Bind Me (Capture Me #2)

By: Anna Zaires & Dima Zales

I





His Captive





1





Yulia



Prisoner. Captive.

With Lucas’s heavily muscled weight pinning me to the bed, I feel that reality more acutely than ever. My wrists are restrained above my head, and my body is invaded by a man who just showed me both heaven and hell. I can feel Lucas’s cock softening inside me, and my eyes burn with unshed tears as I lie there, my face turned away to avoid looking at him.

He took me, and once more, I let him. No, I didn’t just let him—I embraced him. Knowing how much my captor hates me, I kissed him of my own accord, giving in to dreams and fantasies that have no place in my life.

Giving in to my desire for a man who’s going to destroy me.

I don’t know why Lucas hasn’t done it yet, why I’m in his bed instead of strung up in some torture shed, broken and bleeding. This is not what I expected when Esguerra’s men brought me here yesterday and I realized that the man whose death I thought I caused was alive.

Alive and determined to punish me.

Lucas stirs on top of me, his heavy weight lifting slightly, and I feel the cool breeze from the air conditioning on my sweat-dampened skin. My inner muscles tighten as his cock slips out of me, and I become aware of a deep soreness between my legs.

My throat constricts, and the burn behind my eyelids intensifies.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I repeat the words like a mantra, focusing on keeping the tears under control. It’s harder than it should be, and I know it’s because of what just transpired between us.

Pain and pleasure. Fear and lust. I never knew the combination could be so devastating, never realized that I could soar right after being plunged into the abyss of my past.

I never imagined I could come mere moments after remembering Kirill.

Just thinking of my trainer’s name makes the knot in my throat expand, the dark memories threatening to well up again.

No, stop. Don’t think about that.

Lucas shifts again, lifting his head, and I exhale in relief as he releases my wrists and rolls off me. The prickling sensation behind my eyes recedes as I take in a full breath, filling my lungs with much-needed air.

Yes, that’s it. I just need some distance from him.

Gulping in another breath, I turn my head to see Lucas get up and remove the condom. Our eyes meet, and I catch a hint of confusion in the blue-gray coolness of his gaze. In the next moment, however, the emotion is gone, leaving his square-jawed face as hard and uncompromising as ever.

“Get up.” Lucas reaches for me and grabs my arm. “Let’s go.” He drags me off the bed.

I’m too shaky to resist, so I just stumble along as he marches me down the hallway.

A few moments later, he stops in front of the bathroom door. “Do you need a minute?” he asks, and I nod, grateful for the offer. I need more than a minute—I need an eternity to recover from this—but I will settle for a minute of privacy if that’s all I can get.

“Don’t try anything,” he says as I close the door, and I take his warning to heart, doing nothing more than using the toilet and washing my hands as quickly as I can. Even if I could find something to fight him with, I don’t have the strength right now. I’m drained, both physically and emotionally, my body aching nearly as much as my soul. It was too much, all of it: the brief connection I thought we had, the way he suddenly became cold and cruel, the memories combined with the devastating pleasure.

The fact that Lucas took me even though he has that other girl, the dark-haired one who spied on me from the window.

My throat closes up again, and I have to choke back a sob. I don’t know why this thought, of all things, is so painful. I have no claim on my captor. At best, I’m his toy, his possession. He’ll play with me until he gets bored, and then he’ll break me.

He’ll kill me without a second thought.

You’re mine, he said as he was fucking me, and for a brief moment, I thought he meant it. I thought he felt as drawn to me as I am to him.

Clearly, I was wrong.

A thin film of moisture veils my vision, and I blink to clear it from my eyes. The face staring back at me from the bathroom mirror is gaunt and starkly pale. Two months in the Russian prison took their toll on my appearance. I don’t even know why Lucas wants me right now. His girlfriend is infinitely prettier, with her warm complexion and vibrant features.