XXX - 145 Enslave: The Taming of the Beast (8 page)

“Get dressed,” he said sharply.
“Dressed?” she echoed nervously. He didn’t look playful, or angry, now. She couldn’t make out
how
he felt. “Why? What are you going to do with me?”
He looked determined. And in agony.
She felt fear, cold and overwhelming.
“Nadia,” he said softly. “I’m taking you back.”

Dominic told himself he was just trying to drive carefully, not bring any attention to himself, especially after the last attack on him down at that bar. But the truth was, he’d never driven this slowly. He was handling the Lexus like he was a little old woman, for God’s sake.
You need to let her go
.
He grimaced, his hands tightening on the leather of the steering wheel until he saw the bone of his knuckles through his skin. He shot a quick glance at Nadia. She was wringing her hands, staring out the window. She looked paler than usual.
“I’d think this would make you happy,” he growled, and then cursed himself.
“What would make me happy?”
“Going home.”
Getting away from me
.
She finally looked at him, hazel eyes lost, wounded. “Why are you taking me back?” she whispered. “What did I do wrong?”
Do wrong?
“You drugged me.”
“I could have killed you,” she pointed out. “I didn’t. I took care of you.”
“I know.”
And that was precisely why he needed to let her go.
They drove in silence for a while longer, and finally she said, “Are you going to kill my family, then? And me?”
“What?”
He didn’t mean to yell, and he hated watching her cringe away from him. He forced himself to lower his voice. “What the hell? No, I’m not killing them
or
you. I’m not killing anyone. I’m just…” He paused. “You know. Returning you.”
God, that sounded like shit.
“Oh.” She didn’t look more pleased with that.
“I swear. I’m not going to hurt anyone.”
“All right.”
He gritted his teeth. “Jesus, Nadia, what do you want from me?” he muttered. She frowned at that, but didn’t respond. “You’ll be back with your family. Maybe you can get a normal life…you know. The husband, all that.”
Even as he said it, the words were distasteful. He didn’t like the idea of Nadia belonging to anyone else, much less whatever rich scumbag her father would probably pick out for her. Hell, he’d probably be doing her a favor by keeping her.
But what would she do to you?
She’d taken care of him. She’d tended his wound. Yes, she’d drugged him—but instead of using his vulnerability to attack him, she’d made sure he was all right. She’d kept watch over him. No one had ever taken care of him, for as long as he could remember. Sex had always been a conquest—either on his part, or the part of the woman seducing him. He’d never gotten close enough to feel he could open up to someone, and now, thanks to a stupid Vicodin, he’d found himself babbling about his past to a woman that could have blown his brains out. The fact that she hadn’t made him wonder what it would be like to open up to her even more.
That was the problem.
The more he kept her with him, the more he found himself wanting. If this kept up, he’d not only be vulnerable, he’d be hopelessly, futilely in love with her. And that would be dangerous for both of them.
What the hell did a man like him have to offer to anyone, much less a noble, passionate, vibrant woman like Nadia?
No. He’d shove her back into the bosom of her family, and let her go. That was the right thing to do. The smart thing.
They pulled off the freeway onto the main roads of Las Vegas. She cleared her throat. “You’re going to want to turn right…”
“I remember,” he said curtly, then sighed when she fell silent yet again. He wove through the streets easily, coming to a stop at the dingy apartment complex. He looked carefully: he knew he hadn’t been followed, doubted that any thugs from the last ill-conceived attempt would have followed him. He’d been sloppy, going to that bar to try and get away from his growing obsession for Nadia, and had missed the cues when the stupid thugs had entered. If he hadn’t had Nadia on his mind, he never would’ve gotten clipped, barely getting out with the stupid, small scratch.
She was making him vulnerable in more ways than one.
Still cursing himself, he moved protectively toward her car door, standing close to her as he scanned the walkways and rooftops.
“You can just leave me here, on the sidewalk,” she said. Her voice was low, almost inaudible.
He should, he realized. But then it would really be over, and his whole body recoiled at the thought. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, would it?” he said instead, putting off the inevitable for a few moments more.
She shot him a wry, sad look. “Of course. I forgot. You’re such a gentleman.” For a split second, she leaned against his arm.
The wave of regret and passion almost drove him to his knees. He grimaced, then nudged her forward. “Maybe I’ll have a little talk with your father, as long as I’m here.”
And make sure that if that old bastard tries to barter her off to anyone, I’ll be really unhappy
.
She looked nervously at him. “Why?”
“I already told you, I’m not going to kill him,” he said, then saw her little grimace. “Okay. I won’t hurt him, either.”
She relaxed visibly. He was irritated that she’d immediately jump to the thought he’d be violent…then realized that, in any other circumstance, she’d probably be right. Besides, as soon as he said differently, she instantly believed him.
When was the last time anyone trusted him?
“I just want to see if he’s had any luck with my goddamned car,” he said instead.
“You never did tell me why it’s so important,” she said, as they walked toward the apartment. “Your personal reasons.”
“I think I’ve told you plenty of personal things lately.”
She accepted the rebuke, her shoulders hunching slightly.
He took a deep breath. What was one more secret, especially now? It wasn’t like it could hurt him.
“It belonged to a guy I knew, once. A man who was really important to me. He gave it to me just before he died.”
“Alexis’s father,” she surmised.
Just the thought made his throat tight. He nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, putting a hand on his arm.
He shrugged, then surprised himself by continuing. “He said he wanted his son to have it, but I was the closest thing he had to one, so…”
She nodded, not saying anything.
Dominic cleared his throat. It was so easy, telling her stuff. So damned easy. He had to get rid of her, quickly, or God knows what he’d turn into.
They got to the door, and she knocked. When he looked at her quizzically, she sent him a crooked little half-smile.
“I left so quickly last time,” she clarified, “I didn’t have my keys or purse, or anything.”
When you took her, she means
. Dominic stared fiercely at the door. No one answered. She knocked harder, cursing softly in Russian under her breath.
“You lookin’ for me, pretty?”
Dominic turned, his hand already reaching for his gun. It was a man, short, his head closely shaved, wearing a wife-beater tank top. His arms sported tattoos from shoulder to wrist. He sent Nadia a cheesy you-know-you-want-me look, sheer pointless bravado.
Dominic took a step between her and the little guy. “Who the hell are you?” Dominic said, his voice low and lethal.
Short Guy took in Dominic’s imposing appearance. The slick smile quickly evaporated. “Hey, man, that’s my door she’s knockin’ on. I’m not trying to start nothing.”
“Your door?” Nadia asked.
“Just moved in,” he said, not taking a step closer. He kept shooting nervous glances at Dominic. “Landlord said the last family moved out in a hurry. If you’re looking for them, hey, I don’t even know them. Never met, and don’t want any trouble, got it?”
“No,” Dominic said. “No trouble.”
“They just…left?”
Nadia sounded stunned. Bereft. She leaned against Dominic unconsciously, and it was all he could do not to envelope her in his arms and bring her back to the car.
Instead, he noted clinically: “They just vanished. Didn’t expect you to ever come back.”
“It’s not like they could send me a forward address,” she said sharply, but he could see the way her mind was racing. She was probably busy trying to justify what they’d done. The bottom line was, their first thought had been to cover their own asses, and screw whatever happened to Nadia.
Dominic felt anger at their betrayal on her behalf.
“They abandoned you,” he snarled.
“No,” she corrected quickly. “My stepmother is pregnant. My father was keeping her and the baby safe. For all they knew, you were going to come back and kill them.”
Now the bald-headed guy was holding his hands up, backing away. “Definitely don’t want any trouble,” he muttered. “You just work your shit out. I’ll come back later.” He bolted.
Dominic was quiet for a moment, then he cleared his throat. “What do you think you’ll do now?”
She bit her full lower lip. He wanted to do the same, to her. “I’ll think of something.”
“You don’t have any cash,” he reminded her.
“I’ll call…my sister. Jelena,” she finally said, even though her brow still furrowed slightly.
“You don’t have a cell.”
“I’ll call collect,” she said stubbornly.
“And what will happen when you call her?” he said, in what he thought was a logical tone of voice. “You’re going to tell her that you need help? That the big bad Beast is done with you?”
“What do you care?” she snapped. “You’re the one who’s getting rid of me!”
He smiled. “No, I don’t think so. Not now.”
“What?” She looked floored.
He grabbed her arm, relief singing through him like a choir. “Bringing you back was a mistake, obviously. Your family only looks out for number one…except for you, anyway. You’ve got the survival instincts of a lemming, for Christ’s sake.”
“So you’re, what? Saving me?” she said, yanking her arm away from him. “You
pity
me now?”
“Nadia…”
“Fuck you!”
She started to stomp away, and he grabbed her, pulling her to him hard. His side screamed, his stitches straining.
“I don’t fucking pity you,” he whispered sharply in her ear, holding her captive. “I can’t describe what I feel for you, but trust me, pity isn’t it.”
She melted against him, resistance and anger replaced with a tender confusion. “Then why?” She gestured at the dingy apartment complex. “Why bring me back here at all?”
He took a deep breath.
What can I tell her? That I can’t breathe without wanting her? That the fact that she trusts me makes me want to never let her go? That I’m afraid of losing her? That I’m afraid of her hating me?
Nothing. He couldn’t tell her anything at all.
Instead, he kissed her, hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself tight against him. When he finally pulled away, she was still expectant.
“Stop asking questions.”
He took her back to the car. She remained silent the entire ride home, although the question—
why did you try to get rid of me, only to keep me?
—still hung in the air. Tension sang through his muscles, and his side ached. He could feel her gaze on his features, not in the grotesque, sideshow staring way that most indulged in. It was as if she were
willing
him to answer her question.
“Stop staring at me,” he said finally, unable to handle the sensation of it.
“No.”
He turned away from the road to look at her, head on. She didn’t wince, didn’t waver. Her eyes were bright, beautiful.
“Fine. Look all you damned well want.”
He drove like a demon, and they got back to his house in record time, nothing like the first portion of this little joyride. He drove up to the gates with a barely held impatience, his body getting more and more tense.
More aroused.
She would still be there. He wasn’t doing the smart thing, definitely wasn’t doing the right thing.
But she would still be there
.
He pulled into the garage, killing the engine, getting out. He walked around the car, opening her door for her. He expected her to lay into him: interrogate him, or maybe offer him more justifications for her family’s cowardice.
Instead, she jumped for him, clamping her hands onto his shoulders, kissing him with all the confusion and passion and frustration, all the sadness and anger, every emotion roiling through her system. He could taste her tears as well as feel the heat of her, practically singeing him.
He groaned in response, crushing her against the side of his car. His stitches were probably torn to hell and gone, but he didn’t care. His mouth never left hers as he kissed her fiercely, savoring her taste, needing to feel her, reassuring himself that she was still there and still his and she wasn’t going anywhere.
He reached down, and he felt her hands there, helping him, fumbling with his belt, undoing his fly before tearing at her own. She was wearing the jeans she’d worn the night he brought her here. She scratched her skin in her haste, tearing off her jeans. He yanked down his pants and reached for her hips, bringing her up against him, guiding her legs around his waist as he positioned his cock at her warm, wet opening. Before he could breathe, he plunged inside her, roaring with the pleasure and the relief of the wash of sensations.
It was fast, insanely fast. He felt her pussy shiver against the hot flesh of his cock, suckling him, squeezing him. She clutched at him, driving her hips against his, her thighs clenching tightly at his pelvis. She kissed him like a woman possessed as he pumped against her, rocking against the hard, hot metal of the car beneath them. She made mewling noises of pleasure, her breathing choppy and harsh, crying out in pain and passion as he drove himself inside her. She bit his lower lip gently, and he swept his tongue forward, mating it with hers. His hips pistoned against hers, wanting to get closer to her, as close as humanly possible.
She punctuated her first orgasm with a scream against his lips, her nails scratching against the fabric of his jacket. She was still trembling and clutching against him when his orgasm tore through him. His hips shook and rattled as the hot spurt of cum burst inside her, filling her.
He collapsed, having only the sense to turn, cradling her against him as he breathed hard, pulling her away from the car before he crushed her. Holding her tightly, he found himself stroking her hair, pressing hot, soft kisses against the crown of her head.
In that moment, he realized: he was keeping her. No matter what. Her family didn’t know what they’d given up, but he did. He knew what he’d almost lost.
If he just kept her here, hidden from his past, hidden from the world…maybe, just maybe, he’d have a chance at keeping her.