5

LISSA tilted her head back, but she didn’t release Casimir’s cock. The head was so soft, like velvet, broad and flared, and he tasted delicious. Salty, but unique. She couldn’t quite figure out how when everything she’d read told her some women didn’t like the taste. Maybe the taste varied from man to man, but whatever, she wasn’t letting Casimir take over until she was done. And she wasn’t done.

She looked up at him and drew him a little deeper. Suckled. Watched his eyes grow even darker with lust. He liked what she was doing. She might not know exactly what to do, but her instincts and all the books she’d read gave her a few clues. Lust mixed with emotions she couldn’t name blazed in the shocking silver of his eyes. She loved that look. That passion she’d kept locked up for so long answered that look. She felt it rise in her even more.

She loved the taste and shape of him. The steel spike under all that soft skin. She loved to run her tongue along that throbbing vein and tease the underside of the head with her tongue so she could feel him pulse hotly in her mouth. She really loved the way his fingers curled in her hair, forming two tight fists while he held her head in position without forcing it down over him. She loved that his hips seemed to thrust without his consent. Shallow, but with enough insistence that she knew he could take over at any moment, but he chose not to.

Staring into his eyes, she sucked him deeper, sliding her mouth around him, getting used to his girth. It wasn’t easy, but Lissa never backed down when she wanted something, and seeing the look in his eyes, feeling the nearly helpless movement of his hips, she wanted this more than she wanted most things. For herself. For him. Because neither one of them ever had anything real. For her, this was the real woman giving something to the real man. She wanted him to understand that. This was for Casimir Prakenskii and not one of the many roles he played.

The silver in his eyes went molten. His face darkened. The lust grew stronger, but so did those emotions. She’d touched the real man, not the fake ones, and she knew it. Reveled in it. He didn’t pull away from her, but tightened his hold in her hair.

“Get the shaft very wet, golubushka, use your tongue and saliva. That will help.” He removed one hand from her hair to wrap around her fist, showing her the movement. “Keep your mouth tight as you work my cock, but Lissa, I’m not coming in your mouth or on you, not this time, I want inside you, so when I say to stop, I want you to stop.”

There was steel in his voice. His will was steel. She wanted to smile around the length and girth of him because he didn’t yet know that there was steel in her. She gave in because she wanted to, never because someone forced her to. He’d been forged in the fires of hell, but in a way, so had she. They matched. She knew that. She hadn’t wanted or expected to feel for him like she did. She hadn’t known it was possible to forge a bond so strong so fast when she knew next to nothing about him. Still, it was there. And she was giving them both a gift. Making them both real people, not the fake roles they normally lived their lives in.

She followed his instructions, using her tongue, her saliva, to spread moisture up and down his hard shaft. Her fist followed and then she took him into her mouth again. She loved having him there. Owning him. She did own him like this. He gave himself up to her and she had all the power in those heady moments.

She suckled, hollowed her cheeks, and each time she slid her mouth down over him in time to the rhythm of her fist, she took him deeper. Her jaws became used to the width of him while her mouth loved the feel and taste of him. His hand left hers to resume the fist in her hair and suddenly everything changed.

His hands took control of her head, forcing her a little lower. She would have gone on her own, but he didn’t wait that half second and the action surprised her. She nearly lost the rhythm, but he didn’t push her down too far and she tightened her mouth, hearing him groan. The sound was amazing. Perfect. Real. The feel of him in her mouth was real.

He took over the pace, making it a little faster, going a little deeper, his hips taking control when he held her head there.

“Harder, Lissa. Suck harder.” His eyes closed for a brief moment and then he had to see that beautiful, incredible sight. Her fantasy lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes caressing him as her mouth pleasured him. “Chertovski krasivaya,” he swore in Russian, his voice guttural. “That’s it, malyshka, that’s perfect.”

She kept her gaze fixed on his. The look in his eyes sent red-hot streaks straight to her core. Her temperature soared along with her need. The more drops spilled into her mouth, the more she craved. Mostly, she craved that look. She knew she was giving him something he’d never had before. Women had most definitely sucked his cock for him, she wasn’t his first, but from the genuine look on his face, she knew this was the first real time. His reaction to her wasn’t a practiced art. It was all real. As his hips thrust, she took him deeper, feeling the solid length of him, not coming close to all of him, but he touched the back of her throat and was gone. She didn’t want him to go. She used her tongue, curling and dancing, flattening it to stroke hard and then sucking even harder, trying to relax enough to take him deeper.

Abruptly, his hands gripped her with a fierce determination and he forced her head up and off of him. She heard herself moan softly, not wanting to let go. “I wasn’t finished,” she pointed out. “You taste so good, Casimir. I think I’m already addicted.”

Casimir walked her backward until her knees hit the bed. All the while she kept her fist wrapped tight around his cock, and the action nearly sent him over the edge. He had never been this close to the edge of his control.

“This is mine,” she said, her chin going up in a challenge. “You’re taking away something that belongs to me.”

“Temporarily,” he said. “I’m only taking it away temporarily.” He could make his home there in her mouth. She was beautiful. Defiant. Challenging him. He loved a good challenge, and his woman was about to see what he was capable of. “I want to eat you up. Devour you. Like honey. Like candy. You had your fun and now it’s my turn.”

Lust consumed him. Emotions he hadn’t known himself capable of. For the first time in his life, he knew exactly who he was. Casimir Prakenskii was a real man and he had his woman there with him, wiping out every ugly thing in his past. Making him whole again. Filling that emptiness in him with her gift.

His body burned for hers. His mouth watered for the taste of her. His palms itched—both of them, needing her soft skin under them. Even his fingertips pulsed with a terrible ache. His cock raged at him. Raged. Genuine and hungry. That need so elemental, so primitive he felt savage. He told himself to go slow, that this time had to be for her. An assault on her senses, building her need until it was every bit as brutal as his own. He wanted this time to be perfect for her, and he had the feeling that stretching her so he could fit would take a little finessing. Still, she was made for him or his mark wouldn’t be there, ready to be branded deep into her cells.

His body shuddered with need. He caught at her small waist and tugged her to him, bending his head so he could take her mouth with his. He wasn’t as gentle as he’d been the first time, kissing her over and over, making demands, giving himself up to her fire, allowing it to pour down his throat straight to his heart like red-hot magma.

He knew what he was doing taking her inside like that. Letting that slow, thick lava fill every hole, every gap, seal his emptiness with her. He did so willingly. Let her enslave him. Let her claim him. Because he had every intention of doing the same with her. She owned his cock. She also owned the rest of him. He didn’t care how it happened; he was grateful it could happen. He had forgotten how to feel, and now emotions were there, genuine, overwhelming him.

He took her mouth gently this time, tender even. “I need to know if you’re on birth control. If you’re protected. I’m clean, I always make certain.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers still claiming his heavy erection. She nodded to let him know she was safe.

He kissed her over and over and then let his mouth drift down her throat to the upper curves of her breasts. “You’re going to have to give me back my cock while you take off your skirt, golubushka. I need your body.”

He leaned into her, forcing her back to bend slightly so his hands held her up. At the same time, her breasts thrust upward invitingly. She had beautiful breasts, full and round, high above her narrow rib cage and small waist. Her hips flared out. She was toned, keeping herself in good shape, probably because of the work she did. Regardless, he reaped the benefits of her body.

“I don’t think so.”

He loved that she was reluctant to drop her hand away from him. Her thumb continued to make lazy circles on the broad crown while her fist pulled up and down in a long, leisurely slide that kept his erection rigid and aching with brutal need.

“You give me no choice but to tear it off you.” He murmured the warning against her nipple. Licked. Felt her ragged breath. Kissed. Used his lips to brush back and forth. “I don’t mind, honey, but if you love that skirt, I wouldn’t want to mess it up for you. Don’t forget the underwear if you want those as well.” It was the only warning he would give her. His mouth settled over her breast, sucked hard, and he used the edge of his teeth for the first time to test her reaction to a bite of pain mixing with the pleasure.

She gasped. Cried out. Her blue eyes went hot with excitement. She pushed closer to him to thrust her breast more fully into his mouth. Offering him more. Yeah, his woman liked that.

She let loose of his shaft, one reluctant finger at a time to drop her hands to her skirt obediently. He moved between her breasts, feeding. Suckling. Using his tongue and teeth to drive her higher. The skirt pooled at her feet and she stepped out, kicking it aside. The moment she did, he took her down to the bed, flat on her back, coming down over top of her.

He didn’t waste any time. He was more than hungry for her. He was starving. He had to have her. Taste her. Claim her the same way she’d claimed him. He kissed his way around her breasts, under them, testing her sensitivity there, leaving marks. Each time he did, he got the same response, that needy excitement at the wicked touch of his teeth.

His tongue traced her ribs and then the muscles in her belly, dipped into her belly button and lingered there. He bit her flat stomach, held her down with one hand and used his tongue along the crease of her hip bone and then to the vee of fiery curls at the junction of her legs. She kept herself neatly trimmed, a small strip of curls, just enough for him to nuzzle between lapping at either side of that soft little mound.

Her breathing turned ragged and she squirmed, her hips bucking, her head thrashing, telling him her entire body was sensitive to his touch. Her skin was softer than anything he’d ever felt, but hot, like the inside of her mouth. He knew when he got his cock inside of her she’d burn him up. Still, as much as he wanted to get there, he had to get his mouth on her. He had to stake that claim.

His hands went to her thighs and pulled them apart. Her gaze jumped to his face as he shifted to slide his body between her legs. He was a big man, much larger than she was, and he took some room, forcing her legs wide apart. He kept commanding hands on her as he looked into her eyes, telling her without words what he intended to do. What he wouldn’t tolerate. She was giving him this because he needed to make a point, just as she’d given him something, making her point.

“Make me real,” she whispered. “Whatever you have to do, Casimir, make me real and make me yours.”

His heart actually stuttered in his chest. His cock jerked hard, spilled drops onto the sheets. He smiled, knowing he looked like a hungry wolf. Knowing he was going to devour her, push her so high she would need his cock filling her in order to assuage the burn. He lowered his head, his tongue swiping along her entrance, tasting her, bringing her honey and spice into his mouth. The taste of her burst through his senses, heightening his need, stripping him raw of everything he’d ever been before. She writhed, cried out, her legs trying to wrap him up as her fingers curled into the sheets.

Casimir kept his word to her. He ate her. Devoured her. Licked and suckled and extracted every bit of creamy honeyed liquid he could possibly get from her. He was ruthless, uncaring that she was new to this. He let his control slip more. Held her tighter, not allowing her hips to move an inch, holding her in place for his feast.

It had been all about her, making her slick enough, hot enough so her body would accept his. His good intentions had fallen by the wayside. The more aroused she became, the more addicted he was to her spice. The more he craved the taste of her. Not just her taste, but the need growing in her, coiling hot and bright for him. Only him. There was no ulterior motive for her to be with him. Only that she saw him. Recognized him. Knew exactly who he was and that she belonged to him.

He wanted his tongue to brand her. His teeth. He wanted his cock buried in her, causing skid marks, burning his brand inside her. It was a terrible, selfish need that rose in him, but he didn’t care. He pushed her higher until her head thrashed, her breath came in ragged gasps and she moaned his name. Until she was sobbing and pleading for him to be inside her. Until she was nearly insane with arousal, with her need of him.

He pushed a finger into her. So tight. Burning hot. His cock jerked hard, swelled more. Wanting that. Needing that. He tried a second finger and found that was a very tight fit. He bent his head a second time and resumed his feast. He needed her so close, spiraling out of control, that she couldn’t do anything other than allow him entrance.

“Casimir. Please. Oh, God, I can’t even think. Please. Please. Please. Do something. Anything.”

Her sobbing voice told him she was nearly there. He found her clit. Suckled. She screamed and muffled her mouth with her own hand, her body flying apart, rippling with life. He felt the explosion around his tongue and fingers, in the muscles of her belly and down her thighs. Instantly he shifted, lifting her bottom higher, going up on his knees, pulling her legs around him so he could lodge the head of his cock in her slick, burning entrance.

She kept moving, driving him wild. He had to clench his teeth, keep his control, pushing slowly but steadily into her scalding hot, tight depths. Her inner muscles closed around the sensitive head of his cock, trying to push him out, yet squeezing around him, holding him tighter than any fist possibly could.

“Relax for me, Giacinta. You’re so tight it feels like paradise, but it’s going to take some work to get this right. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You have to be inside me. I need you in me right now, Casimir.”

She tried for him. He could see her make the effort. Taking a breath. Forcing it out. He pushed forward as she took another breath.

“That’s it. Open your eyes, golubushka. Look at me. Keep your eyes on mine.” He could help her if she let him.

Lissa swallowed hard and forced her eyes to open. His face was purely carnal. Wholly sensual. Every line cut deep. His eyes liquid silver. His gaze held hers, captured her, giving her courage, so that she melted into him, giving herself to him. Letting him brand her his, knowing this moment changed her forever.

She was on fire. Burning from the inside out. She’d never known a person could be so stimulated, feel so much pleasure while needing so much more. Everything he did added to that burning need. The craving. She felt almost insane with arousal. She was used to the feeling of fire. The way it burned. The way it could make her crave more. But she had never felt anything like this before. Never.

Red-hot flames rushed over her body, her breasts, between her thighs, roaring with a life of its own so that it felt as if a fireball careened through her bloodstream and lodged deep inside her core, to burn out of control. His invasion was slow and steady, stretching, burning, impaling her on a red-hot brand, so thick she was certain she was going to die before he made his way inside.

She lifted her hips, wanting more, but frightened that if he gave her more she would come apart and never be put back together. She felt every inch of him as he pushed deeper into her body, her tight muscles reluctantly giving way under his steady insistence. She gasped for air. Burned. Writhed. Tried to get away. Tried to impale herself deeper. The feeling was brutal. Magnificent. Terrifying. Everything she’d ever wanted.

“Giacinta.” He hissed her name between his teeth. Gave a soft groan that she felt in her deepest core. “You’re so hot. Scorching hot.”

His tone was harsh, and she could only stare helplessly up at his glittering, hooded eyes. The stamp of sensuality on his face only fed her hunger for him. He leaned forward, over her, pushing deeper, another inch stretching and burning, her muscles clamping hard, massaging, dragging him in, pushing him out. Allowing the invasion while she thrashed under him.

“Hold still, malyshka,” he whispered, his voice no more than a groan. “Be still. Just relax.”

There was no way to relax. She couldn’t get air. She tried to keep her hips from bucking off the bed, but it was impossible with the fire burning her from the inside out. The slow movement of his body as he bent over her, drawing up her knees, forcing her thighs wider, his cock driving deeper, slowly and then stopping abruptly drove her wild.

His tongue brushed over her right nipple and lightning forked straight to her sex so that the walls of her sheath convulsed around him, holding tight. His lips kissed, his teeth tugged and then his mouth was around her soft breast, drawing it deep, his tongue working her nipple so that the whip of lightning became pure fire until she was certain she couldn’t take the need consuming her one more moment.

There was a burst of pain and then he was fully seated in her. All the way. Every inch. She could feel him deep. Bumping her womb. A steel spike invading, taking her over, branding her from the inside out with his own particular fire—one she recognized. He was fire as well. Bound to the same element. The flames ran deep along with the passion. He had buried his true nature just as she had. Her body recognized his. They melted together, sharing skin. Sharing one body.

He moved again and a lash of flames burst over her. She suppressed a cry at the pleasure swamping her, and her muscles clamped down like a vise around his thick cock. His breath hissed out and his eyes burned right through her, claiming her. The lust there, the emotions swamped her. She wasn’t certain she could live through wanting him. Just like this. The bite of pain, the searing pleasure. The man branding her just as she’d branded him.

“I can’t hold on if you move. I’ve never lost control, Giacinta, but it’s slipped so far away from me and I don’t know if I can . . .”

“Don’t. I don’t want your control, Casimir. I want the real you. Let go. Let go with me.” Lissa wanted him on any terms. She wanted the real man. The real body. Not the one his handlers had forced him to become, but the one under all those masks.

“You’re not ready to handle that,” he denied, his lips traveling to her chin to sink his teeth there, biting, nibbling, his tongue soothing the sting. “Don’t move, golubushka,” he ordered, his voice so harsh she winced. His hips ground against her, then retracted and plunged again.

She writhed under him. Bucked her hips. Wrapped her legs around him, driving her body up to his, watching his face, the lines carved so deep, the molten eyes igniting. She was wild, and she wanted him the same way. She wanted him to lose all that discipline and control drilled into him. She wanted to be the one to do that.

With a harsh groan, he shifted his body again, his hands at her hips, holding her, pinning her so that he could pound into her, burying himself deep. She cried out, shocked at the pleasure streaking through her. Shocked at his sudden fury. Hungry for more. Desperate for more.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, Casimir. Make me yours.”

His gaze drifted possessively over her face. Devouring her. The look took her last breath, sent shivers through her body. He looked . . . ruthless. Implacable. So sensual she thought he was the epitome of the word.

He bent his head and took her mouth, so gently it turned her heart over, made it stutter in her chest. A million butterflies took wing in her stomach. The action of his body shifted his cock inside her, caressing her inside as he’d kissed her mouth. When he lifted his head, his gaze burning over her, her mouth continued to grow hot, just as her feminine sheath did. Scalding. Scorching. Hotter and hotter. She gave a low keening moan. The sound seemed to be a catalyst.

Casimir gripped her hips hard and plunged into her hard and fast. She felt the burning stretch along with a bite of pain mixing with a million other sensations driving her up higher. His hips took on a rhythm, a driving force, slamming into her, jolting her body, jolting her senses until she writhed and cried out, pleading, but for what, she wasn’t certain.

Deep inside, the tension coiled tighter and tighter, flames burning through her, white-hot now. All the while his cock slammed home, filling her, stretching her, the friction so strong she thought she might burst into flames. Still he didn’t stop, just gripped her tight and continued the merciless rhythm.

The tension continued to build in her, winding so tight, a harsh, desperate burn that refused to release, refused to ease. She whispered his name, fighting the fear that threatened to consume her right along with the pleasure that bordered on pain. He’d been right, she wasn’t ready for this. She had no idea it could even be this way. So desperate inside. The endless, terrible pressure coiling tighter and tighter with no end in sight.

Her head wouldn’t still, thrashing back and forth on the pillow. Her body writhed, fought, strained against his. That steel spike seemed to have grown, never stopping, never letting her catch her breath, driving deep, streaking fire through her with every stroke, pounding, while her body bathed his cock in hot moisture, yet the erotic pressure refused to ease even the tiniest bit.

She arched into him, needing more, always more, yet at the same time, fear built along with the brutal pressure. “Casimir.” She whispered his name, uncertain if she was pleading for more or if she wanted him to stop. There was no controlling her body, her hips lifting to meet those brutal, magnificent strokes, needing this. Needing him filling her. Stretching her. Building the flames until it was a wildfire raging out of control, consuming them both—and it would consume them. She had no doubt and fear gripped her, every bit as strong as the terrible, relentless hunger.

“Don’t fight me, Giacinta. Let go. Let yourself go.”

She hadn’t known until that moment that she was. “I’m afraid.”

“I’ve got you. Trust me. Give yourself to me. All of you. I’ve got you.”

His voice was harsh. Husky. Thick with a sensuality that shocked her. His eyes glittered like molten silver, moving over her face, commanding her. Soothing her. Claiming her. He didn’t stop moving. If anything, he increased the fury of the strokes, impaling her over and over, a harsh, pounding rhythm that drove her into a frenzy of need. Of lust. The sensations were so strong, the pressure building, tension coiling, so that tendrils of fear burned as intensely as passion raged.

Casimir rose above her, his face a mask of pure carnal sensuality. Lissa heard the sound of their bodies coming together in a furious symphony. Her ragged breathing and pleading gasps punctuated each savage stroke as he slammed home, again and again. She heard herself, her cries rising in direct proportion to the firestorm building until the conflagration began to consume her.

He moved his body, a subtle difference, but the hot stroke of his cock created a searing, bursting friction directly over her clit and the fire roared through her. Fast. Wild. Wave after wave. Out of control. Her sheath came alive, gripping and milking, the orgasm rushed through her, spreading like a forest fire up to her stomach, to her breasts, down to her thighs, until she had to jam her fist in her mouth to muffle her scream of sheer pleasure.

Casimir buried his face in her neck, his teeth on her shoulder as his body erupted into hot jets of seed, filling her. She was scorching hot, squeezing him like a vise, taking every drop from him until he saw lights dancing behind his eyes. Never, not ever, had his release been like this. So good. Ecstasy. She took him to a place he hadn’t known existed, and now that he did, he wanted to stay there.

He blanketed her body, knowing he was too heavy for her, but he liked her under him as he struggled for air. The feel of her silky skin melting under his was something he wasn’t quite ready to give up. He nuzzled her neck. Inhaled the combined scent of both of them. Licked the small spot behind her ear and then left a trail of kisses along her delicate jaw to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re beautiful. And you’re mine.” He allowed his Russian accent to emphasize his declaration. He felt her little gasp and eased his weight partially off of her, reluctantly allowing his body to release hers. “Are you all right?” He went to his side, staying over her, keeping her from moving. His hand swept down her body, from the side of her breast down along her rib cage and waist to shape the curve of her hip.

She looked up at his face. “I’m not sure. I could have died and you’re just an illusion.” Her soft mouth curved into a smile. “I admit, it was a great way to go. I’m still feeling it.”

He slid his hand around her thigh until his palm was inside, up close to the sweet junction between her legs. Her muscles still rippled and pulsed. He bent his head and pressed a kiss along the top of her breast. “In a minute I’ll get a washcloth and take care of you, but I’m a little worn out.”

She raised her eyebrow. “A Prakenskii? Worn out? What an admission.”

Casimir knew she was struggling to figure out what she was supposed to do. She’d never taken a lover before. She hadn’t given herself to anyone. She didn’t trust. She avoided all relationships out of necessity. He knew, because it was the same for him. No woman had ever spent the night with him. He didn’t sleep with others because he would be vulnerable in his sleep. Vulnerable equaled death in his world and in hers.

She started to slip out from under him, but the hand between her legs clamped down on her thigh. Her gaze jumped to his.

“We decided to do this thing, Giacinta. I’m not in it alone. I told you what to expect when you gave yourself to me. It was your choice. You don’t get to take that decision back, not after that.” He couldn’t keep the harshness from his voice. She wasn’t leaving his room. She wasn’t leaving him. He didn’t care if she felt vulnerable. He felt the same and she could just deal with it.

For the first time he saw indecision warring on her face. “I don’t know what to do, Casimir. I really don’t. I thought you’d want me to go to my own room. After. You know. After. I can’t imagine you let other women stay with you.”

“You aren’t other women.” He moved his hand from the warmth of her thighs to wrap his fingers around her wrist and draw her hand to him. “Lift up your palm.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She tensed, curled her fingers into a tight fist and tried to pull her hand away. “No. I know what you’re going to do and you can’t.”

“I have to. You’re mine. You know you’re mine. There isn’t going to be another woman.” He leaned over her. Close. His mouth inches from hers. His gaze holding her captive. “Can you still feel me inside of you?”

“Yes.” The admission was low.

“I can still feel you wrapped around me. Tight and hot, Giacinta. You’re in my bones now. Inside me. That isn’t going away for either one of us. Open your fingers.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You get that I’m not a submissive woman, right? I don’t let anyone tell me what to do.”

“You get that I’m a dominant man, right?” he countered. “Being dominant doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I don’t tell my woman to do something she doesn’t want to do, and you want this every bit as much as I do. More, we need it. You’re going after the man who betrayed your family . . .”

Her breath hissed out. “How do you know that? No one knows that.”

“No one but you, me and your uncle,” he corrected. “Open your fingers, Giacinta. I’m told this hurts for a moment, but then it’s over and we’re connected psychically. If I’m close, you can call me just by pressing your thumb into the middle of your palm. More, we can speak telepathically, which will help when we go after the man you need to kill and the Sorbacovs.”

“You’re going to be so annoying.” She stilled her hand and allowed her palm to face him. “Just so you know, I can be equally as annoying.”

“I don’t doubt that for one minute.” His grin flashed at her there in the dark.

His palm came up and he pushed air toward her and with it the energy rising like a tidal wave from his deepest core. She felt the zap like an electrical shock hit her palm and she cried out with surprise, while little sparks danced in the air between their open hands. She saw the mark, two intertwined circles blazing in the middle of her palm, fiery red and then golden before beginning to fade. Her skin itched all over her palm as the images faded. She could see the marks burned deep into his hand as well.

“I told my sisters I wouldn’t let a Prakenskii claim me and now I’m a liar,” she said with a little sigh. She pressed her head back into the pillows and smiled up at him. “I hope you know what we’re doing, because I don’t have a clue.”

“We’re going to find a way to come out of this alive. I hadn’t planned on that when I made up my mind to take out the Sorbacovs, but now that I’ve found you, I have to figure it out.” He brought her palm to the warm of his mouth and pressed a kiss into the faded image. “I’m sorry. I know that hurt. And I should have been more careful of your first time. I lost complete control.”

She smiled at him, looking more temptress than angel. “I loved that you lost control, and I hope it happens many more times.” She pulled his hand to her and pressed her own kiss over the mark. “I didn’t have an exit plan either, not really. I didn’t hold out much hope of survival, but the Sorbacovs put out a hit on the men in my family. I lost one family, I won’t lose another.”

“I’m good at what I do, malyshka. I’ve been in the business full-time. I know you’re used to working solo. I am as well, but if we do this together, I think we have a much better chance of survival.”

Lissa nodded slowly, her gaze turning thoughtful. Clearly, she accepted him already. It would be difficult for her to allow him to take the lead on accomplishing their goals, just as it would be for him to let her take the lead. It would take a little practice, learning to work together before they were ready to take on her first priority.

“Do you have everything you need to go after the man who betrayed your family?” Casimir kept his voice gentle. She had a difficult time talking about her family. Her body went tense and she avoided his eyes whenever the subject was brought up. He ran his hand up and down the curve of her bare hip soothingly.

“His name is Cosmos Agosto. He was young, just nineteen when my father hired him. He was really good-looking, at least to a six-year-old. My father and mother took him under their wing and made him a part of the family. I liked to spend time with him. He was really funny. He ate nearly every meal with us, and my parents really cared about him. If I wanted to play outside, if I was with him, none of the other men came with me, and I liked that. To this day, I’m uncomfortable with bodyguards.”

“This man betrayed your family?” There was no way for Casimir to keep the menace from his voice. Loyalty was bred in him, deep in his bones. He hadn’t seen his brothers more than once or twice in all the years that had gone by since Sorbacov’s men had murdered his parents and the boys had been taken to the schools to train. Never once, in all that time, did he ever think of betraying his brothers. Not once. No matter what happened to him. He would endure whatever he had to in order to ensure their safety, even if that meant never seeing them again.

“Yes, he betrayed us all,” she said, closing her eyes tight.

Casimir wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her body tight against his, needing to shelter her from the pain he heard in her voice. He knew about memories and how one had to lock them away to preserve sanity. “You don’t have to tell me, golubushka.” He bent his head to hers and brushed kisses along her temple.

“I do. You have to understand why I wanted to find him even more than I wanted to get to Aldo Porcelli.”

“What exactly happened between your family and the Porcelli family?” He continued to soothe her with caresses along her hip. He knew it would be difficult for her to open up and share the information with anyone, after keeping silent for so many years.

“I was a child, but I remember a man coming on to my mother, trying to insist she go home with him. We were at a friend’s house, and he came in with a lot of other men. I wasn’t paying much attention until the room went really quiet. I could tell my mother was upset. She wanted to go and this man kept grabbing her arm and stopping her. No one said anything to him, not even when she told him he was hurting her. We left fast. She told my father, and right away, he told her to pack, that we had to leave immediately.”

“It was Aldo Porcelli, not the acting boss, that made the pass at your mother? Because Aldo only recently came into power. His father died of a heart attack two years ago, and he stepped into his father’s shoes.”

“I was the heart attack,” Lissa said quietly.

“What about your uncle? Why didn’t he take out the Porcelli family in addition to the dog handler? Why put that on your shoulders?”