Zaal’s nostrils flared and his lips tightened. His thrusts pumped faster still, and I knew this was it, knew he was about to fall … fall over the edge with me.

On a cry, and a final hard thrust by Zaal, my pussy clamped down on his dick and I burst apart at the seams. Stars glittered behind my eyes as I came, the force of my orgasm causing Zaal to bellow out a roar.

Zaal’s chest was damp with sweat, and he dropped his head to the crook of my neck. My eyes fluttered closed, Zaal’s length still jerking, grunts escaping his mouth. His breathing evened out and I placed my hand on the back of his head; I had to hold him close. I needed to anchor myself. My heart felt full to the brim with love, so full I felt I needed his touch to keep in control.

And I wanted him to know.

I wanted him to know how he’d changed me.

“Baby,” I whispered. Zaal’s head turned slightly to the side, his heavy breathing still labored. I guided his head higher, until his bright jade eyes were looking right into mine. My heart stuttered at the wild and primal sight of loose strands of long hair falling over his face. They had freed themselves from his knot and I had to slowly inhale at the sight.

Taking a deep breath, knowing I had Zaal’s full attention, I placed my palm on his cheek, and confessed, “I love you, Zaal. I completely and wholeheartedly adore you.”

Zaal’s full lips parted.

His eyebrows pulled together. “Love?” he asked. His green eyes searched mine as if he could find the answer in their depths.

His short breaths warmed my face, and I explained, “It’s a feeling. It’s that fullness you feel in your heart, your soul. The tightness and breathlessness you feel in your chest. It’s passion.” I moved a hand to lay over his chest, directly over his racing heart. “It’s the need, the absolute need to be with another, like this, joined, unwilling to be separated for anything.” I blinked away the mist from my eyes, and added, “It’s you and I, Zaal.

“Love,” he whispered, rolling his tongue around the word.

“Most males and females with full hearts, hearts full for each other, say, ‘I love you,’ and ‘I love you, too.’”

“Mmm…,” he replied, his head slightly shaking as if he disapproved. And my heart sank. A raw surge of pain making me breathless. He didn’t love me back.

Zaal’s skin had flushed as he watched me, a kaleidoscope of emotions flitting across his face. Lifting his hand, he pressed it over his heart, and then over mine. “You are … for me,” he stated, those familiar words, so simple yet so powerful, sounding like heaven to my soul.

Tears fell, and I realized this was him telling me he loved me, too. “You like to say that better?” I asked, my voice breaking in happiness.

He nodded firmly, his harsh face straightening in conviction. “You are … for me. No other male. Just me. And me … for you. This is my, ‘I love you.’ These are my words from my scarred soul. They are not borrowed words, but words from my full heart, and my heart only.”

Those four simple words, “You are … for me,” were the most meaningful words that could ever be spoken.

Zaal leaned down and peppered soft kisses over my face, murmuring, “You are for me, you are for me,” repeatedly, until I thought my body would burst with light.

With my hands on his face, I lifted his face to meet mine. Gazing into those green eyes that had taken me captive all those weeks ago, I replied, “I am for you, Zaal, eternally. I am forever for you.”

The expression that set on Zaal’s face, one of disbelief and pure adoration, stole my breath. He swallowed the heavy emotion built between us, and took my mouth in the most gentle and sweetest of kisses. I wrapped my hands around his wide body, his warmth keeping me safe, making me feel so incredibly safe.

This was perfection.

This was my paradise—

Suddenly a loud crash sounded downstairs. Zaal’s mouth ripped from mine. Gunshots sounded. Loud pain-filled shouts echoed into our room.

I recognized those voices—Savin, Ilya.

“No,” I whispered, terror washing through my body.

Zaal froze when a rush of feet pounded up the stairs. His hand found mine, and just as he was about to pull me from the bed, the door burst open, the wood cracking off the wall. I screamed as men flooded into the room; men with rifles all aimed at our heads.

Zaal shook with rage. Releasing my hands, he ran at the guards. But just as he was about to fight, a man pushed through the door. A dark man with inky black hair and soulless eyes. He was dressed impeccably, and as soon as he laid eyes on Zaal, Zaal ground to a halt.

The blood drained from my face—Jakhua, his master.

Zaal’s face tore apart with agony as he stood before Jakhua. I could see how conditioned he was to obey this man.

Jakhua, with a heady confidence, glanced over to me and his lip curled in disgust.

“221,” he said in cold greeting. Zaal’s body stiffened. I could see his eyes squeezing shut repeatedly at Jakhua’s voice. My heart lurched. He was trying to fight the hold, fight the twenty-year-long leash Jakhua had on him.

Jakhua walked forward and, clicking his fingers at his guards, ordered, “Take the Russian whore.”

White-hot fear spiked through my body as two of his guards walked forward. I shuffled back along to the headboard of the bed, trying to get away.

Zaal had begun to pace, holding on to the sides of his head. But Jakhua’s eyes never left mine. I could feel the repulsion. My stomach rolled in response.

A guard reached out for me, but I kicked out, landing a strike to his stomach. He grunted at the hit, but a second guard was suddenly behind me, and he rammed his fist straight against my cheek. Dazed from the blow, I was unable to fight the guard from wrapping his hand in my hair, using the painful purchase to drag me from the bed.

And then I heard a blood-curdling roar tear from Zaal. Managing to glance up, my vision blurred by the pain, I saw Zaal run at the surrounding guards. He was lethal in his execution.

My desperate gaze sought out Jakhua, and I smiled at the pure look of fear on his face. His personal guards pushed him back, as Zaal knocked Jakhua’s enforcers to the ground.

Jakhua looked my way, and with a smug grin, signaled something to the guards. The guard holding my hair dragged me to my feet. In a rush, my naked body was pushed through the melee and down the stairs. I could hear Zaal snarling, and crashes against the wall, but I couldn’t get free.

The guards pulled me down until I hit the hallway, where they then wrenched open the basement door and pushed me inside.

My blood coursed through my body when I was pulled down the stairs. Footsteps followed behind.

I fought my screams. I needed to be strong. I thought of my father and mother, of Luka and Kisa, and what they’d endured. I wouldn’t give these bastards the satisfaction of hearing or seeing my fear.

I was pushed against the wall, the wall where only weeks before I’d watched Zaal slump against. The guards held out my hands and made quick work of shackling me. The chains were heavy on my limbs and they tightened them until my arms hung above my head.

I almost passed out from the pain, but I gritted my teeth forcing myself to fight.

Suddenly I saw feet and when I looked up Jakhua was standing in front of me, his face betraying his rage. Unprovoked, he struck me across the face with the back of his hand. I closed my eyes at the blast of pain slicing through my head. I felt a wetness drip down my chin.

I tasted the iron taste of blood as it hit my tongue. My lip throbbed. My shoulders ached as the chains kept me suspended, the pain too much to bear.

Jakhua moved back, and he gripped my cheeks. His furious dark eyes met mine. “You’re the Tolstoi bitch who’s sunk her claws into my dog, huh?”