Page 44 of Axel (Belles & Bratva Beasts #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY

RUBY

“But your father,” I warn, standing on the side porch of Delta’s.

“Fuck my father,” Axel seethes. “We’re not living in fear of him.”

“So, you want to chase me? Tonight? Why?”

I’m a flood of emotions. Lust, love, fear, and fight: they collide through my senses. My mind still reels from Vale’s initiation. My body is overwhelmed, too, and now my feet wear familiar shoes to run away.

“This is part of your test. Our test,” Axel reveals. “Do you want what you heard up there?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want it with me ?”

For a moment, his ice cracks. It’s in his eyes; Axel’s holding his heart out for me.

“Yes,” I step toward him. “I’ll never run from you.”

“But you’re worth the chase, Ruby.” He cups my cheek. “And I won’t ever stop until I catch you. I don’t give a fuck who’s chasing us, too.”

“But how?”

“You put one foot in front of the other, but real fast like they’re on fire and?—”

I slap his chest, grinning. “Axel.”

“You have your new bracelet on.” He grins, pointing to the gold charms around my wrist. One is an SOS beacon. He can track me using GPS through an app on his phone, and I can double-click it if I ever need help.

I always wear my smart watch, too, but this jewelry is covert. No one would know it’s a tracking device.

“You have thirty minutes to run to the pineapple fountain.” He loosens his tie. “If you get there first, you get bragging rights, and can name our kittens?—”

“And I pick your next tattoo.”

“Deal.” He smirks. “But if I catch you first?—”

“You pick my first tattoo.”

“No, Wildfire.” He pauses, his tease evaporating. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a blue velvet ring box. “If I catch you, I get to keep you forever.”

Who knew ice could melt you? Because that’s what Axel does to me. He’s sincere. He’s serious. He’s my future. He’s willing to risk everything to have me. But he doesn’t open the ring box. He puts it back in his pocket, making the weight of this even more heart-pounding.

“What if I don’t say yes?” I tease.

“Don’t.” Gently, he grabs my neck. “Fight me. Say no and make me fight for you.”

With his other hand, he caresses my hair. I left my heels, blindfold, and mask in the bathroom of Delta’s. But I still wear his collar with its chain tucked under my posh jacket. I can feel his plug inside me, and the toy in my soaked panties.

This is going to be the most erotic run of my life.

We left the other kings and queens moaning in the throne room. It’s just us while Axel reminds me, “Use your safe word and I stop, or use your panic button, and I’m there. I promise.”

“There?” I smile, shoving his granite chest away. “Where, dickhead?”

With a lightning pivot, I laugh, racing down the stairs, then turning up the sidewalk.

Axel will give me thirty, maybe forty seconds before he chases me.

Inertia will pull him down the block, thinking I darted onto a quiet side street, so immediately, I duck into the next dark space, a cobblestone parking area beside a row house.

Crouching behind a Range Rover, I’m so thankful for these big-ass, fancy cars tonight.

Holding my breath and body still, shadows cloak me. The gas lantern flickering by the hospitality door of the home I’m hiding beside barely illuminates the summer night.

With heavy steps, I hear Axel thundering right past me but I wait. Ten. Thirty. Sixty seconds before I strain my ears until I’m sure he’s not there.

From Delta’s, the best way to the famous pineapple fountain in Waterfront Park is up Meeting Street, then down Broad, then Exchange Street. The wider sidewalks of the main roads make it the fastest way.

But no.

First, a woman running in a Chanel suit like her hair is on fire in the middle of the night would draw way too much attention and ruin our game.

Second, wouldn’t Axel expect me to do the most obvious, gambling on my speed versus his?

Third, that’s no fun.

Fourth, it’s not smart.

Axel’s chasing me. And if his father is, too?

Good luck catching me, Bratva boys.

I sprint through a side courtyard and cut through an empty church parking lot. Peeking around a front gate’s brick pillar, I scope up and down a quiet, residential street with its renowned homes. It looks empty.

I suppose as I run, at any moment, Axel, his asshole father, or some rando could jump out and grab me but somehow…

It makes this even more thrilling.

Sweat moistens my skin. Desire has long since soaked my panties. My thighs are slick with both, my ribs heaving with bated breath.

But it isn’t from exertion. My body’s too trained for this.

It’s from the thrill of the hunt. The drug of the chase. The rush of being loved.

Axel bought me a ring.

“Yes” beats through my veins.

My feet pound like my heart.

Thirty minutes is more than enough time to race directly to the fountain, but Axel knew that. The extra minutes allow for extra subterfuge.

Which way would he go?

Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure he’s not already there. That somehow he didn’t double-back to trail me.

But the street yawns, eerie and empty on the sultry night with parked cars sleeping by the curb.

Bolting left, I tread over the undulating cobblestones of Church Street. It’s a running hazard from hell and a risky place to race, so of course, I take it.

For blocks, I run, only turning a couple of heads at the odd spectacle of a woman running like the goddess Nike in a Chanel suit and sneakers through Charleston after midnight.

It’s laughable.

Then it’s odd.

Then…

It’s scary.

Where is Axel ?

Based on my pace, it’s been at least twenty minutes. He should be following me by now. I should hear his familiar footfalls or his husky voice taunting, “Nice ass” from a half block behind.

Glancing over my shoulder again, the gas street lamp glows, defeated by the night veiling the road shrouded by oak trees and flanked by stately homes. It’s empty except for a white utility van, oddly parked in an area of luxury cars.

Shit, I hope that van’s for a remodeling job nearby.

No way could Axel’s father track me, anticipating I’d be here and use that white van to nab me.

God, I’ve watched Silence of the Lamb s too many times.

That’s impossible.

Then I remember what Axel warned—anticipate his father, don’t react.

How long could Ruslan Kholodov have been watching Axel King? His son. His declared heir and the next Pakhan? To what lengths would he go to reclaim his honor?

His blood?

Could he already know about me? Maybe he’s been watching Axel’s office. His home. Maybe he already knows about Delta’s and is somehow tracking me, too.

I’m not sure, but I’m fast.

Instinct makes me whip right, turning down a slender, historic alley, famous for its secluded approach to the waterfront. Its cobblestones narrow to only six feet wide, flanked on both sides by white star jasmine spilling over tall, brick walls and ornate iron gates.

It’s a charming alleyway, offering cool shadows on a humid summer’s day.

But by night?

I stop in the middle of the alley and spin around, gasping at a shadowy figure stalking my way, his heavy shoes clapping over cobblestones .

Tall, wide shoulders, dark suit, dark hair: that’s all I can ascertain about the threatening silhouette.

I whip back toward the mouth of the alley, facing the river, and there stands another silhouette. A man with a pooched belly, smoking a cigar.

What the fuck?

I’m trapped?

My pulse skyrockets. Stress attacks my nerves. I feel like a caged animal. A feeling way too familiar and dangerous for me.

Which way do I go? I don’t know, so I turn back to fight the silhouette, slamming its palm over my mouth, about to scream.

“You’re okay, Wildfire. I got you.”

The relief is instant.

I nip Axel’s hand and he laughs, yanking it away before I pull him into a relieved kiss, then turn to see the man and his cigar, leaving with a dog on a leash behind him.

“You good?” Axel rasps over my lips.

“Very good.” I shove him away, fighting. “Now, fuck you.”

He smirks. “No, I’m fucking you .”

He moves too fast, whipping me around. Pinning my back to his chest, he yanks his chain to my collar, his other hand fisting my skirt.

“Put your hands on the wall, but don’t spread your legs,” he commands. “Keep them together. Keep your ass really fucking tight for me to fuck.”

He’s sweating. So am I. His cologne and my perfume waft through the night jasmine air. The low rumble of an occasional car drives by. Pedestrians are absent. Perhaps another resident out for a nightly walk will catch us, but they won’t stop us.

Axel’s too hungry. “Such a good girl, trying to hide your naughty ass under this tight skirt.” He yanks it up, leaving it around my waist. With his lips to my ear, I hear him dragging his zipper down. “I warned you what I was going to do to you tonight, didn’t I? Are you afraid?”

“Yes,” I lie.

Sort of.

My mind still registers the primal fear of a chase. But now … my fear bleeds into desire, soaking my muscles to relax.

“You know you can fight me, but I can have you any time I want.” He reaches around, his hand diving into my panties, his fingers skimming my slick lips.

“Um, and your wet pussy sure knows it, too.” Teasing, he pulls the bullet out of my lace.

Pressing the toy to my lips, he demands, “Taste what your pussy does for me.”

I lick my tangy flavor from the warm metal.

“Hmm, such a good girl, licking her cum for me,” he praises, tugging the bows free that hold up my panties. With a rude yank, he rips them off.

“Go to hell,” I hiss.

“Hell?” Holding my panties to my mouth, he taunts, “Yes, I am going to fuck the hell out of your ass. Do you have anything to say before I shut your bratty mouth up for it?”

“Fuck you, dickhead,” I hiss, letting it slide into my command. “Go ahead. Be a man. Fuck me like you hate me.”

“Oh, Ruby.” His bearded lips tickle my ear. “I could never hate you, baby. Not when your pussy exists for my cock. Not when your ass needs my cum.”