In the movies, the heroine usually woke in a cell and could wail about her fate while gripping the bars of her window.
In reality, Anja woke tied to a chair, needing to pee, with something cottony stuffed in her mouth. The gag wasn’t as disturbing as the white gown billowing around her legs, legs she could only kick. A futile gesture since all it did was cause a ruffling wave effect in the crinoline.
Who the hell wore crinoline? Add to that the horrendous gown had an awful fit that strained over her breasts and gaped at the back—not by design, she’d wager. The dress appeared made for someone smaller. More disturbing than the wearing of someone else’s clothes, though?
Someone dressed me. Not just any dress. They had the nerve to put her in taffeta.
What was the problem with denim? Did no one believe in letting a woman wear comfortable jeans?
Then again, this was her wedding day, or so the man in the tuxedo seemed to indicate as he stopped in front of her. Tall and reed thin, with a hairline that had receded past the point of return, she recognized his hawkish nose. The ever-annoying Sergei. Just the man she was looking for. Of course, when she’d imagined this moment, she was usually straddling him with a knife at his throat and a knee in his man parts.
But the day was young. Or was it late? She had no idea how long she’d spent knocked out after those thugs accosted her in the woods.
“About time you woke.” He had the nerve to look annoyed that his drugs had worked. “We can begin.”
Begin? The thought didn’t even fully percolate before hands gripped her chair on either side and lifted, carrying them both to the front of the church, past wood pews, their empty rows polished and lacquered a dark gleaming brown. Stained-glass windows filtered in daylight, illuminating the space in a rainbow.
They’d brought her to a church. A holy place, and despite apparently being descended from the disciples of Satan—both her grandparents deserving of an award for their subterfuge—Anja didn’t burst into flame. Neither did the guy waiting impatiently at the altar.
Personally, if Sergei was in a rush, he should have chosen someone other than the decrepit old man in the cassock who wavered on his feet behind the altar. She was pretty sure the priest was almost asleep, hard to tell with those bushy white brows.
If Anja were naïve, she’d expect this man of God to show some concern that the blushing bride was bound and gagged, but without even the slightest glance in her direction, he instead made the sign of the cross and began the marriage ceremony in Russian, using the slowest cadence she’d ever heard.
And she meant slow, enough that she glanced around and cataloged the old church. It was empty if she discounted Sergei and his two men. Given he’d sent more guards than this to kidnap her, she surmised he had more of them stationed outside.
How brazen of him to kidnap her from her grandfather’s property. Her own fault for stalking off alone after finding out about her grandmother and the lies.
So many lies.
Did the fact that babushka was a Tygrov mean she had more family on her mother’s side? Her grandmother had always claimed she was the only family Anja had left, but it turned out her word was worth shit.
People all around her lied. Cole doesn’t. He had a bluntness to him that she appreciated. He didn’t hide what he thought. Or felt.
And he feels something for me. He wouldn’t allow her to remain a prisoner of this asshat.
At any moment she expected Cole to come riding to the rescue. No, he wouldn’t ride in like a hero. He’d find that emasculating. He’d come in guns blazing. Except, he didn’t have a gun on him that she knew of. But he could probably get one.
Then again, why get a gun when he could turn into a bear and maul anyone in his way? Such a big, shaggy beast with thick, lush fur, impressive strength, and—
“Are we boring you?” Fingers snapped in front of her eyes.
She cocked her head and tried to tell Sergei an eloquent fuck-off with her eyes. Apparently he’d prefer to hear it, as he tugged the gag from her mouth.
If he expected her to beg or plead, he’d wait a long time. “Untie me.”
“Later. First, you will say ‘I do.’ Make it loud and clear. It’s being recorded.”
“Bite me.”
“Oh, I will bite you, among other things. A bitch like you must be put in her place. And I will record it so that I have all my proof the marriage was consummated. But first, you will say ‘I do.’”
She leaned forward. “Fuck.” She smiled. “You.”
“I’ve had enough of your antics.” Sergei’s lips peeled back over his teeth, teeth sharper than they should be. His arm reeled back, and she noted his nails elongating into claws. Another shape-shifter? What the hell? First her neighbors, then Cole, and supposedly her grandpa. Now this twerp?
His hand turned furry, not that the soft layer would matter since the claws on his mutant hand would probably cause some damage. He started to bring his arm forward, except his hand never connected because it developed a perfect coin-sized hole. It took only a moment before the blood began to stream and the screaming started. Not by her, of course. She laughed.
Her bear had arrived. With a gun. She was only a little disappointed he hadn’t brought out the bear.
“Who dares?” Sergei yelled, spittle flying as he held his wounded hand to his chest.
“I dare.” Cole vaulted down from the balcony on the upper level, landing with knees bent, his eyes never leaving them. “You know, I was willing to let you marry her, but I have to draw the line at hitting.”
“You meddle with things you shouldn’t.”
“No, you touched someone you shouldn’t have. She’s mine.”
“I am,” she confided to Sergei. “He licked me.”
“My men will kill you,” shouted the other man as he backed away.
“Yeah, about your guards.” Cole shrugged. “They’re kind of dead, which you really should thank me for because they sucked at their jobs. I mean, none of them even saw me coming. Then again, few people ever know I’m there. Just like you never knew I was watching almost right overhead.”
She blinked as his words filtered. “If you killed them all, then what were you waiting for to rescue me? I was like only an ‘I do’ away from marrying him.”
“I know. I was watching the whole thing and then Ser-dick had to pull a dumb move and try to slap you. He just couldn’t wait until the priest was done.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You were going to let me marry him?”
Cole rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, I was going to. Unlike your crafty grandpa, douche bag over here doesn’t have a will. He’s a straight inheritance case, enough for an island I’ve been eyeing.”
“Hold on. Let me see if I understand. You were going to let me wed him and then what, kill him and marry me?”
“I see you understand the brilliance of my plan.”
“I can’t believe you would let me marry someone else.”
“For money.”
“That does not improve my state of mind.”
“How about the fact I gave up the money so he wouldn’t slap you?”
“Poor financial decision. He was too weak to really hurt me.”
His brows rose to an impressive height. “Are you now berating me for not letting you be slapped? Should I perhaps, next time, just stand by and allow him a few little taps? Maybe give him some pointers?”
“How about you stick to your original plan. There’s still time for us to get married and widowed. Grab him before he escapes.”
Perhaps another girl would have wasted time asking Cole how he’d found her, or was he serious about marrying her? Except … none of those things mattered.
He’d come, ergo he wanted her. He also left her tied to a chair as he took off after Sergei. Since being a damsel who waited for rescue didn’t appeal, Anja wobbled in the chair, tilted it right over until it fell and hit the stone floor.
The sturdy chair didn’t break. Her arm, on the other hand, would sport a lovely bruise.
Uttering a frustrated growl, she thrust with her legs, seesawing and thrashing, trying to loosen her ropes.
She finally managed and stood with a triumphant, “Aha.”
Only to find a gun jammed in her face.