Chapter 19

Sotza lunged for Vee, so fast she barely registered what was happening. One moment he was standing beside her, talking leisurely as though he had all the time in the world. Next moment he was on top of her, crushing her into the mattress, immobilizing her. She tried to fight, she really did, but it was like a huge sack full of bricks had dropped on her. Vee was small and sleight, but she liked to think she knew how to throw her weight around like it meant something. Sotza quickly proved otherwise, pinning her arms against her body and holding her with a ruthless ease.

"Get off me!" she snarled. "You weigh a fucking ton."

"Are you going to stop fighting?" he asked, easing his weight slightly, but not moving off her. She was trapped under his tall, wiry frame with no way out.

"Yes," she hissed, lying, quite literally, to his face. "What's the point in a struggle. We both know you'll win."

He studied her, his face mere inches from hers. The subtle spicy smell of his cologne touched her senses, making her stomach feel like jelly. "I don't believe you, Vee," he said, his voice growing deeper. She was affecting him. Her body under his, her nearness.

Her mouth watered as she studied his firm lips. She had to give herself a quick mental shake. She absolutely could not lust after the psycho killer. "What do I have to gain by fighting you?" she asked, her own voice husky now.

"Everything," he said, his grip on her arms tightening in warning as he lowered his head. "You have everything to gain by fighting and everything to gain by surrendering. You see, my lovely lady, the end will be the same no matter what you do. I take you, I keep you, you belong to me."

She opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, but like the hawk he resembled, he swooped, taking her lips in a kiss that shook her to her core. This was no subtle touching of mouths, no gentle exploration. This was a claiming. His lips crushed hers, his tongue invading her mouth, stealing everything she refused to give. Sotza was telling her without words that she was done running and that he was dictating her future now.

Fuck that! She was not about to become the conquest of yet another mob boss. Another man who would use her for sex and set her up as a trophy.

She snapped her teeth together in an attempt to sink them into his tongue. He anticipated her move though and retreated for a few seconds, long enough to bring his hand up and grip her jaw in a bruising hold, forcing her mouth open. She let out a garbled protest, but he swallowed the sound in another kiss, this one more intense, more brutal than the last. This was not the prelude to a lover's tryst, this was war. He was raping her mouth, telling her exactly how things would stand between them.

Tears formed in her eyes. She struggled for breath whenever he gave her the opportunity, sucking in quick gasps before he once more settled his mouth over hers, punishing her. He didn't explore her body, didn't tear her clothes away, as she halfway expected. He just assaulted her mouth until she stopped struggling. Once she lay unmoving beneath him, the fight stolen from her, he relaxed the brutality of his kisses, softening them. He still held her jaw immobile, open for his use, but some of her fear ebbed as his kisses turned more playful, more passionate. Like he was rewarding her for not fighting him.

He kissed her lips, licked the inside of her mouth, her teeth, everything. Then he finally allowed his grip to relax, his lips trailing heated kisses across her cheek to her ear and down her neck. Heat flooded her, a warm melting sensation in her stomach.

He lifted his head, looked down at her. His thumb caressed her face, sliding from her chin to her stinging lips. There was a flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by a hardening of resolve. His cool, authoritarian fa?ade dropped for a moment and she saw the man beneath The Butcher, saw his need to possess her and own her in those soulless depths. But it was that fleeting moment of surprise that terrified her. Her heart beat a frightened tattoo against her chest as they studied each other. She wondered if he would decide he didn't want her, didn't want this. That she'd been fine as the ice queen that would stand at his side, but now that he discovered fire between them, he was having second thoughts.

Finally, after minutes had passed, he spoke. "You have everything to gain by coming to me willingly, Vee. I can give you the world."

Her breath caught in her throat and she tensed. Far from being too freaked out to follow through on his grand plans involving her, he now seemed even more determined to have her. For a split second she thought about the possibilities of what he asked, thought about what life could be like at his side, his queen, his wife.

But no, eventually he would hurt her like Tony did. Memories of the subjugation and pain flooded through her, fresh, as though it had all happened yesterday. She'd known every kind of pain there was to know at Tony's hands. She'd discovered a depth of hatred, directed at both her late husband and herself, that she hadn't known existed. And most of it had hit her after his death, after she'd sobered up. The sharp sting of pain was so much more real when there were no substances to mitigate the awful feelings.

She narrowed her eyes at the man who held her down, tried to force her acceptance and dictate her future. "Fuck you," she hissed, reaching up with the hand he was no longer pinning to the bed and taking a handful of his hair. She yanked his head back as hard as she could. He was caught by surprise, his head following the movement of her fist so he didn't lose a bunch of hair in her vicious hold. She reached behind herself, gripping the hilt of the knife she'd strapped in a short leather sheath against the small of her back. She brought the knife between them and placed it against his jugular. She'd been waiting for this moment, waiting for him to get close enough that she could pull her ace. "I'm not going anywhere with you. You'll have to kill me first."