Page 73 of Jetmir

The weight of his words hit me and my eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me, wife.”

Dozer wiggled in my arms, whining to get to my husband—stinking traitor—while inexplicable energy coursed through me, bubbling with the sole goal of survival. I had to get as far away from this man as possible.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I swung my clenched fist backward, aiming for where I hoped his balls would be. It was a desperate strike fueled by instinct more than precision. My knuckles connected with something solid, and a sharp groan escaped him. Judging by the sound, I’d come painfully close to my target, but not close enough.

Although his hold on my neck loosened and I took that opportunity to launch forward and resume running. But the sound of his footsteps, long and heavy, followed right after me. I knew my chances of escape were slim to none, but I refused to give up.

My limbs shook and my pulse buzzed in my ears despite my attempts to remain calm.

I ran faster and faster, but not fast enough judging by his footsteps that followed close behind me. The thud, thud, thud against my rib cage increased in strength and speed.

The docks were within reach when I was yanked back into his hard chest and restrained. I slumped forward, swallowing a sob.

With his free hand, he took Dozer from my arms and lowered him down. “Go home, Dozer,” he commanded gruffly.

And promptly, the little guy ran back. He and I would have to have a serious conversation about where his allegiances lay. Once Dozer disappeared, all Jetmir’s attention was on me and he spun me so we stood chest-to-chest.

“Are we playing hide-and-seek or prey and predator, my angel?” His deep voice vibrated against my skin, making goose bumps rise.

I opened my mouth to respond, only to realize there was no good way to answer that question.

“No matter,” he said, his voice carrying a dark edge, “you’ll end up with your hands tied and my head buried between your legs either way.”

Jetmir reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of rosary beads. For a split second, my brain refused to grasp it despite his earlier threats.

He took my wrists into one large hand and bound them with the rosary, yanking them tighter with every loop as the wooden beads dug into my skin.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

We’d started this with him in handcuffs. Now the tables had turned and I was the one restrained, not by steel, but by this symbol of faith he’d twisted into something more sinister.

He gave the knot a final tug, testing it. The beads creaked under the strain but held. So did the knot.

A dejected breath spilled out of my lungs as I flexed my wrists, searching for even the slightest bit of slack. There was none.

One moment I was standing in place, and the next, I was being wrenched back by my hair. It wasn’t exactly rough, but it drew a yelp from my lips, nonetheless.

He placed his one hand at my throat while his grip on my scalp remained mercilessly firm. His leather scent overwhelmed me. Or maybe it was his raw and controlled breathing.

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, my angel.”

I pursed my lips and tilted my chin up in defiance. “No, Jetmir. It’s you who’s unleashed something.”

“Let’s go back home, wife.”

“This isn’t my home,” I screamed. “You better sleep with one eye open because I’ll slice your throat the first chance I get.”

He chuckled darkly.

“Make sure you do it right, or I’ll be right behind you.”

He took my mouth for a hard kiss and a craving—no, need—surfaced, demanding to be satisfied. Fuck this man and the voodoo spell he had on my body. I kissed him back with the same ferocity, sucking on his tongue and biting his lip, our teeth clashing.

I wrapped my fingers around his own that rested on my neck and whispered with a challenge, “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll do it right.”

“I believe you,” he said, his voice low.