Serpentine Desires

The predator

Hell's own kiss burned softer than the fire in my hands as I carried her limp body from the flames. And she thought she could escape me.

The smoke wrapped around us but I didn't give two flying fucks. My eyes narrowed, scanning her face, her parted lips and bruised body. For him. She'd run from me, cowered like some fucking pathetic bird, all for that bastard.

A low snarl rumbled in my chest. How many times would I have to teach her? How many times would I have to break her to make her see she was mine?

I glanced down at her too furious at the sight. My little traitor. My delinquent and yet... my desire. An ache pulsed through my chest, one I didn't ask for and didn't fucking want. How could she make me feel both fury and this sick, twisted sense of possession? I clenched my fists, fingers digging into her arms, reminding myself she was here now because I'd dragged her back.

That she wasn't going anywhere.

Only I knew what type of hell and anger I felt seeing her here. I expected Anya to be here, but my little bird, never. I knew she was meeting Lucius behind my back, only because I wanted to see the lengths she'd go to. And my ptichka had surprised me.

If it wasn't for the tracker I put in her phone. Files on me? As if she could find anything.

And Anya. She'd snarled and spat back, like the ungrateful wretch she was, as if I hadn't gone out of my way to fix her mess, to handle the loose ends she couldn't manage herself. It was her own fault she'd dragged me into this. What the fuck was she even doing in Russia? She and this damned little troublemaker Lucius wanted dead. Anya could stew in her precious rage. I had my own to tend to. 

And I'd make sure she'd be grounded back in Italy for her entire life.

My gaze shifted back to the unconscious face resting in my arms, and a dark, wretched part of me hissed that she'd earned her punishment, that she deserved every scar I'd leave on her soul. But even so, something twisted in my gut, something that made me want to snap her neck and shield her all at once. What fucking sorcery was this? I could raze people with my fists. And yet, with her...

I grit my teeth, my pulse hammered and my mind clouded with visions of what I'd do to the next fool who laid a finger on her. I'd already made that mistake once. I wouldn't let any other man have that pleasure. If they so much as looked, I'd remind them just who the hell she belonged to. And now, here she was, her sweater torn and baring her skin to the cold, the scent of fear still lingering on her skin like a goddamned invitation. She was practically begging me to kill someone.

I let out a scornful laugh. "What do you think, little bird?" I murmured, knowing she couldn't hear me. "Did you think you'd run from me? That some random knight would come and pluck you from my claws?" I traced a finger along her jaw, barely touching, feeling that familiar heat of fury flaring up again. "You're a fool," I hissed, wanting to put my lips on her mouth and remind myself she was here, with me. "a pretty, damned fool."

I moved toward the cars where my men stood glancing uneasily at the fire crackling behind me. But one glare had them averting their gazes. Let them be unsettled. Let them feel the wrath of what I'd do if they failed me, as I wouldn't fail her.

Anya rolled her eyes. This fucking fool would answer to father now. A grumble slipped past her lips. I met her glare with one of my own. "Save your words for Father, one word and I'll strangle you myself."

Her glower was a dare, that defiant gleam as she tossed her hair back. Christ, she looked so damn much like Tina. "You're not saying anything to Papa," she sneered, but I caught the flash of fear there, tucked under that sharp tone. She was scared our father would keep her locked in her cage.