Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Let her go,” he tells me with deceptive calm.
“But she’s trying to kill you.”
“Take the knife away and release her.”
Slowly, I loosen my hold, then instantly make for the knife and hold it behind my back to be sure.
The girl, Karina, jumps at him, face red, and starts cursing in a stream of unintelligible words.
She does sound American when speaking in English. So did his brother and mother earlier. In fact, so does Kirill sometimes. They’re really Russian royalty in the States.
“You grew up, Kara,” he says in a weird affectionate tone that I’ve never heard before.
She punches him in the chest. “No thanks to you, asshole, jerk, fucking bastard. I was praying you would die every day. Why did you come back alive?”
“Cat with nine lives?”
“Go die. I hate you, I hate you!!”
“I know,” he says with superhuman understanding and strokes her shoulder. “Would you hate me any less if I told you Father died?”
“Fuck you and him!” She kicks him in the leg, then stomps in the direction she came from.
Then she turns around and points a finger at me, then at her red wrist. “You’re gonna pay for this, you stupid motherfucker!”
Then she’s out.
That little—
I’m about to give the psycho a piece of my mind when Kirill steps in front of me and, as if sensing my thoughts, he shakes his head. “She’s mentally unwell. Don’t mind her.”
“Did you forget the part where she was trying to kill you? If she’s mentally unwell, maybe she should be admitted to a psych ward.”
“She’s not violent…except for the incident just now.”
“No shit.”
I inspect the cut on his arm, and my hands get soaked with blood. It’s a huge gash that slashes through some of his tattoos. “This will definitely need stitches. If you could remove me so easily, you could’ve blocked her attack, too.”
“I could’ve, huh?”
“You totally could, but you chose not to. Why?”
“She needed to get that one in, or her anger wouldn’t have subsided.”
“You’re really…weird.”
“Makes two of us.”
I clear my throat. “Is there a doctor in this place? There must be with all the houses and departments. Can’t you ask him to look at this—”
My words are cut off when a warm finger traces the pale skin near the pulse point of my throat. He’s stroking the injury, I realize. “Next time, when something like this happens, do not, under any circumstances, put your life in jeopardy for me.”
I try to swallow, but it’s stuck, just like my breathing. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do as a bodyguard?”
“No. There are always better solutions that don’t include being a martyr.”
“I…wasn’t trying to be one.”
“Really, now?”
My lips part, and my train of thought flies out the window because his finger has moved up. He’s fully exploring my throat now, tracing, touching, and leaving an inferno of goosebumps in his wake.
I can’t for the life of me focus on anything other than his sensually dark touch. The feel of his skin on mine is forbidden yet so addictive. So raw. So…wrong.
“You were ready to allow yourself to be stabbed in the same shoulder that’s injured because you were playing the martyr. That business won’t happen again, am I understood?”
“No.”
“No?” The edge in his voice would send anyone running, including me, but I have to put my foot down about this.
“I don’t understand how Viktor and the others claim to be your guards while allowing your so-called family members to attack you. Whatever the reason, I’m not like them. You hired me to be your bodyguard, and I intend to do my job to the fullest.”
“Sasha…” It’s a warning laced with an unspoken threat. His icy eyes shimmer with the hint of danger that’s part of who he is.
He’s a cold, emotionless man who doesn’t seem to care about the danger he brought on himself the moment he stepped foot in his house.
No wonder he chose freezing Russia over this.
He might be emotionless, but I’m not. Kirill has saved my life more than once, and I’m simply not going to stand by when his own life is in danger.
“Yes, sir?”
“Drop the innocent tone, and don’t fuck with me.” His hand flexes on my throat.
I have this weird sensation that I’m caught in the web of a lethal spider. No, maybe I’m trapped in the lion’s den.
“What did I tell you before I agreed to bring you with me?”
“My life is yours.” I speak without difficulty, but I can feel his hand on my throat with every word.
“That’s right. It’s mine.” He digs his thumb into my pulse point. “So when I tell you not to throw it away, you fucking listen.”
“I won’t. If you’re not in danger.”
I can see the shadow falling over his features, and I’m not sure if he’ll snap my neck or squeeze it to death.
For a moment, he goes for the second. His grip tightens, and I’m robbed of oxygen in a swift movement.