“Malia,” Maks calls to me. The shirtless man is more enticing than schoolyard games with my cousin’s entrails. My eyes shift to his, and he crooks his finger to follow.
“I hope you have a better attitude when I come out of that room,” I warn Alexei. “Perhaps some gratitude when I have your answers for you.”
Maks and I enter a small room made entirely of concrete. The heavy door closes, and Maks locks us inside. A small set of instruments lay on a table in the corner, and a beaten man sits tied to a chair above a drain in the center of the room. The smell of piss and blood invade my nose as I approach him.
“What? They bring in pussy to do their dirty work?” The man smiles, blood coating his once white teeth. “The big, bad Bratva need bitches as muscle.”
A cackle erupts from my throat, drowning out the man’s taunts. I trail one long, black manicured nail along his chest, circling behind him. His breathing becomes shorter and deeper as I disappear from his vision. Reaching up, I grab the single swaying light, stilling it, bringing everything in the room to a halt. I bend down, letting my lips brush across the shell of the man’s ear, meeting Maks intense gaze.
“What’s your name?” I whisper.
“Edward,” he mutters.
Humming, I run my hands along his shoulders. Gliding one hand up to his throat, digging in my sharp nails, and pull his head back to meet my eyes.
“Your real name.”
“Fuck. You,” he spits.
As I meet Maks’s stare once more, he nods towards the table. Releasing the captured man, I slowly stride over. My fingers brush along each toy of torture and none call to me, so I settle with using my knife instead.
The rat’s eyes track my movements. Strolling in front of Maks, I see desire fills his obsidian gaze. I smirk, the predator in me savoring the two very different prey I’ve found. Then I turn to the man in the chair, giving the other my back.
“Did you know tendons work like rubber bands?” I question, grinding my ass on Maks’ dick behind me.
A surprised grunt sounds from his throat, his hands finding my waist, pulling me closer.
“They bounce and stretch back into shape.”
Pushing off Maks, earning a protesting groan. I close in on the rat. Circling him once more and bending at my knees, I lower myself behind him.
I pop my head around his frame, catching Maks’ attention. “Be a doll, Maksy, and pull him forward.”
Without question, Maks stalks forward, yanking on our rat’s shirt to pull him forward slightly. Just as I expected, he uses what weight he can on his feet to steady his balance. His legs bound at his calves do little for him but perfectly serve my purpose.
Maks flicks up a questioning brow, and I answer with a smile. “When enough tension is applied, sudden release creates the most beautiful sound.”
I slice my blade across his Achilles heel, savoring the sound of the satisfying pop from the released tendon before the screams of agony follow. Maks lets go, letting the chair teeter-totter from the force while I round the chair and drop my ass on his lap. I shift my weight back and forth, putting more pressure on his wound. I’m gifted with more screams that fill me with excitement.
With the tip of my blood-soaked knife, I lift his chin.
“Please,” he begs.
A tear runs down his cheek to his chin, dropping onto my blade.
I frown at the freshly cleaned trail on my blade.
“Pity. I think she’s prettier covered.”
I wriggle my bottom a few more times for good measure. “Your legs aren’t very comfortable, and I’d have loved to relax a little with all this tight leather and heels. Shame.”
“Let me go. I’ll tell you what you want. Please.”
Digging the tip deeper into his throat, I cut off his words and purse my lips in mockery.
What can I say?
Tawny never taught me any manners, and I love to play with my food.