Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Seeing the cuts and scrapes on Santino’s fingertips while he grabbed his wine, or the way he winced from the movement because of two fractured ribs—or even the swollen bottom lip that seemed to tease me across the table.
It was sexy.
He was sexy.
In a way that was violent and should be traumatic to me. Instead, I couldn’t take my eyes away from him.
That blood represented him shielding me.
That blood was protection and war all in one.
That blood was me.
Even when he could have easily left me in that gym and showered the blood from his body, he decided to stay and help me fight—with every wince he sent my way, I fell a little bit deeper under his spell.
Which was the exact opposite of what I should have been doing or even thinking about. He’s off-limits. I’m off-limits. And while the sex was incredible, I had this strange fear that if he let me in, or worse, if I let him in, it was not just going to be sex anymore; it was going to be something that would be hard to pull back from.
Plus, he had a fiancée, albeit one he hated, under his arranged marriage. It still felt wrong to be with him.
I needed to keep my guard up as much as possible; he was training me in all ways carnal and physical. I would learn to use my body as a weapon, and he was willing to provide the instruction, so what if I was going to find some pleasure? Who wouldn’t?
But he was helping me get my power back; that’s all this was, all this would ever be.
“Katya?” Andrei was sitting at the head of a suddenly very quiet table. Had he been calling my name for a while?
“Yes?” I set my fork down and folded my hands in my lap.
Nixon coughed next to me.
Shit.
Andrei’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
I glanced at Santino for help, he lifted his wine glass. “That’s what happens when you learn how to fight from the best; you get concussions, right, Katya?”
I glared.
“Anyway…” He lifted his glass in a toast. “Salud, to the newest member that gets to undergo scary as hell training.”
I raised my glass. “I think I can take it.”
“Already did,” Santino said.
I kicked him under the table before remembering that he was injured. He clenched his teeth and exhaled in pain.
Yeah, I’d pay for that later.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Andrei leaned over and whispered, placing his hand on mine. “I said your name four times after Nixon asked you to make a toast.”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Just super tired. The training wasn’t as easy as it looked, he drove me really hard.”
I smiled sweetly at Santino, who choked on his next sip of wine.
“That’s completely normal, Katya.” Andrei nodded. “But you need to let him drive you as hard as he can, over and over, until you come.” He dropped his fork.
Santino’s eyes were so comically wide that I almost burst out laughing.
“Where was I?” Andrei grabbed his fork again.
“Getting driven hard until I come—” I shrugged. “And then you dropped your fork.”
“Yes.” He pointed his fork at me again. “Until you come to understand the importance of pain over everything else. You have to bear it. Bear him. Do you understand?”
“I think she gets it.” Santino cleared his throat.
I nodded sweetly. “I’ll try my best.”
“Good girl.”
Hm. Maybe it was time to finally be bad.
Everything was fine one minute, and the very next, the dining room windows shattered, glass flew everywhere, along with the silverware and chunks of fine white china. I was too shocked to do anything but just sit there until Santino dove over the table and slammed me into the floor.
Gunshots exploded so loud that I couldn’t think; my ears were buzzing despite my trying to cover them.
I’m sure it lasted only a few seconds. His body pressed me against the hardwood floor, one arm behind my head, as the other reached for his gun. Still shielding me, he turned sideways and started firing off shots, the rest of the men not far behind him. But he was doing something I didn’t expect; while still protecting me, he was completely bare to any bullets that could whiz by him. The rest of the men had different pieces of furniture that had fallen in front of them; the wives weren’t much different. They all had guns.
Seriously. Everyone had guns.
They were just as intense as the guys, and while looking around me, seeing the bravery and anger in their faces—even with one of them being pregnant, I realized that no matter the trauma.
I had to face the pain.
The gunshots ended.
Spent shells were everywhere. Who had a shotgun?
Tex dropped a pump-action long gun onto the table, laid his hands down on it then spoke in a loud voice. “Who?”