Page 16 of Jewel of the Assassin

I turn to Roman, lifting a brow but frowning until he winks at me. “She likes you.”

A proud heat flushes me. I don’t even consider how I must look right now. If she appreciated my quip, it’s enough to cancel out my wounded pride.

Zina turns back to me, all grace and menace. “Just ring the bell in the corner, my lady. I have a host of locations we can dump a body on this island. It would be my pleasure.”

I flash a slow, sly smile and glance over at Roman. “Even if it’s myhusband’s?”

He lifts his brows, inclining his head like a smug bastard, lips twitching into an arrogant grin.

Zina doesn’t miss a beat. She turns to Roman and says something else in Russian. And then…“You better not let this one get away. She’s got teeth.” She turns back to me one last time. “I assure you, he’s much prettier breathing. But I’m certain you’ll have him on his back in no time, my sweet.”

Roman smirks. “She can try.”

I lift my chin, half-tempted to stick out my tongue. “I don’t try,moya korol. I do.”

His laughter rings low and rich, chest lifting beneath his tailored shirt, silver-gold hair glinting as if he belongs in a painting. He looks too good for a man with chains on his wife.

“Until you ring…” Zina finishes and exits, Shalun still perched like a sentinel.

Roman moves toward me, slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world—and all of it belongs tohim.

I feel my body respond. It’s infuriating. My breath quickens, my skin tingles. And the memory of his mouth on me flares in my core.

“You going to let me go now?” I arch a brow.

“Not yet,” he says, smooth as silk. “My wife’s health and well-being come first. In my dauntless effort to ensure you don’t exert yourself, I shall feed you myself.”

My eyes roll so hard, I swear I see another dimension. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leans down, brushing a thumb beneath my lower lip. “No. I’m dominant.”

“Have you always been this—” I pause, eyes narrowing, trying not to melt. “—like this?”

He smiles wickedly. “Yes. And you don’t want a passive man.”

“And I’m supposed to trust that you understand my needs, my wants?”

His eyes burn into mine. “Without equivocation, Moya Koroleva. I am the master of this house. I am lord, king, and Czar. You are my lady, my queen, and Czarina. I can think of no higher calling than for a king to put his queen’s safety, her welfare, and happiness—her desires—above all other duties. In my case, it is not merely duty. It is anhonorto look upon you, to care for you, to meet your needs—including the ones you do not even know. And in ways you can’t even imagine.”

He leans in, voice dark velvet. “Now. Be a good girl and let me feed you, Valentina.”

I would slap him—if not for the cuffs.

Instead, I swallow the moan as he presents the plate like an offering. Black sturgeon caviar glistens like obsidian pearls atop warm, buttered blini. Luxurious sour cream melts at the edges. Sirniki, soft and golden, rest beneath a drizzle of honey that catches the light like liquid sunlight. A porcelain cup of kopi luwak steams gently. It smells like money and sin.

I request the tea first, and Roman obliges. He is criminally good at this, seeming to know just how to move, how much to give me.

After the tea, he feeds me a bite. My lips close around the blini, the tang and butter exploding on my tongue. I chew, swallow, and hiss when his fingers brush a sensitive spot at the inside of mythigh.

The bastard grins.

He feeds me more. Each time, he trails his knuckles across sensitive places. Light touches, teasing—just enough to remind me that he’s in control of my body, my appetite, myeverything.

And the worst part?

I eat. Every damn bite. I moan sometimes. And sigh, hating myself a little.

Because something in me knowsthat all of this iswrong.I should resist him. Fight. Claw. Tear the room apart.