Manumission

Chapter 15

Eva could think of nothing but Ryan.

It was funny, actually. She hadn't thought about him once since she'd been taken. Even when she'd returned to work, his name hadn't entered her mind until she'd smacked directly into his hard torso. But since then, she couldn't get him out of her head.

He knows.

The thought had become a constant, nagging worry. Everyone she worked with had bought her story like it was the latest iPhone. Because Ryan was right: she was a good liar. She'd learned from the best, afterall. But he'd seen past her story in a single, searing glance. It was worse than unnerving. It was uncanny.

It was like he'd lived her life and could detail every sickening second.

A slap brought her back to Michail's bedroom.

"You're tuning out again," he growled, fingers closing around her throat as he drove himself into her with savage force.

She made herself react as her airway was cut off, all the while wishing he would just break her hyoid bone and put her permanently out of her misery. But he was too much of a professional for that. He didn't even give her the respite of unconsciousness, releasing her throat just as vision became fuzzy. She gasped air back in as he assaulted her mouth, hoping her performance was convincing. His already vicious rate sped up and he bit down hard on her lip, climaxing at the sound of her pained yelp.

He laid on top of her for a full minute, lewd groans spilling out from his heaving chest. Finally, he rolled off and snagged her fingers in his, planting a tender kiss on her palm.

"God, you're gorgeous," he murmured as he nuzzled her hair, tucking her against his chest. "You're so pretty when you're in pain. I can't get enough of it."

As abhorrent as being raped was, what came after was almost always worse. Sometimes, Michail decided that she hadn't met his ever-changing expectations and she would be beaten or given to a horde of shestyorka or boevik as a plaything for the rest of the night. Yet far worse were the nights when he wanted to talk.

Tonight seemed to be one of those nights.

"I fucked a lot of girls after you left, but it was never the same," he said, fingertips stroking her arm. "Even before I bought you, sex was never quite right until I fucked you that first time. It was like the world finally made sense."

He kissed her shoulder and she tried not to shudder at the memories of her ten-year-old terror the first time he'd first torn her apart. He was right...it hadn't been the same. She'd been brutally raped by many men before that night, but Michail had been different. He was infinitely, horrifyingly worse.

"It makes me sad when you try to hide from me," he cooed, turning her chin up so he could look in her eyes. She held his gaze steadily, allowing the fear she knew he was looking for to shine in her eyes.

Not that she'd done a good job of concealing it lately, if her conversation with Ryan was any proof.

"First you run away. Then your failed suicide attempt. And now..." His forehead creased with a sad smile. "Is it too much to ask that you stay present when we make love, malen'kiy?"

She knew by his tone that he wanted an answer.

"It's a habit. I'm sorry."

"I'm not a client, Katushka," he tisked like a disapproving teacher. "We're married now, remember?" His eyes twinkled as if they shared an inside joke and he spun the ring around her finger.

It was a thin, gold band, passed down through four generations before it was finally taken from the severed finger of a rival's wife, shortly after they'd cut her into pieces in front of her husband. Michail had told her the story as he'd slid it on her finger, eyes lighting up when she turned pale.