And I couldn’t help but wonder why he was so scarred. The slices across his face and head were clearly made from knives, like he had been savagely attacked. But who could have done it? And why? Those scars took away any typical attractiveness, but his eyes … his blue eyes were so striking, so expressive. And I, unbeknownst to him, when I looked closely enough, could see every emotion he felt in those eyes.

Including the nervous bewilderment he had obviously felt when I had placed my hand on his massive chest. The flare in his eyes of the unknown, and, sadder still, the flash of fear in their depths. This man, this torturer, had felt fear at my simple touch. I knew in an instant that he had never been touched softly, affectionately, before. It filled me with such sadness that my throat closed with emotion.

Zaal and Anri had probably been the same, too.

So, foolishly or not, I had resolved to let him do what he must. I planned to wait for a moment to ask him questions, find out who had sent him and why. But I hadn’t expected this new development. I had been prepared for more pain, more sadistic torture. But not this. I wasn’t skilled in seduction, completely unprepared for sexual acts.

The man pushed forward again, and with one glimpse into his eyes I saw the vulnerability from before staring back at me. I realized quickly that although this was coming from a place of torture, a quest for answers, I could see in his eyes that he was seeking what I had given him before—a small amount of acceptance.

Of affection.

I realized the torturer had a weakness after all—a need for someone to see the him trapped underneath the monster on the outside. And yearning to be touched.

I knew I had to be that person for him. I had to try. Something inside me made me need to try.

His hand on my breast moved again, and I shifted under his touch.

He repeated the action, the pad of his thumb slipping over my raised nipple. I closed my eyes, trying to break the hold of his intense crystal gaze. And I closed my eyes in confusion when a jolt of heat darted between my legs.

I held back a cry at this unfamiliar sensation, held back a whimper as his hot breath washed over my face. As I fluttered my eyes back open, the man’s beautifully scarred face was the only thing I could see. He was so close that I couldn’t escape his attention—his light eyes, his fair skin, jet-black shaven hair, and angular face. But his lips? My eyes could not resist slipping back to stare at those lips. They were full and thick, despite the small upper scar, yet looked so soft to the touch. I idly wondered, Whoever sent this man to kill my brother chose him well. Not only because of his effectiveness in torture, but also for his terrifying looks, which were somehow, to me, both savage and divine.

The man’s body displayed no trace of fat. As he pulled the sweatpants from his body, my face blazed at the sight of this naked man. I had no reference, no sexual experience with men, not even platonic.

He had kidnapped me.

He had hurt me

He had tortured me.

But now I was seeing another side of him. The one who called me kitten in his native Russian and now raked back my hair, whose eyes flared and mouth hissed when he stroked his rough hand—intimately—over my naked skin.

My mind was a mixture of confusion. I was constantly on edge, wondering if the next touch would bring me pain or would whatever was in the man’s collar change him back into the bringer of torture and pain? Yet under his current ministrations, a strange sense of safety had washed through me. I was more convinced than not that he wouldn’t hurt me.

I didn’t understand any of it.

He moved in, lifting his hands to brush back hair from my face. I felt so small as his large frame towered over me. It seemed to consume me.

One hand drifted down to hold on to my jaw. He twisted my head, until my neck and cheek were open to his attentions. He inched in, his lips ghosting along my cheek, but not kissing the skin, just brushing all along the side of my face. His breath tickled my ear. Hot shivers bolted down my spine.

Wordlessly, the man’s lips moved down to my neck and followed the same path as his tongue had previously made. A low rumble sounded from his chest. In my hair his hand was still. He inhaled a long breath. “You smell so sweet, kotyonok.” My legs weakened as his hoarse voice rasped in my ear. His hand released my face, and as he turned his hand the backs of his fingers began running down the side of my neck, slowly and featherlight. Goose bumps emerged in their wake. When his hand landed just above my breast, my breathing paused. I waited for his next touch with bated breath.

Suddenly, hearing him releasing a frustrated strained groan, I felt a press of warmth against my neck. I was shocked to stillness wondering what he was doing. Then his mouth moved down my throat just a fraction and the feeling of warmth hit me again. Realization hit hard—he was kissing my neck.

In this moment I was glad my arms and legs were restrained. With his touch, this man’s whispered gentle touch, I feared I would have fallen to the floor.

I had never been kissed.

I had never felt a man press his lips against mine. I had never felt this before, soft strong lips caressing the skin on my neck. Part of me didn’t want it. I wanted to push him off my body, punish him for taking away a first that I’d dreamed of having with a man I loved. But at the same time I strangely didn’t want him to stop. This feeling, this strange feeling for the savage but mysterious man, was engulfing me.

My back arched as his lips continued to caress my neck. The feeling intensified when the hand on my chest cupped my breast.

Against my will, a moan slipped from my throat and my eyes rolled at the forbidden feel of his hot mouth on my skin. “Mmm,” he murmured as his teeth scraped slowly to the edge of my shoulder. “So sweet.”

An ache hit me between my legs. I tried to push the feeling away. But as I glanced down and saw his glittering blue eyes looking back up at me, the tip of his tongue laving my skin, my heart pounded and the ache built higher still.

He traveled farther down my body, until his knees hit the floor and his mouth was level with my breasts.

Both of his hands fell to grip the sides of my waist. His chin flicked up so his face was angled toward mine. His thumbs stroked along my hips, slowly, teasing. I held my breath; then he parted his mouth and asked, “What is your name, kotyonok?”

Exhaling deep, I whispered, “Elene.”

He froze, his thumbs stilling on my ribs. His head tipped to the side, and without taking his eyes off mine he moved his mouth forward until he stopped just a fraction from the tip of my nipple. My body tensed when he licked his lips and, leaning the final inch forward, his tongue flicked against my hard flesh. I cried out at the sensation, my fingers wrapping around the chain suspending my arms.

The monster hummed as he swallowed down my taste. His eyes closed, and when they opened again they were alight with hunger.

Shuffling closer, I almost whimpered seeing his naked length hard and aroused. And he was huge. I had nothing to compare it to, but I instinctively knew he was larger than most. The intense ache between my legs vied with intense trepidation. Would he take me?

My pulse raced with fear at the thought, but all those thoughts dissipated as his tongue once again licked at my nipple. Only this time it was not a flick; the flat of his wet tongue laved over me. He licked and licked until I feared my chains would snap under the strain of my fisting hands. My skin was on fire. It flushed. A bead of sweat trickled down my spine.

His hand moved to palm my flesh, and with a soft growl his mouth swallowed the flesh of my breast, before sucking it back, his teeth rolling the nipple in its grip.

My head snapped back, and I emitted a muffled cry. My legs strained and pulled at my ankle shackles. It felt too good, my body bending at the heat of pleasure coursing through my veins.

Glancing down, my eyes widened as he watched me. But that was not what had me entranced; that honor belonged to his free hand, which palmed his length. His gaze held mine captive as his hand roughly, but slowly, stroked up and down the flesh of his hard shaft.

Knowing he had my breathless attention, the monster moved in again. He repeated the action—sucking, licking, and palming my breast until I fought to gain my breath, fought to maintain composure.

Pressure began building between my legs. I fought to close my thighs, to relieve the ache, the pleasurable pain throbbing in my core, but the shackles held tight.