Page 35 of Savage Truce

After relieving my bladder, I take off the shirt that’s clearly a man’s and barely notice the boxers I’m wearing as I glance down at all the bruises covering my body.

Flashes of being kicked and hit whenever I wasn’t cooking bombard me, and a distressed sound escapes me.

Before I can attempt to stop it, I’m dragged back to the memories of the nightmarish week and a half.

CHAPTER 11

Rodian

Entering the room, there’s no sign of Anastasia, but then I notice she’s eaten, and it fills me with great satisfaction.

I want all her curves back.

While she’s been resting, I received confirmation of Yegor’s death from the Cosa Nostra. I sent out the proof to his three associates and best friend, along with the message that I’m marrying Anastasia.

I’ve received word from the associates, stating they will only believe it if they see us exchange our vows.

I told them to be patient and that they’ll get their invites soon.

After breaking the news to Anastasia that we’re getting married, she reacted with fear. I’m not sure it’s because of the marriage or the trauma she suffered.

The sound of running water gets my attention, and walking toward the shut bathroom door, I knock on it. “I have clean clothes for you.”

It’s been four days. I need to get Anastasia her own clothes. In the meantime, she’s been wearing mine, and even though I love her in my shirts, I’m dying to see her in a pretty dress.

When she doesn’t answer, I knock again. “Anastasia?”

I glance down, and the sight of water seeping through under the door has me slamming it open. I rush into the bathroom, and seeing Anastasia standing with her arms wrapped around herself, just staring off into space, I move past her and close the faucets. Pulling the plug so the water will drain out, I turn to look at my future bride who’s only wearing a pair of my boxers.

Even with bruises marring her skin, it’s fucking difficult not to take in how beautiful she is. Starving her might’ve stolen some of her softness, but it couldn’t erase the masterpiece that she is.

Her waist curves into thick hips and a lush, rounded ass that strains against the fabric of my stretchy boxers, making my hands fucking itch to grab it.

Now is not the time to ogle her, fuckface!

“Anastasia?” I set the clothes down on the counter and move closer, water sloshing beneath my shoes.

When she still doesn’t do anything but stare ahead of her, worry pours hot and fast through me. As soon as I touch her shoulders, she hunches them and begins to tremble more.

“Hey.” I keep my tone as soft as possible as I pull her to my chest. “You’re safe, krasivaya.” Remembering the first words she spoke when I saw her in that disgusting pen, I add, “I found you, moya krasavitsa. Remember? You’re home with me where nothing will hurt you.” Pulling back, I frame her face, and finally her moss-green eyes move and lock on mine. “There you are.” Relieved to get any reaction from her, I ask, “Are you okay?”

Instead of answering me, her features tighten and her complexion turns pale. Slowly looking down at where her arms are barely covering her nipples, her gorgeous breasts practically on full display to me, she rips free from my hold and rushes to the rail to grab a towel.

I get an eyeful of her luscious body, and unable to stop my cock from stiffening, I hightail it out of the bathroom.

“There are clothes on the counter,” I say before yanking the door shut behind me. Then the soggy carpet grabs my attention, and I curse, “Blyadʹ.”

Adjusting my rock-hard cock, I stalk out of the bedroom and at the top of the stairs, I call, “Miss Zoya, there was a water mishap and the carpet is wet. Come help.”

“Coming!”

I return to the bedroom, and when the door opens, I spot Anastasia’s bare feet in the water. I shoot forward, and as she gasps from my sudden approach and begins to backpedal, I haul her off her feet.

Her hands fly up and grip hold of my shoulders, her breath bursting near my neck. I carry her bridal style down the hallway and don’t stop until I reach my bathroom.

As I set her down on her feet, I say, “I’ll pour you a bath so you can soak. It will help you relax a little.”

After putting the plug in the jetted tub, I switch on the faucets before looking at Anastasia again. Gripping the counter with her left hand, she’s swaying on her feet, her eyes swimming with way too much fear.