten protein bar.

“Yes, it was lovely,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “Jorge is so silent it’s like he’s hardly there, and that reminds me of you. Tony is really growing on me too.” A pause. “Are we exclusive? We never discussed it. Have you seen how tight his ass is?”

I growl. I know she’s only trying to provoke me, but it’s working despite my control. In all the footage I’ve watched, she’s never looked at Tony with anything like desire.

Right?

Fuck, now I’m going to have to go back over it all and check.

“Yes,” I grind out. “We are exclusive.” I draw the word out, letting her hear my vehemence. “And don’t push me, Little Stray. Not when I’m not there to spank you.”

“Whose fault is that?” she asks, but I don’t miss the tremble of arousal she can’t hide.

“Entirely mine,” I say with a sigh. And the goddamn Volkovs, for making it so difficult to get to Dmitri Koval. But tonight I will. “And I’m sorry for it.”

“No need to be.” She feigns indifference. “I’m growing used to being on my own. By the way, I’m going to go and see my sister this week—”

“No. You’ve already seen her. Stay where you are.”

Her scowl returns. I watch her take a breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the sheet, her shoulders bare. As always, she’s naked under there, and the thought sends blood rushing to my cock.

God, seeing her angry turns me on so much. Her jaw is so beautiful when she clenches it.

“Van Wyk—”

“Lukas.” How many times have I asked her to call me that? She’s goddamn stubborn.