Dimitri's Forbidden Submissive (Submissive's Wish) (29 page)

So now, here she sat in a too-loud club in downtown Buffalo, wearing her backless silver mini-dress, listening to crappy top 40 remix music, with a bunch of drunk people who were getting on her nerves.

She looked over her shoulder at the guy, a cute enough man in his early twenties with a nice, polite college boy smile, and said in a cool voice, “Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen a wolf that realistic before. And the design around it is really cool.”

“Her mom did it,” Tawny piped up, ignoring Rya’s glare.

The blond guy moved around to the side, his arm resting on the bar behind Rya, way too close for her comfort. “Wow, you’re mom’s a tattoo artist?”

Hoping he would get the hint, she merely said, “Yep,” and continued to pretend to watch the dance floor.

Rya had gotten the tattoo a week after she’d returned from the lodge. It was a full back piece of the head of a wolf, beautifully rendered and done with such detail that it looked more like a painting than a tattoo. Rya’s mother had managed to get the exact color of Dimitri’s eyes down, and whenever Rya looked at the tattoo in the mirror she found Dimitri’s wolf looking back at her. She admitted to herself that it was somewhat masochistic to constantly torture herself by wearing what amounted to his brand on her body, but it also comforted her, like he was always with her. Rya’s mom had also included a traditional Russian folk art pattern around the wolf, framing it and giving the image depth.

A week after she’d gotten the tattoo she’d received an email from Dimitri asking how she was doing. She’d honestly wondered if she would ever hear from him again so his email had both elated her and depressed her, but she eagerly wrote him back and Dimitri became her pen pal, in a weird way. While she wished she could talk to him, he said it wasn’t safe and she believed him.

She had an almost—no, there was no ‘almost’ about it—she had a stalker-level obsession with him. Every night she did an internet search for his name, dreading finding out that he’d been hurt but eager for any information she could get. The sight of his face always sent a stab of pain through her heart, but she could stare at his picture for hours and almost feel his hands on her. Unfortunately, her constant searching for his name also showed her pictures of him at various social events with an endless series of stunning women on his arm, and he swore he never had sex with them. Oh, he talked about how much he missed her, said the loveliest things about how much she meant to him, and she knew he had to keep up the appearance of his playboy ways, but fucking hell the thought of him with another woman hurt to the point where she’d been determined to go out tonight and find some faceless guy to try and ease the sting with a night of meaningless sex.

Too bad her heart wasn’t on board with that plan.

The blond guy leaned down and took an audible sniff. “You smell really good. What are you wearing?”

She shrugged, because in truth, she had no idea what she was wearing. Two weeks ago she’d mentioned to Dimitri that his shirt no longer smelled like him, which led to her confessing that she slept in his shirt every night. A few days later, a mysterious package was delivered to her house and contained a bottle of unmarked cologne and five bars of soap. As soon as she smelled it she began to cry, because it was the scent that Dimitri wore. She was tempted to lift her wrist to her nose right now so she could take a sniff of his cologne.

The guy trying to hit on her just wasn’t taking a hint as he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “So what’s your name?”

A deep, growly male voice said from her right, “Her name is none of your fucking business. Now move your ass before I move it for you.”

Rya rolled her eyes and Tawny smirked as Gears, one of the Ice Demons club members, threw a proprietary arm around Rya’s waist and tugged her to him. He was a good looking man in his early thirties with long, sun-kissed light brown hair held back in a leather thong and a wicked smile that promised nothing but trouble. She’d been friends with Gears since she was a little kid and was used to his overprotective ways, although right now, she actually appreciated it. Tawny liked to say Gears had a black belt in cock blocking when it came to Rya and she had to agree.

The wanna-be stud paled a bit and stepped back. “Sorry, man, didn’t know she was taken.”

As the guy moved quickly away, Rya tried to shrug Gears’ arm off her shoulder. “Thanks, but you can let me go now.”

He looked down at her and gave her a slow smile while rubbing her bare back with his thumb. “You really want that, babe?”

While Tawny watched them with an interested look, Rya nodded. “Hands to yourself.”

He removed his arm, but as he did, his fingers caressed her back. The considering look he gave her made Rya uncomfortable and she looked away from him and back to Tawny who was now openly gawking. Since Rya had returned from the Submissive’s Wish Auction, Gears had made it no secret that he was openly stalking her, and oddly enough, her step-dad seemed okay with it. Three months ago Rya might have been interested, but when Gears touched her, there were no tingles, and when she looked into his eyes she felt no heat.

It was official. Dimitri had ruined her for any other man.

Fucker.

Gears wandered back over to the pool table where he was hanging out with his buddies and Rya let out a sigh. “Shit.”

Tawny shook her head and took a sip from her margarita. “I don’t know why you keep turning him down. He really likes you. I know he’s not a Dom, but the potential is there.”

Rya shrugged and glanced at her watch. It was just after eleven, which meant it was just after eight a.m. in Russia. Usually she didn’t email Dimitri this late at night, but holy shit she missed him. It had been a cruddy week at work, two of her favorite patients had passed, and he seemed to know how to make her feel better when no one else could. Not that she let him know how bummed out she was, he had enough shit going on without her troubles added to it.

Though he didn’t tell her a lot about his world, he did tell her enough to keep her awake at night. Little hints of things not going right, of dangerous times, then last month when she’d read an online newspaper article about him being involved in a fight, complete with pictures of his battered face, she’d cried. God, she’d always hated women that seemed to cry over everything, yet with Dimitri, her emotions were so intense she needed some kind of outlet for them; since she couldn’t fuck his brains out, tears seemed to be her only release.

She glanced over at Gears, trying to talk herself into an attraction to him, but it just didn’t work. Gears was a good guy, and sexy, but he wasn’t a Dom, and he just didn’t do it for her.

Tawny leaned forward. “When are you going to tell me about whoever it is you’re obsessing over.”

Blinking rapidly, Rya tried to give her friend a blank look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ever since you came back from the Submissive’s Wish Auction you’ve been distant, not you.” Tawny sighed and patted her knee. “I’m worried about you, kid. Did you lose your heart to someone? I know the Dom who bought you ended up with someone else and you played with random people, but it sure seems like someone made an impression on you.”

“I…” Shit, she wanted to pour her heart out to her friend, to tell her what was going on, but she couldn’t. “I’m just tired, okay? Had a shitty week at work. Mark and Edith passed away.”

Tawny immediately grabbed her in a hug and Rya felt like total pond scum for using her work as an excuse. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Giving her friend a quick squeeze she stood and grabbed her jacket and purse. “I’m going to head out, okay? I have a funeral to go to tomorrow.”

Tawny nodded and scanned the dance floor. “I’ll go find Marci and Jill. Take care of yourself and call me if you need me. You know I’m always up for cookie dough therapy.”

She kissed Tawny on the cheek and slipped her leather jacket on. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Hoping she could duck out without Gears noticing, she made it almost all the way to her Jeep Liberty before boots crunched in the snow behind her. “Wait up, babe. Don’t like you walking out on your own.”

Her breath frosted the air as she turned and gave Gears an irritated look. “I’m sure I’ll be fine walking myself out.”

He glanced down at her silver high heels and grinned. “Not in those shoes.”

Hitting the alarm for her Jeep, she opened the door then froze when Gears suddenly wrapped his arms around her. She pushed at him, her heart racing. “What the hell are you doing?”

In the odd lighting of the parking lot he studied her face. “When are you gonna give me a chance to take that sadness out of your eyes?”

She didn’t want to admit how nice it felt to be held by a man, even if it wasn’t the man that she wanted. “Gears, are you drunk?”

With a gentle touch he smoothed her hair back from her cheek. “You know I’ve had my eye on you for years, Rya.”

“I…Gears I don’t think of you like that.”

“I know.” He sighed and cupped her chin. “Just think about this.”

He leaned down and kissed her, a soft, surprisingly gentle kiss that felt good even if it didn’t make her blood burn. He coaxed her lips open and she found herself kissing him back, trying to feel something other than mild arousal. When Gears pulled away he surprised her again by placing a soft kiss on her forehead and stepping back.

“Just think about it, Rya.”

Unable to form a coherent sentence, she got in her SUV and drove home on auto-pilot, her mind spinning around Gears’ kiss. She missed dating, missed having someone to hold and be held by. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see Gears as anything other than a friend. And if she did date him, it would not only feel like cheating on Dimitri, as stupid as that sounded considering she wasn’t even sure if she would ever see him again. It would also be unfair to Gears. He was a good guy who deserved a woman who thought the he was the shit.

As she pulled into the gravel driveway of her two-story farm house she’d inherited from her grandparents on her dad’s side, her mind and heart were heavy. Was this how the rest of her life was going to be? Alone and running from men who could give her what Dimitri couldn’t? She sighed heavily and opened her car door, sliding out and taking careful steps in her heels through the snow. Though she’d shoveled the walkway earlier, another inch or so had fallen while she was in the club.

The porch lights made the snow sparkle and as she took careful steps her wandering mind noticed that someone else had been walking through her front yard. Quickly looking up, she didn’t see anyone, but a feeling of unease went through her. She lived out in the sticks so it wasn’t like someone would have randomly come to her house. Maybe her step-dad had stopped by…although why would he walk around her house like these tracks did?

Digging out her phone from her purse, she quickly called her mom.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Her mom said after two rings.

“Hi Mom. Um, did Rock stop by my house or send one of the boys by?”

“No, why?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, but there’s foot prints around my house. Big ones.”

Her mom bellowed for Rock and a second later he came on the phone. “What’s up baby girl?”

Moving quickly, she began to mince her way through the snow and back to her car. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I think someone was at my house.”

His voice came out intense and deep as he said, “Get in your car and go, now.”

“Rock?”

In the background she could hear her mom yelling at a couple of the guys to get off their asses. “Just get in your car and come to the club house. Got me?”

“Okay. I…”

Someone grabbed her from behind and she screamed, her phone flying out of her hand as she was dragged into her house. Panic suffused her and she bit at the gloved hand clamped against her mouth, then cried out when she was thrown up against the wall of her foyer, the edge of her coat rack digging painfully into her shoulder. The light in her living room was on, giving her enough illumination to see the harsh features of an older man she didn’t recognize.

His face was heavily lined and he was maybe in his fifties. When his thin lips pulled back in a snarl she noticed he was missing a tooth, but he was physically huge and the look he was giving her was chillingly blank. “You struggle, I hurt.”

With that he dropped her on the ground, then planted his big foot in the middle of her chest and stepped on her, pinning her to the wood floor hard enough that she had trouble breathing. When she struggled, he stepped down harder until she was afraid he might break her ribs. Panting, she stared up as he pulled out a phone and took a picture of her. Unable to draw a deep breath, her vision started to go spotty before he removed his foot and lifted her up. He spoke into his phone, and when she heard Russian she knew she was in deep fucking shit.

Trying to think of a way out of this, to survive long enough for her step-dad to reach her, she stared up at him. “What are you doing? Who are you?”

He ignored her and took her through her house, heading for the back door. She knew if he got her outside she was fucked, so she tried to fight him, attempting to kick him and hit him. Making an annoyed sound he lifted her by her throat and slammed her against the wall again. She cried out at the pain, her voice coming out pinched by his tight hold. As she looked into his face the memory of Catrin’s story about her friend flew through her mind and she lost it.

Reaching out, she did what Dimitri had told her to do and clawed at his eyes. He yelled in pain as she felt something wet and disgusting beneath the fingers of her left hand, but her right hand only scratched his face. His fingers on her neck loosened and she kicked out at him, catching him in the knee with her high heel.

She scrambled away and clawed herself upright, lunging for a large butcher knife drying next to her sink. A moment later his hands were on her. As he spun her around she slashed at him with the knife, catching him across the throat and down his collar bone before he threw her hard enough that her head slammed against the cupboards beneath her sink and she had trouble focusing. The man was making a weird, garbled sound and holding his hands to his throat. She could see the damage she’d done to one of his eyes and blood spurted between his fingers with each beat of his heart. She managed to slice a major artery, but he wasn’t down yet. As he fumbled with his jacket she tried to crawl away, but her arms weren’t working right.