Claim Me (17 page)

L
ucas

A
fter I talk
to the new recruits on the field, I catch Yulia’s eye and wave at her, motioning for her to return. She grabs her brother and starts walking back, and I head over to the pull-up bar, figuring I’d get some quick exercise in while I wait.

I’m midway through my first set of wide-grip pull-ups when I see Esguerra approach.

“What’s up?” I ask, letting go of the bar to land on the grass. The sun is unbearably hot, and I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my face. “Were you looking for me?”

“We need to figure out the Rosa situation,” he says without preamble. “Nora is after me to lift her house arrest, but we still don’t know if—”

“We do, actually,” I interrupt. “I was going to talk to you this afternoon. I just got confirmation from Yulia that Nora
was
involved.”

Esguerra’s face darkens. “What did your spy say, exactly?”

I convey my conversation with Yulia almost word for word. “So yeah,” I conclude, “looks like it wasn’t Rosa’s own initiative—not that it means she should get away with it.” Nor should Nora, in my opinion, but I know better than to say that.

“Fuck.” Esguerra spins around, his posture rigid with fury, and I see the moment he spots the approaching figures. Turning back toward me, he says incredulously, “Is that—”

“Yes.” I meet his gaze coolly. “That’s Yulia and her brother, Michael. I told you we grabbed him during the trip to Ukraine, remember?”

The corner of his real eye begins to twitch. “Grabbed him, yes. Gave him free run of the compound alongside his treacherous sister, no. What the fuck are you doing, Lucas? You said she’s not getting off scot-free.”

“And I said I’m keeping her.” The steel in my voice matches the iciness of his expression. “She’s mine to punish or not. Just as Nora is yours.”

For a moment, I’m sure Esguerra’s going to hit me, and I tense, ready to strike back. But he takes a breath instead and steps back, his hands hanging loose at his sides. Turning, he looks at Yulia and her brother, who are now less than fifty feet away.

Yulia must’ve spotted him because she’s moving slower now, her face white with anxiety. Her brother is walking next to her, but as they get closer, she grabs his wrist and steps in front of him, as if trying to hide him from Esguerra’s view.

“She’s mine,” I repeat in a low, hard voice as Yulia comes to a complete stop some thirty feet away, her gaze flitting from me to Esguerra and back again. “If you do anything to them…”

Esguerra turns his head to look at me. “I won’t.” His eyes gleam coldly. “But, Lucas, do us both a favor. Keep her as far away from me as you can.”

I incline my head, but he’s already walking away, heading in the opposite direction from where Yulia and her brother are standing.

O
n our walk home
, Yulia is silent, and I know she’s worrying about Esguerra. Diego came back to get Michael shortly after my confrontation with Esguerra, and Yulia smiled and gave her brother a parting hug. Since then, however, she’s barely said a word, her gaze distant and her shoulders tense as she walks next to me.

I want to reassure her, tell her that she’s stressing over nothing, but the words stick in my throat. Esguerra’s estate is large in terms of acreage, but population-wise, it’s more like a small village. Everybody runs into each other on a regular basis, and keeping Yulia out of Esguerra’s hair won’t be easy—at least if I do as I promised and let her roam on her own.

Esguerra might not harm her in the near term, but he won’t forgive her either.

As we get closer to the house, Yulia’s gait slows, and I realize the long walk must’ve tired her out, depleting her body’s all-too-recently replenished strength reserves. Without a second thought, I bend down and swing her up into my arms, ignoring her startled squeak and my ribs’ faint twinge of pain.

“What are you doing?” she exclaims as I resume walking. “Lucas, you don’t need to carry me—”

“Hush.” I press her tighter against my chest, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to push me away. “I’m carrying you home.”

She stops struggling, and after a moment, she winds her arms around my neck and lays her head on my shoulder. “Lucas…” Her voice is as weary as I’ve ever heard it. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and I.” She lifts her head to look up at me, and I see the dark shadow of despair in her gaze. “It’s not going to work.”

“Bullshit.” I pick up my pace, a burst of fury propelling me forward. “It’s going to work if I want it to.”

Yulia slowly shakes her head. “No. Maybe in another life—”

“In another life, our paths would’ve never crossed, beautiful. This is the only way you could’ve been mine.”

If her parents hadn’t been killed in that car crash, if I hadn’t been working for Esguerra, if UUR hadn’t given her that assignment… The number of ways I could’ve
not
met her is endless, but I did meet her, and there’s no fucking way I’m giving her up.

Yulia sighs and places her head back on my shoulder, letting me carry her without further protests. I know she’s not convinced, however.

Like me, she’s seen too much of this world to believe in happy endings.

“
L
ucas
, I think Misha should go home.”

I pause with the spoon halfway to my mouth. “Home?”

“To his parents,” Yulia clarifies, putting down her own utensil. Her bowl of soup steams in front of her, mostly eaten. “His adoptive parents.”

“I thought he was with your agency.” I put down my spoon and wipe my mouth with my napkin.

I’ve been expecting something like this since the incident this morning, and I’m not looking forward to this conversation.

“He was with UUR of his own free will, yes, but by all indications, he’s also close to his parents.” Yulia’s gaze is unflinching. “They let him join against their better judgement, and I’m sure they’re going crazy with worry for him now.”

I drum my fingers on the table. “So you want me to what, bring him back to them? What about the fact that you haven’t seen him in eleven years? Don’t you want to spend some time with your brother?”

Yulia’s face tightens. “Of course I do, but I can’t be that selfish. Misha doesn’t belong here, and he’s not safe. I saw the way Esguerra was looking at him… at us both. He hates us, Lucas. I know you said you’ll protect us, but—”

“He won’t lay a finger on either one of you,” I say, and mean every word. As much as I respect Esguerra, I’ll kill him before I let him harm Yulia. “You’re safe, and so is your brother.”

“But for how long?” She leans forward. “Until you get tired of me? And then what? We’re at Esguerra’s mercy?”

“I won’t get tired of you.” I can’t picture a day I wouldn’t want her. I’ve lusted after women before, but never like this. My craving for Yulia feels like a part of me now, like something imprinted on my DNA. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that, but okay, let’s assume for a moment that it’s true.” She pushes her bowl aside. “That still leaves us with the fact that your job is dangerous, Lucas. Your
life
is dangerous. Just look at what happened when you went to Chicago. If there’s a bullet coming at Esguerra, it’s more than likely to hit you first.”

I look at her silently, knowing she’s right. I’d said as much to Michael. If something were to happen to me, Yulia and her brother would be on their own, in a place where nobody will raise a finger to help them.

No, it’s worse than that. If I were gone, they’d likely be killed on the spot.

“I can’t send Michael back right now,” I say after a couple of moments. Leaning back, I lace my fingers behind my head and give Yulia an even look. “Not if you want him to remain safe, at least.”

All color drains from her cheeks. “Why?”

“Because Operation UUR is in full swing.” The hacking program we used during our raid on the black site downloaded and transmitted a lot of confidential data from the agency’s computers. We now have names and cover identities of just about every UUR operative, and we’re systematically taking them out. I don’t explain that to Yulia, though. All I say is, “It would be too dangerous for your brother.”

She understands, and her face turns impossibly paler. “What about his parents? Are they—”

I lower my arms and lean forward. “I already put out word that Obenko’s sister’s family is not to be touched.” I did that as soon as I realized Michael’s connection to them. “However, their names
are
in our files,” I continue before Yulia can say anything, “and given your brother’s very direct involvement with the agency, it’s best if he stays here for now.”

“Oh God.” She pushes her chair back and stands up, her hand pressed to her mouth. She’s visibly shaking. “You’re murdering them all, aren’t you?”

My eyebrows snap together. “You asked me to spare Michael, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” I rise to my feet and walk around the table. Reaching Yulia, I curl my fingers around her wrist and pull her hand down, away from her trembling lips. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t?” I tug her closer to me. “Your brother left unharmed, even though he’s connected with the agency? And I’m even extending the courtesy to his adoptive parents. So you see, it’s all going to work out.”

Tears glisten in Yulia’s eyes as she shakes her head, but she doesn’t move away as I let go of her wrist and grasp her hips, molding her lower body against mine. My growing erection presses against her belly, and my breathing picks up as molten heat moves through my veins. Our unfinished dinner, UUR, her brother—none of that matters right now.

All I can focus on is the beautiful girl in my arms and the pain in her big blue eyes.

“Yulia…” I breathe in her scent, my hunger intensifying as her tongue flicks out to moisten her lips. I’m leaning in to taste the glossy softness of those lips when she presses her palms against my chest, pushing with all her strength to keep me at bay.

“Lucas, please, listen to me…” Her chest rises and falls in a shallow rhythm. “Most of the agents had nothing to do with the crash. It was Obenko’s idea, and he’s now dead. You don’t need to—”

“Forget about them,” I growl, my hands tightening on Yulia’s hips when she tries to pull away. My frustrated lust adds to my anger, and my tone sharpens as I say, “The agency is not your problem anymore. You’re with me now, understand?”

“But, Lucas, they’re—”

“Living on borrowed time,” I say harshly. “Those who are still living, that is. Your agency killed dozens of our men, and they’re going to pay for that. The only ones who’ll be spared are your brother and you.”

The tears are streaking down her cheeks now, but the sight doesn’t sway me. There’s nothing she can say that would convince me to forgive our enemies. They chose to strike at us, and now they’re reaping the consequences of their actions. It’s just that simple.

Still, I don’t like seeing Yulia upset.

Letting go of her hips, I raise my hand to brush away her tears. “Don’t cry for them,” I say in a slightly softer tone. “They don’t deserve it. You know that.”

“That’s not true.” Her voice is strained. “Some of them might not deserve it, but many are guilty of nothing more than wanting to serve their country and—”

“And the forty-five men who died on that plane were guilty of nothing more than working for Esguerra.” I drop my hand, my anger returning in full force. “Nobody is innocent in this business, beautiful—not even you.”

Yulia takes a step back, but I catch her arm before she can back away.

“You haven’t asked about Kirill,” I say coldly. My cock throbs in my jeans, but I push the lust aside, knowing I need to deal with this once and for all. “Don’t you want to know what measures we’re taking to find him?”

She blinks. “I assumed he died. His wounds—”

“There’s no body and no burial record of any sort. No sign of him, period. Dead men aren’t that good at covering up their tracks.”

Yulia draws in an unsteady breath. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying the bastard is most likely alive—and hiding with help from others in your agency.” I pause, trying to rein in my rage. When I speak again, my voice is moderately calmer. “The people whose lives you’re trying to save are the same ones who let that monster keep his job and lied to you about it. Our operation in Ukraine is not just about retaliation anymore. It’s also about tracking him down.”

Yulia stares at me, and I see the torturous conflict in her gaze. She wants Kirill dead just as much as I do, but she doesn’t want UUR agents to die in the process. I understand that on some level; she must’ve gotten to know many of them during her training, maybe even become friends with a few, so she doesn’t want their deaths on her conscience.

Unfortunately for those agents,
my
conscience can handle their deaths just fine.

“So what do I tell Misha?” Yulia finally asks. Her voice is still hoarse, but the tears are drying on her face. “Is he supposed to sit tight and wait while you exterminate everyone in UUR? Train with the guards and hope his parents survive the purge?”

“What you tell him is up to you,” I say, refusing to rise to her bait. “I’d be more diplomatic if I were in your shoes, but he’s your brother and you know best. Now”—I use my grip on her arm to tug her closer—“where were we?”

Yulia looks like she’s about to say something else, but I’m done with this discussion.

Wrapping my arms around her slender frame, I bend my head and slant my mouth across her lips.

Y
ulia

L
ucas’s kiss
holds an edge of anger, his lips and tongue punishing as he invades my mouth, and fear-tinged arousal heats my core, adding to my turmoil.

The man I love is killing my former colleagues, and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Lucas break me that time, if he hadn’t come after me, none of this would be happening. Rationally, I understand there were other factors at play—Obenko’s ill-advised attack on Esguerra’s plane, for one—but I still feel responsible for the current mess.

If my brother’s adoptive family dies, it’ll be on me.

It doesn’t help that underneath the crushing press of guilt, I’m not entirely sorry. Somewhere along the way, a root of hatred had taken hold within me, and I didn’t know it until Lucas brought up Kirill’s name. I’d suppressed all thoughts of my former trainer, telling myself that I’d already gotten my revenge, but as soon as Lucas mentioned him, I realized the damage I inflicted wasn’t enough.

I want Kirill dead, wiped off the face of the Earth—along with anyone who might be helping him.

Lucas deepens the kiss, his arms tightening around me, and my head falls back under the pressure of his mouth. His tongue explores me with a hunger that borders on brutality, his teeth tugging at my lower lip, and I moan helplessly, my hands moving up to clutch at his muscled shoulders as he backs me up against the kitchen wall, trapping me there. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and I’m dressed too, but even through our layers of clothing, I can feel the heat of his large body and smell the clean musk of his skin. His erection is like a rock pressing into my stomach, and my nipples tighten, my body responding to his need.

“Fuck, Yulia, I want you,” he mutters, raising his head, and I gasp as one of his big hands slides down my body and cups my sex through my shorts, palming it hard. The heel of his hand puts pressure on my clit, and moisture rushes to my core as he moves his palm in a semi-circle, the rough rhythm shockingly erotic.

“Yes.” My heartbeat thunders in my ears, my muscles tensing with intensifying pleasure. “Oh God, yes…” I don’t know what I’m saying; all I know is I want him—this man, this ruthless killer who’s wrong for me in so many ways. I want him, and I fear him. I hate him, and I love him. The dichotomy of my emotions tears at me, slicing me into pieces, yet it all feels right too, like I’m supposed to be here, in his arms.

Like I belong with him.

He lowers his head to kiss me again, and I latch on to his mouth, responding with the same fierce need. My teeth sink into his lower lip until I taste blood, and it unleashes something violent inside me, a wildness I never knew was there. I’m trapped in his embrace, yet at that moment I feel free—free to rage, free to hurt him as I’ve been hurt. It feels like a chain snapping, and I revel in the sensation, my helplessness giving way to triumph as he tears his mouth away and I see the smear of blood on his lips. His broad chest heaves with labored breaths as he stares down at me, his pale eyes slitted with burning need, and the wildness inside me grows, crowding out fear and reason.

I want him, and I’m not going to deny myself.

Reaching up, I clasp Lucas’s face with both hands and pull his head down, reclaiming his mouth. He’s still palming me between my legs, the hard pressure of his hand keeping me on the edge, but it’s not enough, and I bite his lip again, as desperate for his pain as I am for release.

He shudders in response, and with startling swiftness, spins me around, backing me up against the edge of the table. His arm sweeps out in a violent arc, and my pulse leaps as I hear the bowls shatter, the remnants of our dinner splattering on the floor. It almost jolts me out of my trance-like state, but he’s already laying me on the table, and heat rushes through me again, centering in a pulsing ache between my thighs as he drags my shorts off my legs and yanks down the zipper of his jeans.

We’re still kissing, our lips and tongues dueling with feral hunger, when he drives into me, his thick cock splitting me open. I gasp into his mouth, tensing at the shockwave of sensations. My flesh quivers around him, trying to adjust, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He just starts pounding into me, and I tear my mouth away, my breath coming in pained gasps as his thrusts drag me back and forth on the hard table. His possession is violent, overwhelming, yet I want more. More of his roughness, more of this dark, savage heat.

I want him to match the animal inside me, to hurt me as I’m hurting him.

My legs come up, wrapping around his hips, and I sink my teeth into the corded muscle of his neck, reveling in the taste of salt and man. His big body shudders, and he rasps out a curse, his pace picking up until he’s all but drilling into me. My hands fist in his sweat-drenched shirt, and the tension inside me grows, the heat between my legs swelling and intensifying. It seems to be taking over all my senses, crowding out everything but the need to come.

“Lucas,” I gasp, feeling the swell begin to crest. “Oh, fuck, Lucas!”

Impossibly, his thrusts pick up speed, and I’m hurled over the edge, the orgasm hitting me with massive force. The pleasure blasts through my nerve endings, so sharp it’s almost painful, and I cry out, my muscles clenching and releasing in pulsing waves. My heart hammers uncontrollably as aftershocks ripple through my body, but Lucas is not done yet. Before I can so much as draw in a breath, he pulls out and flips me onto my stomach, bending me over the table.

“Is this what you want?” he bites out, driving into me again. Gripping my hair, he forces my upper body to arch off the table. “For me to fuck you? To use you and make you hurt?”

“Yes.” Oh God, yes. His cock is thick and burning hot inside me, a threat and a promise all at once. I didn’t know I wanted this, but I do. I want the pain he inflicts to be the only one in my mind, his touch the only one in my memory. It’s sick and utterly illogical, but I want Lucas to hurt me so I can forget about Kirill.

“All right.” My captor’s voice is dark and strained. “Remember, you asked for this.”

My pulse spikes, but he’s already pulling my hair harder, making my neck bend at an impossible angle. I cry out, my hands flying up to grab at his wrist, but he ignores my flailing arms and thrusts two fingers of his free hand into my mouth, making me gag from the sudden assault. His fingers are faintly salty, and they feel huge and rough in my mouth, almost as big as a cock. He pushes them in so far that I gag again and spit up saliva—which is apparently what he’s after.

Pulling his wet fingers out of my mouth, he uses his grip on my hair to push me down, flattening my face against the table.

“Wait, Lucas…” Panic explodes in my brain as he moves the hand from my mouth to my ass and starts working one finger into the tight ring of muscle. “I don’t… this isn’t…” I reach back blindly, my hands pushing at his hips, but I have no leverage in this position. I’m bent over the table with his cock deep inside me; even if he weren’t built of solid muscle, there’d be little I could do.

“Shh… It’s going to be okay.” Lucas accompanies the words with a shallow thrust of his cock, and I suck in a breath as his finger presses deeper, the slick coating of my saliva easing the way. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” His hand releases my hair, his palm splaying on my upper back to keep me in place. “We’ve done this before, remember?”

It’s true; he used his finger, and I enjoyed it on some level, but he wants to go further today. I can sense his hunger, and it terrifies me. I want to push away the bad memories, replace them with a hurt of my choosing, but this is too much, too close to my nightmares. I clench my buttocks, trying to keep him out, but the second finger is already pushing into me, making my flesh stretch and burn at the invasion.

“Wait, not like this…” Beyond the burn is a strange, uncomfortable fullness, a feeling of being overstuffed and overtaken. His cock flexes inside me, adding to the sensation, and my breathing turns shallow as sweat trickles down my back. “Please, Lucas…”

He ignores my begging, slowly working his slick fingers into my ass, and my body gives in to his inexorable advance, the muscles stretching because they have to. Panting, I lie with my face pressed against the hard surface of the table and feel his cock throb in my pussy. His fingers are all the way in now, and it
is
too much. My body wasn’t made for this. Everything about this penetration feels wrong and unnatural, like the time when—

Lucas begins to thrust, distracting me from my thoughts, and I realize that somewhere along the way, my straining muscles relaxed slightly, the burn from the invasion lessening. He’s not moving his fingers—he’s just keeping them inside me—and with his cock pumping in and out in a slow, careful rhythm, the sensation isn’t as uncomfortable as it was.

I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. His fingers still feel too large, but there’s no actual pain, and the realization calms me further, drawing my attention to the slowly gathering tension in my core. The thrusting motions of his cock are reigniting my arousal, and the invasive fullness in my ass doesn’t seem to take away from that. In some perverse way, it’s even adding to the intensity.

I may survive this after all.

“Yulia.” Lucas’s voice is hoarse as he withdraws almost all the way. “I’m going to fuck you hard now.”

My heart lurches, all illusion of calm fleeing. “Wait—”

But it’s too late. Before I can finish speaking, he rams his cock back in, pushing me into the edge of the table. I cry out, my hands sliding forward to brace myself, but he’s already withdrawing and thrusting back in. The hard battering of his hips moves me on his fingers, and I cry out again, tensing at the overwhelming sensations. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, keeps fucking me, and the discomfort morphs into something else: a dark, throbbing heat that spreads through my whole body. My heart gallops in my chest, my breathing turns frantic, and I feel myself rocketing to the edge again, the dual invasion of my body intensifying all my senses. The hot musk of sex in the air, the quivering of my overstretched flesh, the restraining pressure of his big hand on my back—it all adds to my sensory overload, winding me tighter and tighter. My cries grow louder, transforming into screams, and then I shatter, exploding with a force that steals my breath and dims my vision. My muscles spasm, milking his cock and fingers, and I hear his raspy groan as he thrusts in one last time and stops, pulsing deep inside me in release.

Dazed and trembling, I lie there, unable to say or do anything as Lucas slowly pulls his fingers out and lifts his hand from my back. His cock is still inside me, but after a moment, he withdraws that too. Cool air washes over my heated flesh as he steps back, and I feel the slickness coating my folds—my own moisture combined with his seed.

“Hang on, baby,” he murmurs, stepping away, and I hear the sink running.

A minute later, he returns, holding a wet paper towel. By then, I’ve recovered enough to push myself off the table and stand on shaking legs, and I take the towel from him, using it to mop at the wetness between my legs. Lucas watches me with hooded gaze, his jeans already zipped up, and a hot flush crawls through my hairline as I see my shorts on the floor, lying next to the mess of broken bowls and spilled food.

Swallowing, I ball the used paper towel in my hand and turn toward my shorts, but Lucas catches my arm.

“I’ve got it,” he says, his pale eyes gleaming. “Go take a shower. I’ll join you in a moment.”

I don’t argue, and a minute later, I’m standing under the hot spray, my mind mercifully blank. True to his word, Lucas joins me in a bit, and I close my eyes, leaning against him as he washes me from head to toe, taking care of me yet again. I’m glad he doesn’t say anything or ask me any questions. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to articulate why I wanted something so dark from him… why even now, after he pushed me far beyond my limits, I feel grateful for the experience.

When we’re both clean, Lucas leads me out of the shower and wraps a towel around me before grabbing one for himself. He’s still silent, his gaze oddly watchful, and finally, I feel the urge to speak.

“You didn’t fuck me in the ass,” I say, my hands twisting in the towel. “Why?”

“Because you weren’t ready.” He finishes drying himself and casually hangs up his towel, revealing his body in all its powerful masculinity. “Not to mention, we’d need some real lube for that. You’re tight, and, well…” He glances down at his cock, which, even soft, is impressively sized.

“Right.” I swallow the sudden lump of fear in my throat. “You’re bigger than your two fingers.”

“Yes, somewhat,” he says drily, and I see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

For some reason, knowing he finds this funny makes me flush again. Turning, I step toward the door to exit the bathroom, but Lucas steps in front of me, his expression turning serious.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping my chin. His thumb brushes over my lower lip in a gentle caress. “Every part of you will be mine eventually. You’re going to forget him, I promise you that.”

I stare at him, equal parts startled and terrified by his perceptiveness, but Lucas is already lowering his hand and turning away.

“Come,” he says, opening the door. “Let’s go get dressed. We’ll make something else for lunch.”

He heads down the hallway, and I follow, my thoughts in disarray.

I’m not sure what I expected from my new captivity, but this—whatever this is—wasn’t it.