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  And when I look up, Nicolai is gone. I know he isn't truly gone, though. He never takes his eyes off of me.

  We party late into the night. Eric gives me a spiked ginger ale, which I pass off as a regular soda, and by the time they're closing the doors to the rental hall, I'm feeling a little tipsy.

  Eric leads me to an empty hallway, and pulls me to him. "Come back to my place tonight?" he asks.

  "I..." my voice trails off. It's hard ditching Nicolai, and after that display in the car earlier, I'm not sure I'm game for pushing him. "I'm tired, Eric."

  "Are you serious?" he asks. "C'mon, Marissa. Just for one night. Ditch that oaf that follows you around like a puppy dog and head out with me. Just for tonight."

  "He is not an oaf," I say tightly. "And I don't think so."

  Eric turns on me, his playful attitude growing quickly cold and demanding. His grip on my arm tightens to painful. "One night," he says.

  My pulse quickens at his angry temper. I've never seen him drunk before. Is he a mean drunk?

  "I-I don't think so," I tell him.

  "That necklace I got you wasn't good enough?"

  I try to pull away but he grabs my wrist.

  "She said no. Do you need me to say it for her?" The deep voice makes both me and Eric freeze.

  Nicolai stands a few feet away, and he looks angry enough to kill. I look from him to Eric, and can tell they're on the verge of an epic pissing match.

  "Yeah, no," Eric says, rolling his eyes at Nicolai. "All good there, chief."

  "Marissa, come with me," Nicolai says, quirking a finger at me.

  This time, I go willingly, though at the look on Nicolai's face, I'm not sure he's the safer choice than Eric. When I'm within arm's reach of Nicolai, he shocks me by grabbing my arm and yanking me close to him.

  "Nicolai!" I say in shock. "What are you—"

  His mouth comes to my ear. "You listen to me. You go back in that room and say good-bye. Tell them all you're going to a friend's house tonight and you'll be there a few days."

  "What?" I whisper. He wants me to lie? My heart hammers in my chest. I don't know why he's demanding this, what his endgame is—

  "Yes. Now."

  The blue fire in his eyes tells me he's deadly serious. I shake my head in confusion, but he grips my arm tightly. "Go."

  "You're scaring me, Nicolai," I whisper, shaking my head. This isn't the man who's protected me for nearly five years, but someone deadly. Dangerous. Terrifying.

  I know he's a prominent member of The Bratva, but I've chosen to remain deliberately ignorant of all things Bratva.

  And then he's caging me in, one arm above my head and one at my throat. I can't breathe, my lungs frozen as shock and terror sweep through me.

  "You ought to be scared," he whispers in my ear. What?

  "Go in there. Tell them you're going to your friend's house. Then you come right back here to me."

  Releasing me, he takes a step back and points toward the other room. I quickly weigh my options.

  I could tell him no and straight out defy him. Report him to my father, or the police even. This is probably what I should do. I could run from him.

  Or I could do what he says.

  Could I have been blind to who he really was, after all these years? I thought he was my protector, and now...

  Tears well in my eyes, but I do what he says, making my way toward the bar where my father is having a final drink, saying good-bye to his friends. I paste on a fake smile.

  "I'm spending the night at Emily's," I tell him. "She's invited me to go to her beach house for a few days. Okay?"

  My father polishes his drink off, his eyes blood-shot and unfocused.

  "Nicolai knows?"

  Oh, Nicolai knows.

  "Yeah," I say, a lump rising in my throat. My voice is high-pitched and a little squeaky. "He knows."

  "Be good," he says, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

  Maybe the implied threat in Nicolai's tone is only in my head. For years and years, he's been the one constant in my life, and even though he drives me crazy, he's done nothing but take care of me.

  While I grew from childhood into adulthood, with all the awkward phases in between. And now, what is his purpose with me?

  I take out my phone and shoot Laina a quick text, too. She felt badly she couldn't be at my graduation today. I want to confide in her. She's like a sister to me, and she knows Nicolai well, since he's her brother.

  Heading to Emily's. See you soon?

  But she doesn't respond.

  Nicolai stands like he always does. Brooding and stern, his arms crossed, watching me. Wordlessly, he unfolds his arms and points to the floor beside him.

  I inhale sharply. A silent command to come.

  Feeling like I'm making a decision that will affect the direction of my entire life, I walk to him on shaky legs. He doesn't even wait for me to reach him, but takes me by the hand and leads me to an exit at the far end of the hall. A running car awaits.

  I begin to panic.

  "Nicolai..." I whisper, shaking my head. "I can't..."

  "Don't make this harder than it needs to be," he says out of the side of his mouth. "I swear to God, Marissa. Come with me. Walk quietly."

  He quickens his pace. I fall into step beside him, swallowing the lump in my throat. I'm scared. So fucking scared. Then we're out the door and he's opening the passenger door. Something tells me if I set foot in that car, nothing will ever be the same again. That going with him now will change the course of my life forever.

  "No," I tell him. I shake my head. "You're scaring me. Nicolai, no." I turn away from him, but don't get far. In one swift motion, he grabs me by the back of the neck like an errant puppy and hauls me over to the car. I try to twist out of his grip, but he's too fast. Why, of all nights, does the parking lot have to be vacant? I try to move away, but he effortlessly lifts me in his arms, carrying me like I'm a baby. I should scream, but panic freezes my voice, and I can't make a sound.

  The door opens and I hear a car approach us. I crane my head to look, but he pulls me to his chest. I can't breathe or speak.

  "Too much to drink," he says to someone over his shoulder with a laugh. "Silly girl."

  The other person laughs in response, and then he's bending down and buckling me in. I try to squirm and get out of his grip, but he quickly overpowers me and shuts the door. The second he's gone, I fumble with the locks, trying to unfasten it. This isn't right, something is so wrong, and I don't know what to do, but he's fastened the lock in such a way I can't open the door.

  It's late out, and the parking lot is cloaked in darkness. For one wild minute, I wonder if he's done something to the lighting so he can take me away unseen. I look to him then out the window again. I could call someone. Laina? I could text someone, even. But I still don't really know what he's planning on doing.

  He sits in the driver's seat, then drives out of the parking lot.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I demand. I'm doing my best to keep full-fledged panic from taking over. I still trust this man.

  His jaw clenches and he grips the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turn white. He says nothing in response.

  "Nicolai, I feel like there's something I should know," I say, my voice shaking a little. "I don't get why you would do this." Tears fill my eyes, and I hastily swipe them away. "Please."

  A moment of silence passes, and I try one last time. "What are you doing?" I whisper.

  His features are granite, immovable.

  "Be quiet, Marissa," he orders.

  I don't even bother hiding my tears. I cry freely, as my heart shatters into pieces.

  I thought I loved this man. I thought he couldn't stand me. And now, not only do I know this to be true, but he isn't the man I thought him to be.

  Chapter 3

  Nicolai

  Laina gave me the information I needed, but it wasn't until I spoke with Rafael—my friend, who went by the name of Maksym in another time and
place—did I fully understand the severity of the threat against Marissa.

  If I tell her why she needs to leave, she will never believe me. And I don't trust her not to run to her boyfriend or friends, or to say something to her father. Against every fucking instinct I had, I decided to take her.

  "Where to, brother?" I asked Raf. I needed an out. I even considered taking her back to our compound in Russia, but Raf cautioned me against that.

  "They'll look there," he says. "They might expect you to go home. Go to Boston."

  "Boston?"

  "In Boston, we have Bratva connections. They're neutral."

  Neutral... loyal to neither us nor our enemies. Neutrality is far from safe. On a dime, with enough incentive, they could turn.

  "And if you go to Boston, you can grab a flight out of Logan easily to damn near anywhere if you need to."

  "Fuck. They'll find out," I protested.

  "Soon," he said. "But not until you've ended the threat against her safety."

  I hate this. I fucking hate this.

  So I'm taking her to Boston, to the compound Rafael has recommended to me. It's a two-day journey at best, four-day at worst. I'll have to keep her hidden. Stay under the radar of the fucking Bratva of Atlanta, the most formidable group in the states.

  But I'll do everything I can to keep this girl safe.

  "Here I am, thinking you are the one who is supposed to protect me," Marissa prattles on. A part of me hates seeing her tear-stained eyes, ringed black from the smudged mascara lining them. A part of me longs to console her. To tell her the truth. But if I did, all could be lost.

  "I said be quiet," I tell her. "I'm not telling you again."

  "Are you threatening me?" she asks.

  "No," I tell her calmly. "I'm warning you. You're in danger, Marissa. You will do exactly what I tell you."

  "Or what? You'll hurt me?" She doesn't sound angry, though, but hurt, and hell if that doesn't kill me.

  My thoughts immediately turn to really hurting her, of causing her pain, draping her over my knee and watching her skin redden beneath the heft of my palm... punishing her while she begs for mercy. I breathe in and let the breath out, schooling my features and ignoring the rampant desire that consumes me.

  She's a fucking child.

  It can't happen. It won't happen.

  But she must do what I tell her.

  No, I won't promise I won't hurt her.

  I'll do whatever the hell I need to keep her safe.

  "You wouldn't hurt me, Nicolai," she says, her voice tinged with the betrayal written in her eyes. It's more of a plea than a statement.

  "I wouldn't test that theory if I were you."

  She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. Turning away from me, she looks out the window and watches the houses go by in silence. So quietly I almost miss it, she takes her phone out and sends a message.

  I reach over, snatch it out of her hand, and tuck it into my pocket.

  "Hey! Seriously, Nicolai, what the hell?"

  I don't respond at first. She stomps her feet on the floorboards of the car and clenches her hands in fists of rage, growling like an angry kitten. Marissa isn't used to not getting what she wants.

  She's swiping angrily at the tears that fall down her cheeks.

  I want to kiss those tears away and pull her to me. Tuck her into my chest and promise her she'll be okay. At the same time, I'm tempted to turn her over my knee and teach her to behave.

  But not now.

  "I thought you were one of the good ones," she says. "I've always thought you were a good man."

  I don't respond. Maybe if I ignore her completely, she'll give up on the damn chatter. I'm trying to fucking think.

  "And now you've taken me from my home. You know this is illegal, don't you? You know you could go to jail for this, don't you?"

  I fucking do know this, but I also know that she's pushing her boundaries to see how far she can go with me, just like she always does. Only this time this is no curfew or frat party she's sneaking into.

  She'll learn to behave.

  "I said be quiet. If you speak again until I tell you to, I'm going to pull this car over and gag you." I shake my head. "Khristos."

  Her jaw drops so fast it's almost comical, but to her credit she doesn't speak. For a whole minute.

  "Where are we going? Can you at least tell me that?"

  She needs to learn that I mean what I say, and she needs to learn that now.

  I look in the rearview mirror, confirming no one's followed us, then pull over onto the side of the road. Gravel crunches beneath the tires as I skid to a stop. Her body stills, her hands placed firmly on her lap, her gaze slowly coming to me. I look around the vacant interior of the car and find nothing suitable to gag her with. We left with fucking nothing but the clothes on my back, the weapons on my body and in my glove box, and my wallet. She's got nothing but the clothes she's wearing, and her phone, which is now mine.

  She's wearing a skimpy little black dress, her hair hanging about her in billowy waves. I've got nothing that would work to gag her and wish I hadn't made the damn threat. I could use my belt, but gagging with a belt is clumsy and awkward.

  I'm wearing a button-down dress shirt and a t-shirt underneath. I quickly unbutton the shirt and toss it aside, then yank off my t-shirt. She watches me in wide-eyed fascination, flushing madly when she looks at my bare chest, crisscrossed with tattoos and scars. It's the first time she's looked at me like this that I've noticed, and my stomach tightens.

  The air between us crackles, and I'm vividly aware of the way her breath is coming in ragged, labored gasps.

  "Okay," she says, holding her hands up in the air as if in surrender. "I'll—I'll be quiet," she stammers, turning away from me. "Please. I'll do what you say but I—mmmphhh!"

  I've twisted the t-shirt into a sort of rope and threaded it between her lips, tying it into a knot at the back of her head.

  Her muffled anger fades to garbled pleading, which I stoutly ignore, then I sit back heavily down beside her and put my shirt back on. She watches every move before her hands fall into her lap helplessly as I pull back on the road, intent on getting to our first stop. I pick up my phone and dial Rafael.

  "You got her?"

  "Yeah," I tell him. "Anyone know yet?"

  "No. Laina's confirming her story, so it’ll be a few days until everyone knows. Hopefully by then you'll find what you need to."

  "Hopefully."

  I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing with her. Where the fuck we're going. What the fuck I'll do when I get there, or how she's going to react.

  We drive for several hours, until her head bobs to the side and she's dozing off, and it's almost normal, almost natural even, like we're a couple on a fucking road trip. But I know better, and my conscience doesn't relent for a second. What I want to do to her now that I have her alone, now that the brotherhood of Bratva brothers isn't hovering over me, should land me in jail for life.

  But she looks so pretty and helpless, lying against the door, my t-shirt gagging her pretty mouth. It's undeniably erotic, having her under my control.

  When my eyes burn from lack of sleep and I'm convinced no one's followed us, that we have this momentary freedom, I finally decide to stop at a hotel somewhere in the Carolinas.

  "Marissa." I gently push her shoulder, and she wakes with a start, mumbling and flailing. She's frightened. She ought to be. Still, I need to settle her.

  I lean over and gently restrain her, pushing her wild limbs down and kneeling on one knee beside her.

  "Stop it," I order.

  She looks at me then out the window and back again, her tear-filled eyes flashing with something I can't quite place, but soon the heated glare is unmistakable. She's pissed, and hell if that doesn't make my cock hard just looking at her.

  She's gorgeous any day. She's stunning when she's angry.

  "Mmmph."

  Kneeling beside her, with my hands at the back of her h
ead on the gag, I instruct her. "I will remove this gag if you promise to do exactly what I say. Do you understand me?"

  She nods wildly.

  I unknot my t-shirt and pull the gag free. She rubs her mouth and looks down, momentarily chastened while waiting for me to free her, though her eyes quickly flash at me again before she schools her features. I quickly unbutton my shirt and pull the slightly damp t-shirt back on, inhaling deeply but turning away from her so she doesn't know how the shirt, permeated with her scent and essence, affects me. I swallow hard, keeping my face stern and immovable.

  "That was awful," she whispers. "I hate when you're mean."

  Oh, no, we are not playing that game.

  I lift her chin and bring her eyes to mine. "That wasn't awful. What you face if you disobey me? That will be awful. We're going into the hotel, and I insist you behave yourself. You speak to no one. You keep your eyes down. You do exactly what I tell you. Am I clear?"

  Those gorgeous, luminous eyes look at me with hurt and anger and something deeper... something molten.

  Fuck.

  But she nods obediently, and I almost believe she's going to behave.

  "Tell me you'll behave, Marissa."

  "Fine," she says in a whisper, then yawns widely. The girl's exhausted.

  "I mean it," I warn, and I fucking do.

  "I know," she says, yawning again. "I'll be good."

  I'm not convinced.

  I chose the smallest, hole-in-the-wall hotel I could find, far less likely to be on the Bratva's map. The car I borrowed is unmarked, untraceable to my father or my brothers. My phone the same. Hers, however... I pull it out of my pocket and frown at it, then shove it back in. I'll have to dispose of it, but it's best if she doesn't know. She won't be too happy about that.

  Walking into a place like this without bags won't draw any attention. This hotel was built for one-night stands. I open the door and gesture for her to go in ahead of me, earning me a heated glare.

  "So now you're the gentleman," she says with an eye-roll.

  "Watch the attitude, little girl." Khristos, my palm itches to spank her feisty little ass.

  She shoots me a mischievous grin.

  Perhaps intimidation isn't the smartest tactic after all, given how she's misbehaved underneath my watchful eyes for years. I decide to try a different approach.