Page 48 of Coveted By Cupid

“Pathetic,” Mikhail mutters, sneering at me with disgust.

“Da, but effective,” Kirill adds. “A broken woman is easier to control.”

“Exactly,” I say. “I knew you’d understand.”

Kirill’s lips turn up into a twisted smirk. “It’s only fair I fuck what’s yours after you soiled mine.”

I say nothing, hating the idea of him putting his dirty hands on Vanessa. However, I only have myself to blame. I asked for this, to break the woman I want to be with and make her believe I’m worthy of her love again.

“And what of the biker?” Mikhail asks. “What connection does he have to her?”

I shrug, not trusting my voice to give me away.

“Perhaps nothing,” Kirill answers. “For now, we lie low. Let them think we’ve moved on. We can always fill inventory by raiding the unhoused camps. They will have to do until we’re certain the MCs are not tracking us.”

“And Vanessa?” I ask, wanting to know what will happen with her.

“She’s off-limits for now.”

I stammer, flustered. “W—Why?”

“Like all merchandise, when it’s hot, you avoid it. She’ll be lying low after being attacked, resting and healing. No doubt she’ll file a police report and they’ll be watching her, waiting to see if we return,” Mikhail explains. “If we try to grab her now, we’ll likely get caught.”

“But when?” I demand. “I want her back.”

“Patience,” Kirill says. “When the opportunity arises, we’ll take her, and then you can have our sloppy seconds back.”

Both Russians laugh, slapping me on the back as they exit my apartment, leaving me shaken.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

VANESSA

Iwake with a full bladder and a splitting headache in a dark room. I know I’m not in my own place. If I were, I’d be able to see something. My blinds are crap, barely filtering out the light.

Where am I?

With my head pounding, I slowly rise from a bed—big, comfortable, but not mine.

My feet touch the ground, finding solid wooden planks. With my hands out in front of me to stop me from running into anything, I walk forward. My hand touches something soft—heavy fabric. I realize they’re drapes and pull them back.

The morning sun hits me in my face like a wrecking ball, hurting my eyes and head. I quickly shut the drapes again, waiting for the pain to settle.

I vaguely recall the event that transpired after Cupid came to my rescue. I remember his soothing voice giving me reassurance that I was safe, being carried in his brawny arms, and his club’s medic asking me questions. Scalpel, I think his name was. He said I have a concussion.

Gently, I touch the knot on my forehead and wince. It still hurts, maybe a tad more this morning.

Carefully, I inch back the curtain, letting my eyes adjust slowly to the light. When I’ve pulled back the curtain far enough to see outside, I look out the tall window.

Below is a downtown street lined with motorcycles the full length of the block. Bikers wearing Royal Bastard MC leather cuts lean against their bikes, talking to each other or walking in and out of the building I’m in. There are old brick buildings across the street with people walking along the sidewalks, going about their day. And judging by the sun in the sky, I’d say it’s mid-morning.

Though I don’t remember coming here last night, I’m certain I must be in Cupid’s clubhouse, in his personal space. He must have moved me when I was sleeping.

Where is he?

Glancing down at myself, I notice I’m wearing a giant t-shirt. Definitely not mine. Although I’d put money on it being Cupid’s.

When did he undress me? It’s not like he hasn’t already seen me naked. Still, I wasn’t aware.