I have a secret.
I need a savior; someone who can help me be free.
I never expected to meet the strong, stubborn Russian- Tate Masterson.
After my past, I should avoid him, not crave him.
I’m the dirty side of Mafiya. One thing about being the leader of the Bratva, I always get what I want, her included. I’m corrupted; don’t expect me to play fair.
I never imagined I’d be grateful to be traded to the Bratva. To be awarded a new beginning, once I’m given to Nikoli. I’m already in love with him, but can he look past our friendship and return my love?
One hot encounter with a feisty Italian, leaves this quiet Russian panting for more.
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“Ready beautiful?” Chek inquires like I’m privy to have some sort of choice about it and my skin crawls.
If I never hear that pet name again, it would still be too soon. How can I possibly be beautiful after being trapped here and living like this? No, not living; at this point I’m simply existing.
He cuts away what’s left of the back of my thin, cami undershirt and washes an area on my back with a rough dish pad and then pats it dry. I have no idea what he plans to do; it could be a tattoo or he could be stealing my organs. Nothing would really surprise me anymore. I just know that one will hurt remarkably more than the other.
“Yes, Mr. Chek,” I respond automatically and feel the tip of something sharp on my back.
“You’re getting your mark Sabrina. It means that if you stay on track, once it heals you get to see Kolya. He will be very pleased with how tame you’ve become.”
“Thank you.” I gasp out as the sharp blade digs further into my flesh. The ripping sensation of skin and meat making me hold my breath to keep myself from retching what little is left in my stomach.
The tears come and I suck on my bottom lip until it hurts to keep myself from crying out. His deathly grip on my side keeps me from twitching away. Although as much as it hurts, I know he could drive that blade into my back at any time and it keeps me still.
“Ah, the mark of belonging to a Minski.” He sounds almost as if he’s in a lustful trance as the blood drips down my naked back. I feel something wet wipe one of the long drops off, and I’m trying hard not to believe it was just his tongue.
A tiny whimper escapes as the blade goes in a little too deep, my nose clogs and I wonder if this may be it. If I’ll somehow suffocate myself.
I’ll never belong to a Minski.