Page 49 of Merciless Wager
“Oh my God. Does he do this often?”
He smiled before nodding. “He’s undefeated, at least usually. The saying about seeing the other guy is usually true, but not at the moment. He was preoccupied, so his reflexes were not?—”
“Conor,” Liam said in warning before he dropped the needed supplies down near me.
I knew the other man was about to say something to me, so I glared when Conor went silent as warned. I’d revisit this conversation later, either with Zarren or Conor. Right now, I needed to tend to his injuries.
After cleaning the surrounding skin of all dried blood and sweat, I treated the infected gash, then covered it with gauze and tape. Zarren was still out, but I could see the steady rising and falling of his chest, as well as the soft snore he would make from time to time. The men then debated on whether to take him upstairs or not, but I made the decision for them when I grabbed a nearby blanket and covered him with it. From there, I lit the fireplace before going upstairs to grab a blanket of my own.
The men were sitting in the two chairs, silently observing me. I wasn’t quite sure if either man actually liked me. Conor seemed more amenable to my presence, while Liam seemed unusually hostile toward me right now. He hadn’t always acted that way, or at least I had never taken notice if he had.
The silence was deafening, but I didn’t leave the room. I did get up once to go into the kitchen to grab some aspirin and a bottled water just in case he woke up. I glared more than once at the other men. They said Zarren often fought, but it all seemed so barbaric.
The more I thought about it, though, the more sense it made. Was that why he’d been able to fully function after being ambushed? Hell, it’d only been hours after being shot in the upper arm and shoulder when he’d lifted me up and had feasted on me. Right after, he’d fucked me and not just once.
I could feel the slight heat creeping up in my face as I remembered our first time. Or should I say times? Zarren was a man possessed, almost machine-like. Pain rarely seemed to afflict or affect him in any way, and I supposed if so, it was easy to understand why he’d do this.
“He’ll be out for a while now, Miss. You should go upstairs and rest.”
“I don’t want to go to bed. I want to stay here until he wakes up.”
The men exchanged a look between each other, and Conor decided to speak right after. “Zarren didn’t want us to bring him here because he didn’t want to see you. It’s the reason he’s been gone for two days. Waking up to find you right here will only upset him more.”
“He stayed gone because of me?” I asked.
Our last conversation came rushing back, and I knew they were right. Zarren hated that I could see the things he wanted to keep hidden. I could feel the things he tried to push deep inside of him. He wanted to act as if he didn’t love me as much as I loved him.
Well, maybe what he felt was something different to love, but I doubted he could spend all the time we’d spent together, especially doing the things we did together, and not feel something more than lust.
There’d been actual pain in his words and on the brutally sharp features of his face before he had left. I also knew there was too much emotion pent up inside of him that he could only seem to alleviate when he was pounding into me. He wanted me to tell him that I was his, which had to mean something.
“I don’t believe you,” I finally responded.
Liam growled. “For fuck’s sake, Miss. You’re causing him to act out of character and that can’t happen in this world. You live in the pink bedroom with teddy bears and dolls on your shelves while he runs a fucking criminal organization that spans continents. He needs to be on his A-game, and you frankly weaken him.”
Each word felt like a lash to my cheek, so it was not surprising when tears sprang to my eyes, then started to fallfrom my partially closed lashes. “I weaken him?” I finally managed to get out.
Conor took a deep breath, then came over to me. “This time with you has been very difficult on Zarren. He’s done some uncharacteristic things, and while not all are bad, he knows, like we do, that he needs to keep his focus on business. The merger between the Branningtons and the Bocharovs has been weighing heavily upon him. If you care for him as much as I suspect you do, please allow him to rest privately. He’s not going to be very good company once he awakens, so it’s for the best, really.”
They wanted me gone. I tried not to dwell on that, so I focused on his words before that. Zarren was having difficulty handing me over to the Bocharovs. Somewhere deep inside of me, I had suspected it, but Conor had basically just confirmed it.
“I’ll go upstairs, but I won’t stay up there like some prisoner. Iwillbe back,” I told them as I rose to my feet and disappeared upstairs. Once in my room, I returned to the chair and covered myself with the blanket. Despite the warmth of this penthouse, my hands and feet were blocks of ice. I rubbed them as I leaned back and began to devise another plan. “Maybe my escape is not an escape at all. I think I’ve finally found my way out of this predicament.”
Groaning aloud as I awakened, it wasn’t from the dull pain afflicting my body, but from the fact that my men had brought me back home despite my strict orders. Assholes! Hopefully, Aurora hadn’t seen me like this. Hell, of course she would’ve.
Wanting to get to my room just in case I was wrong, I slowly scrambled upright, unable to hide my grimace as I swung my heavy legs over the edge of the couch. Neither man was in this room, but I could hear their muffled voices coming from a nearby one, so I knew they were close by.
Once back on my feet, I felt remarkably better. Pain was something I’d grown accustomed to my entire life. As a young child, I’d been forced to undergo all types of torture. My great-grandfather told me that it was to make me strong. I needed to prove I could withstand anything thrown at me, especially by my enemies. He couldn’t let me have my name and join the empire without proving I wouldn’t fold and give up the family and its secrets at the first sign of discomfort.
I’d also been made to prove that I could carry out any order given to me, and thus far, neither he, Cillian, nor Kingston could’ve ever said otherwise. My own father had betrayed the family, and his attempted rape of Ekaterina hadn’t even been his worst deed, according to the man who’d found and taken care of me until his death. Princeton Brannington’s biggest sin hadn’t been the assault itself, but leaving himself open to be taken out by a rival family.
The Russian Bratva. One of their princesses had taken out my father before I could ever meet him. Now, another Russian would make my girl his next princess, and she’d also be taken from me.
My girl.
I shook my head at that thought.
She isn’t mine. She never has been.
