Capture Me: The Complete Trilogy

Chapter 21

21Lucas

Yulia is silent and withdrawn as she makes us breakfast, and I have no doubt she’s thinking about him—the man who holds her heart. She’s probably wondering what’s going to happen to him, beating herself up with the knowledge that she inadvertently betrayed him. I want to grab her and order her to put him out of her thoughts, but that would just make things worse. If she realizes I know about him, she might plead for his life, and I don’t want that.

I’m going to kill the fucker no matter what, and I don’t want her unnecessarily upset.

As it is, there’s no sign of yesterday’s joyous smile, no jokes or laughter as she moves about the kitchen, performing her task. With the fork incident fresh in my mind, I keep an extra-careful eye on her, making sure she doesn’t conceal anything else. I suppose it’s arrogant of me to let my prisoner walk around like this, untied and with access to things that could be used as weapons. I’m fairly sure I can contain her as long as I see her attack coming, but there’s always a chance she might catch me off-guard one day.

She’s dangerous, but like a challenging mission, that fact only excites me.

The breakfast Yulia makes is a simple one: an omelet with cheese and a bowl of strawberries for dessert. I could’ve theoretically made that, except my eggs would’ve been either rubbery or runny, and the cheese would’ve gotten burned on the edges of the frying pan. With Yulia, none of that happens. The omelet comes out light, fluffy, and perfectly cheesy, and even the strawberries taste better than I recall.

“This is amazing,” I tell her as I devour my portion, and Yulia nods in a quiet acknowledgement of my thanks. Aside from that, she doesn’t look at me or speak to me.

It’s as if I don’t exist.

Her behavior infuriates me, but I contain my anger. I know I deserve her silent treatment. I might not have hurt her physically, but that doesn’t lessen the severity of what I did.

I tortured her, used her worst fear to break her.

Annoyed by the sharp prickle of guilt, I get up and wash the dishes, using the routine task to distract me from my churning thoughts. As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing Yulia a favor by getting her lover out of her life. It’s clear that he’s in no way worthy of her. He let her go to Moscow to sleep with other men, and he left her to rot in the Russian jail for two months. Agent or not, the man is a weakling, and she’s better off without him. When Yulia came on to me last night, I thought that by some miracle she forgave me and decided to forget her lover, but now I see that was just wishful thinking on my part.

She’d been too traumatized to know what she was doing.

“Ready for the walk?” I say, approaching the table. Yulia is sipping her tea and still not looking at me. “I have a call in less than two hours, so if you want to come out, we should go now.”

She gets up, still silent, and I see that her face is ashen. She’s upset. No, more than upset—devastated.

The guilt bites at me again, and I push it away with effort. “Come here,” I say, taking her hand. Her slender fingers are cold in my grasp as I lead her out of the kitchen. “We’ll go out back.”

The bedroom has a door that opens into the backyard, and I use that entrance now to avoid prying eyes. I don’t want anyone seeing my prisoner outside and spreading rumors. Until I have something tangible to give Esguerra about UUR, I don’t want to broadcast our relationship. My boss does owe me a favor, but it’s better if it’s a combo deal—the heads of our enemies alongside the news that I want to keep Yulia for my own.

“Sorry it’s so hot,” I say when we step out. It’s only eight-thirty in the morning, but it’s already like a steam bath. It’ll probably rain within the next hour, but for now, the sky is clear with just a few white clouds. “Next time, we’ll go earlier.”

“No, this is fine,” Yulia says, stopping in a clearing between the trees. Surprised, I glance at her and see that her face has a tinge of color now. As I watch, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back. She looks like a plant absorbing the sunlight, and I realize that’s exactly what she’s doing: basking in the sun, taking its warmth into herself.

“You like it here.” I don’t know why that surprises me. I suppose I pictured somebody from her part of the world being acclimated to the cold and hating the humid heat of the rainforest. “You like this weather.”

She brings her head down and opens her eyes to look at me. “Yes,” she says quietly. “I do.”

“I’m glad.” Squeezing Yulia’s hand, I smile at her. “It took me a while to get used to it, but now I can’t imagine living someplace cold.”

She doesn’t smile back, but her hand feels warmer in my hold as we resume walking, going deeper into the forest that borders the compound. Esguerra’s estate is huge, extending for miles through the thick canopy of the rainforest. Back in the eighties, Juan Esguerra, Julian’s father, processed vast quantities of cocaine here, but few traces of that remain now. The jungle has already swallowed up the old shack-style labs, nature reclaiming its turf with brutal swiftness.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Yulia says as we enter another clearing, and I see her looking at the tropical flowers that line a tiny pond a dozen feet away. She sounds oddly wistful.

I release her hand and turn to face her. “It’s your new home.” Reaching up, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Once everything is settled, you’ll be able to come here whenever you want.”

I intend that as a reassurance, a promise of good things to come, but her face tightens at my words, and I know she’s worrying about her lover again.

Motherfucker. I wish the man was already six feet under, so she could move on from him.

Reminding myself to be patient, I drop my hand and say, “This is one of several nice places on this estate. There’s also a pretty lake not too far away.”

Yulia doesn’t reply. She turns away and walks over to the pond. Her flip-flops are barely visible as she stands in the thick grass. The sight of the green stalks brushing her ankles makes me realize that I should get her some sneakers for these walks. There are snakes here, and all kinds of bugs. Wildlife, too—some guards have reported seeing jaguars on the grounds.

Suddenly concerned, I join Yulia at the pond and inspect the grass nearby. There’s nothing particularly threatening, so I decide to let her be. She appears lost in thought as she gazes into the water, her smooth forehead creased in a faint frown. The sunlight makes her hair glow, and I notice for the first time that some of the strands are a near-white shade of gold, while others are a darker honey color. There are no roots showing, so her color must be entirely natural.

“Were your parents this blond?” I wonder idly, stepping behind her. Unable to resist, I gather her hair in my hands, marveling at its thickness. “You don’t often see this shade with adults.”

“My mom was.” Yulia doesn’t seem to mind my messing with her hair, so I indulge myself, running my fingers through the silky mass and then moving it to one side to expose her long, slender neck. “My dad’s color was more of a sandy brown, a few shades darker than your hair. He was really light when he was a kid, though.”

“I see.” I lean down to breathe in her peach scent, but can’t resist the urge to nuzzle the tender spot under her right ear. Her skin is warm and delicate under my lips, and as I graze my teeth over her earlobe, I hear her breath hitch. Instantly, desire spikes through me, my body hardening with need.

“Yulia…” I release her hair to cup her soft, round breasts. “I want you so f*****g much.”

She shivers, her lips parting on a silent moan as her head falls back against my shoulder and her eyes close. She might be upset about her lover, but she still wants me—that much is undeniable. Her n*****s are stiff as they press into my palms through her tank top, and her pale skin is painted pink with a warm flush.

Last night wasn’t an aberration after all. Yulia might not have forgiven me for my actions, but her body has.

Still kissing her neck, I bend my knees and tug her down to the grass with me. Turning her to face me, I stretch out on my back and have her straddle me, her hands braced on my shoulders. Yulia’s eyes are open now, and she stares at me as I hold her hips and rock my pelvis upward, pressing my erection against her s*x. Even through the layers of our clothing, it feels good to grind into her, especially when I see her blue eyes darken in response.

“Come here,” I murmur, moving one hand up her back. Curving my fingers around her nape, I pull her head toward me and kiss her, swallowing her startled exhalation. She tastes like strawberries and herself, her tongue curling tentatively around mine as I deepen the kiss. I press her tighter against me, needing to get closer, but our clothes are in the way.

Growing impatient, I stop kissing her for a moment and move my hands down to grab the bottom of her tank top. With one smooth motion, I pull it off, exposing her gorgeous breasts—breasts that she immediately covers with her hands.

“Lucas, wait.” Yulia casts an anxious glance behind us. “What if—”

“Nobody will bother us here.” I reach for her shorts. “We’re too far off the beaten path.”

“But the guards—”

“The nearest guard towers are too far away to see us here.” I unzip her shorts and roll over, stretching her out on the grass. Tugging her shorts down her legs, I add with a dark smile, “We’re all alone, beautiful.”

I take off my own clothes next, and Yulia watches me with a torn, almost tormented expression. I don’t know if she feels like she’s betraying him by wanting me, but I’m not about to put up with it. As soon as I’m naked, I cover her with my body and wedge my knees between her legs, spreading them open.

“Look at me,” I order when she tries to close her eyes and turn her face away. Holding myself up on my elbows, I capture her face between my palms and repeat, “Look at me, Yulia.” Her s*x is less than an inch from the tip of my c**k, and the lust is beginning to cloud my brain. Before I can take her, though, I need this from her.

I need to know she belongs to me.

Yulia opens her eyes, and I see tears swimming there. She blinks rapidly, as if trying to contain them, but they spill out, streaking down her temples. At the sight of them, something squeezes inside me, a strange ache awakening deep within my chest.

“Don’t,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss the moisture away. “Don’t, sweetheart. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.” The taste of salt on my lips makes the ache intensify. “Don’t cry. You’re okay. I’m going to take care of you.”

Her tears don’t stop—they just keep coming—and I can’t restrain myself. The hunger inside me is like a demon clawing its way to the surface. Taking her mouth in a deep kiss, I thrust into her and feel her slick flesh enveloping me, squeezing me so tightly that I shudder with violent pleasure.

She tenses underneath me, a raw, pained sound ripping from her throat, but I don’t stop. I can’t. The need to claim her is potent and primal, an instinct born in the mists of time. She was made for me, this beautiful, broken girl. She was destined to be mine. Still kissing her, I drive into her, again and again, as deep as I can go, and eventually, I feel her hands on my back as she embraces me, holding me close.

Binding me as tightly as I’ve bound her.