Ronan’s dark gaze met mine, warm like the sun and as cold as an icy whip of wind. The look reminded me of discarded Bibles, restrained wrists, and naked skin. My breath slowed, each frozen puff of air more difficult to push out. The eye contact began to sear; to search the dark corners in my chest, slip through the cracks, and spread outward. Unable to find my breath or control the fire running rampant, I was the first to look away.

I gripped the cold chain-link fence, vaguely noticing Misha’s nose nudging my fingers as Ronan’s presence prickled my back. It was a frustrating development that my body lit up like a firework display when the man was near, pushing aside all qualms he would murder my papa in cold blood. I needed therapy. Or church. Anything to exorcise the demons that raged in eagerness at the sound of his voice. He wasn’t even speaking to me, but the Russian brought back the rough words he said to me last night with his head between my thighs.

I closed my eyes as a flush rose beneath my skin, stinging on contact with the icy air. Of course a “fuck” came out of his mouth, reminding me of when he said it while deep inside me. The rasp of his voice stamped me like a brand, the burn licking at the soreness in my core and leaving an empty ache behind.

One taste of sin, and now I was dying for another.

Car doors slammed shut, then the sound of tires moved down the drive. I released a ragged breath. I didn’t know what I expected after losing my virginity, but if this insanity was what everyone felt, how did anything else get done besides procreation?

My legs were growing numb, so I gave Misha one last pet, then stood with my plate and headed into the outbuilding. Khaos lounged on a torn-up bed that leaked stuffing in his chain-link kennel. My heart sank when I saw his paw was bleeding, staining the cement floor with a few drops of crimson.

I lowered to my knees in front of his kennel to get a better look. Something sharp was wedged between his paw pads. His stare followed me, but he wasn’t growling for a change, so I edged the gate open and slowly moved inside, speaking soft, encouraging words while watching for any sign I made him uncomfortable. He didn’t do anything but view me with steely, dark eyes.

Nervously, I stayed a few feet away, having never been this close before. Even Albert maintained his distance, pushing Khaos’s food bowl under the gate with his boot. The idea I was getting somewhere made my chest clench with hope, but the emotion faded as thoughts surfaced of how to help him. I wondered how anyone would remove the object in his paw without knocking him out. And I knew from experience, being drugged sucked.

“Can I see your paw, buddy?”

I swore, a kingly glint in the dog’s eyes said “nyet” like I was a servant invading his rest.

“You’re just going to lie here with that stick in your paw forever?”

He turned his head away from me as if I was a massive waste of his time. The dog had the weird ability to make me feel beneath him.

“Fine. Don’t look at me,” I said, oddly slighted. “But your choice is either me or etorphine, and, trust me, the latter leaves a massive headache.”

He licked his front leg, bored with anything I had to say. A feeling arose that he knew he needed help; he would just never deign to admit it. I shared the stubborn trait, and it only made me more sympathetic to his plight. The fact I was so near to him and he wasn’t up in arms gave me the courage to edge closer. My hands grew clammy, and I wiped them on my coat.

“This might sting a little, but don’t hate me, okay?”

With a shaky inhale, I grasped the stick and yanked it out. Movement, bristling sable fur, and a snarl filled the kennel. It all happened so fast I didn’t notice the bleeding puncture marks in my wrist until my vision began to dot and a shakiness flared in my veins.

Khaos bit me.

A cool numbness spread from the wound up my arm. The marks weren’t that deep, but he must have nicked an artery because blood dripped steadily to the floor. With a growl, Khaos stalked away from me to the corner of the kennel.

My wrist began to throb, but even with the pain, I didn’t blame him for biting me. Sometimes, I lashed out at the piece of furniture I stubbed my toe on. My rising concern was owed to the fact I hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days. The emptiness in my stomach roiled. My blood pressure dived so low it left my head spinning and my muscles weak. I braced my hands on the cold cement floor and breathed deeply to sway the darkness rising, but it didn’t help.

I passed out.

Consciousness returned, though as soon as I opened my eyes, I closed them tightly at the sight of Khaos standing over me, sharp teeth bared. My heart rate kicked into overdrive, fear grabbing my lungs.

“Please don’t eat me,” I blurted unsteadily. “I won’t taste very good to you. I’m vegan.”

A huff came from him, his hot breath warming my face. A tremble coasted through me while I lay supine on the cement floor with a blood-hungry beast deciding if I was edible. Even a freaking dog wasn’t sure if I was worth the trouble.

“If you’re going to make me a snack, just do it already.” I didn’t know if it was the fear of death or low blood sugar that suddenly clogged my throat with emotion. “Nobody will miss me.” A cold nose sniffed my cheek. “My mother’s dead and was apparently a sadist. My papa’s also a terrible person and will probably be tortured to death soon. Ivan thinks I’m a traitor.” A tear escaped. “The way it’s looking, if I get out of here alive, I’m going to end up in the sex industry.” The words came out with a sob. “And I’ll only make pennies because I’m an emotional fuck.”

A drool-laden lick to my face pulled me out of my pathetic reverie. Cautiously, I opened my eyes to see Khaos towering over me, his expression thoughtful.

“Just for clarification, does that mean you forgive me, or that you’ve decided I’m dessert?”

He tilted his head—then, seemingly over the situation, he moved to lie down on his bed and began licking his injured paw. A heavy breath whooshed out of me. I had stuffing in my hair, tears on my cheeks, and blood dripping from my wrist, but when I sat beside Khaos and he let me run a hand down his back, a sense of purpose filled a hole in my heart.

borborygmi

(n.) the rumbling sounds your stomach makes

Just as I reached the kennel’s exit, the door opened to reveal a stern-faced Albert. I took a step back, hid my wrist in my coat sleeve, and forced an innocent expression. His suspicious gaze slid from mine to take in the room behind me.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked.

“Digging an escape hole into the woods.”

Albert was either used to my sarcasm or I was the most pathetic captive in town. He didn’t even consider the possibility I was trying to escape, his eyes narrowing on the only dog in the building.

“What are you doing here? I thought you left to go kill people in Moscow.” My stomach tipped when I realized if Albert was here, Ronan probably was too. They’d left the house together. I wondered if they forgot the keys to the underworld and turned back for them.

“So you wait to do the things you are not supposed to after we leave?”

I frowned in thought. “Yeah. That sounds about right.” He grumbled something in Russian, and I pushed past him. “Now, excuse me. That escape plan didn’t go very well considering the solid cement floor, so I need to go think of another.”