Darker Than Love Read online Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls (Darker Than Love #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Darker Than Love Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
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She tenses, then remains frozen in a strange kind of limbo, not rejecting the jacket but also not truly accepting it by pulling it tighter around her. It annoys me, because she’s shivering, though the place is cozy enough. To humor Mina, I’ve chosen a restaurant I’ve never been, someplace where I don’t have a history with a woman. I wanted this to be nice, but all of my good intentions flew out the window the minute I opened my big mouth. And now the atmosphere is strained, even more so than earlier, when I showed Mina that photo. Her reaction wasn’t what I expected. I thought she’d be grateful I took care of one of her assailants. Instead, her face turned as white as the wall, and she clammed up, turning away without a word.

I don’t know what about that picture got her so bothered, but if she thought I’d let those fuckers walk around with no cares in the world, she doesn’t know me at all. First, they’ll suffer. Then, they’ll die.

But my thoughts are regressing. We were talking about her not needing a doctor. I was thinking about her frequent lack of appetite. That photo did pop up in my mind, but it wasn’t what spoiled her appetite. Yes, the sight of the ugly bastard’s mashed-up face wasn’t pretty, but she’s used to seeing that, and worse. There’s something else, something more she’s hiding from me.

I never thought I’d need her trust, but I do. I want it like I want her body. I want everything. I can’t stand the thought of her keeping anything from me. She wants me. She’s wanted me from the start. Baring her body to me has never been an issue. It’s baring her heart that’s the problem.

The more I think about what she’s withholding, the more I lose my own appetite. The silence stretches. I’ve never wanted her to talk as badly as I do now, but I don’t know how to breach this quiet standoff.

When our meal arrives, we both push the food around on our plates. This is unfamiliar terrain. I know how to make a woman’s body sing, how to make her scream, but I’ve never tried to coax one into talking. Fuck, I’ve never had the urge to listen to any woman before. As much as I hate to admit it, this is where Ilya is better skilled. He’d know how to do it, but I can’t fucking ask him for help knowing he still wants to get into Mina’s pants.

By the time I get the bill, I’m so wound up with frustration and so torn up about how to handle the situation, I feel like a zip line stretched between two trees. Mina doesn’t speak to me in the car. She doesn’t talk in the shower or when I fuck her six ways from Sunday in bed. She moans and gasps and makes all the right sounds, but how I’m making her body feel is no longer all I want to know. I don’t know when exactly it happened.

I only know it’s no longer enough.

26

Yan

Long after Mina has fallen asleep, I’m still lying awake in the dark, beating myself up about how the evening turned out. There’s only one remedy for getting rid of pent-up frustration. I have to take it out on someone else.

Another photo waited on my phone when we got back after dinner, the men I’ve hired carrying out their job promptly.

Two down, nine to go.

I sneak out of our room and close the door so I won’t disturb Mina. Then I wake Anton quietly. Ilya’s snores remain steady as Anton grabs his pants and follows me into the lounge.

“What’s up?” he asks, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair.

“We’re going to Hungary.”

He gives me a disgruntled look. “Again?”

“You’re flying.”

I pull on my jacket and head for the door. Anton curses softly, jumping around to fit his pants. He takes his trench coat from the back of the sofa and dons it over the T-shirt he’d been sleeping in.

“Hurry.” I want to be back before Mina or Ilya wake up in the morning. Once we’re on the landing and the door is locked behind us, I ask, “How fast can you get our plane ready?”

“It’s already on standby at the private airfield.”

I head for the stairs. “Let’s go.”

“What’s going on?” he asks, running to catch up.

Pulling up the collar of my jacket against the cool bite in the night air, I check the message on my phone as I walk down the street to where the rental is parked. The men I hired are being clear about why they’re beating up the scum who served with Mina, and the two who’ve been beaten would’ve called their cronies to let them know what’s happening. That’s good. I want them to know what’s coming. Even if they go into hiding, I’ll sniff them out.


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