A Lock Of Death by Beena Khan

5

Dimitri spun around as Nine flung herself over the railing.

His eyes narrowed, and he lunged with a quick jump, chasing right after her in death, muttering Russian curse words. His body went over the railing, and he grabbed her golden little dress, but the fabric almost ripped from his grasp.

Quickly, he grabbed for her small hand with his other arm. With most of his body hanging, he hooked his feet underneath the space of the railing, and they stilled in the air as they dangled. The rain made it tougher for him to grip her hand firmly. Their hands were too slippery, and the pouring water from the sky didn’t help.

Uneasiness settled into his soul that he might drop her hand. It flickered in and out. An unfamiliar feeling that didn’t sit right in his body. His breaths came out rapid as the blood in him moved from his limbs and rushed to his mind.

Nine’s head shot up in the blaring rain and she grinned, flashing a pearly smile through her full, soft-looking lips.

She fucking grinned at him like a deranged maniac.

Rainwater hit her open mouth before she choked and spat out the water. Warm honey hues and deep caramel stared back at him. Her hazel eyes were crazed, and they sparkled in the dark night. They could pass for the brown sun with specks of gold or the soft moss that clothed an oak tree. It was the first thing he’d noticed when he’d seen her photograph, the same thing he’d noticed when he met her yesterday for the first time.

Alexander had mentioned she was a special case, but he should have also mentioned she was total a nut case too.

He hadn’t prepared for this.

Licking his lips, he reached his other hand and clung to her arm in case he dropped her. She was so different from that quiet girl he’d seen yesterday. The one who seemed afraid and timid. Now, someone else greeted him. She was willing to jump over the railing, and now, she was ecstatic about it.

“Are you planning on dying with me?” she asked in her sweet, melodic voice.

That voice didn’t sit right with someone as deranged as her.

Neither did her soft brown locks.

He blinked and held in a deep sigh that wanted to explode out of his chest.

“My darling husband probably doesn’t believe in till death do us apart, but maybe you do?”

She stopped smiling, and her hopeful eyes beamed at him.

He wanted her to stop staring at him like that.

It did nothing for his soul, but it did do something for his cock. He was hanging for dear life with a girl hanging on to him, and he hardened.

Fuck. He looked away from her eyes, but then his gaze fell on her cleavage. He’d seen her nude yesterday too, and he was hard then too, but it was… different now. He’d seen many pretty girls before. They evoked a physical reaction in him but that’s it.

Maybe it was the vulnerability she showed or the way she willed to sacrifice herself. She looked different with the splash of rain on her skin. It clung to her every inch of her, outlining her body. Shaking his head silently, he narrowed his eyes and focused on pulling her up while putting himself down.

“Grab my arm with your other hand,” he ordered.

She did no such thing.

His jaw ticked. “I don’t have time for your games right now. Grab the fuck onto my arm.”

She only shook her head wildly, her braid shaking behind her. “No,” she replied in defiance.

A fucking idiot.

He itched to smack her bottom senseless with the palm of his hand. With a heavy sigh, he pulled her closer. She was lightweight, but the rainwater clung to her dress, adding extra pounds to her. Only a couple of inches remained between them.

He stared down at her.

She stared up at him.

Dropping his grip from her arm while still clutching her hand with the other, his arm reached down and wrapped around her soft waist. He needed to glance over his shoulder, to look at the railing, but he didn’t trust this crazy maniac at all.

Any moment, and she would take the chance to try to hurt herself again when she caught him off guard. They would both die then. With his arm wrapped around her waist, he let go of her hand and reached behind him for the balcony. Aiming blindly while keeping an eye on her, his hand hit hard metal.

Yes. Satisfaction sunk into his skin.

Grabbing a hold of it, he pulled himself up and dragged her with him. She still tried to squirm in his arm like an annoying little dikaya koshka. Wildcat. He only pressed her tighter, refusing to let her fall and die. He paused when her mouth brushed against the wet skin on his neck.

Dimitri sucked in a sharp breath when her razor-sharp teeth clamped down on his skin. Dammit. He hissed under his breath when her biting intensified.

Goddamn. This is what he got for trying to help this female.

Biting on his neck was a sore spot for him.

Desperation poured out of her like she wanted him to drop her… or had she taken a risk trying to harm him because she might not get the chance again? Her mouth kept moving on his skin, drawing blood. Her thick, wet locks rubbed against his cheeks. He almost wanted to drop her. That would teach her a lesson. She could’ve at least waited to attack and bite him when they landed safely on their fucking feet.

His hands were too tied up, one gripped her waist, and the other clung to the railing. He shook his head silently, and his mind grew fuzzier with the blood filling it up. He’d been hanging upside for too long.

With a grunt, he pulled himself up over the railing even though she continued relentlessly nibbling on him like a rat.

Once his feet landed on the balcony floor, he gripped her waist and sat her on the railing.

Her hair still nuzzled his neck, and she continued leaving bite marks like a ravenous creature of the night.

Fucking vampire.

His neck had never been bruised in his entire life before especially not at the hands of a little spiteful female.

Her hands dug deeper into his skin, clawing his shoulders and neck. He snarled, and reaching up a hand, he gripped her jaw and pulled her back.

Startled, she stopped and looked into his eyes. Her pink parted cupid lips had stains of red blood on them, and he had a thought to lick the blood off her mouth. His blood.

The marks on his neck still stung, and the pouring rain hitting that spot didn’t help at all. “You made me bleed,” he confirmed the accusation, still gripping her jaw, and holding the side of his neck with his other hand.

Her lower lip turned up in a frown and her fiery eyes challenged him. “You made my neck bleed first,” she shot back.

He paused and met her eyes before glancing down at the side of her neck, at the tracker, he’d implanted.

“Doesn’t feel good, huh?” Nine taunted with a sneer.

Little Vixen.

So, that’s why she had bitten him?

Dimitri had assumed it was because she was trying to die again. His eyes narrowed and without giving it a second thought, his same hand that gripped her jaw pushed her back until she fell over the balcony all over again.

A surprised yelp left through her voice before he gripped the collar of her drenched dress and brought her back to him, his gaze locked onto her. Her widened doe-like eyes stared back at him in disbelief, little whimpers leaving her throat.

Their eyes locked together, refusing to look away from each other. The atmosphere around them was subtly electric and alive. The ice-cold rainwater sank into his skin. His skin carried the heat of his blood, and his inner fire scorched so strong.

His eyes landed on the liquid forming a pattern on her skin, the rain pouring down her face, touching her parted lips before trailing down her chin.

His soul stirred as the air thrilled with the quenching storm. The cold droplets traced shapes onto her skin—in ways that his fingers never could—seeping down into pores before being absorbed. He glanced down at the floor where deep puddles splashed between his feet as her body swayed.

Moving his eyes up, his gaze fell on her lips. Each drop sat on her lips, on her skin like a puddle.

Goosebumps pebbled her flesh. The moonlight spilled across her skin more times than he'd like to count.

With his other hand, he pulled the tendrils sticking to her skin back before he leaned down and pressed his mouth against her neck. He never once let go of her collar in case she tried to pull away. Her body tensed, but she didn’t fight him off yet.

Maybe she was surprised. He licked the rainwater off her soft skin. He grazed the cut, and a throaty whimper left her mouth, mingling with her melodic voice.

Her soft voice though…

She looked like an angel with her long brownish locks with golden highlights and big, hazel eyes, but today, he’d seen a fire in her that hadn’t been there before yesterday.

It only hardened him, and his cock lengthened and expanded in his pants, rubbing against the fabric.

Dropping his hold on her collar, he gripped the back of her small waist, pulling her closer. She squirmed when his teeth brushed sharply against her, invading that same place where he’d sliced her.

It didn’t help at all that her legs dangled on the opposite of him or that her dress was pulled over her thighs, and his sex brushed against hers through their clothes. Or the way her soft full tits pressed against his. The same ones he’d seen yesterday.

Locking her to him so she didn’t move at all, he sunk his teeth into that sore spot of hers until he tasted her metallic blood on his lips. The scarlet liquid gushed into his head, and ecstasy filled his mind. He shouldn’t be liking this, but he did because let’s face it, he was an asshole.

She yelped against him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging through the wet cotton fabric.

“That hurts,” Nine protested. She moved against him, but his strength was no match for her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “Blue… please,” she whispered in a rough voice.

Blue? Her begging and her writhing in his arms only egged him on. He let out a soft grunt. Furrowing his eyebrows, he found what he was looking for, and his sharp teeth clenched on it before extracting it out and lifting his head at her.

Her red-rimmed blazing eyes met his. An ocean of emotions laid in her eyes, ones he could only recognize but never feel.

Nine stopped shaking and the middle of her eyebrows creased when she took in his bloody mouth… and the black tracker between his teeth.

He lifted her by the waist and plopped her feet against the wet floor. The rain never lessened. He glanced at his own wrinkly hands. They’d been out here far too long.

Grabbing the tracker with his hand, his eyes fell on the green light still turned on.

Perfect.

He pocketed it, and he licked his lips, cleaning her blood off his mouth, tasting her all over again. The blood had a bitter tang to it, but it sent a rush to his mind.

Nine’s startled eyes followed that little movement before her head jerked up to meet his.

He turned around but didn’t move yet in case she had the brilliant idea to jump over the balcony again. Sighing, he lifted his hands to wipe the rainwater from his eyes.

Her small feet stayed still, and he glanced over his shoulders. It would be easy to just grab her hand and drag her back into the room, but she might be afraid again… He recognized fear in others, even if he couldn’t feel it himself. He’d seen it too many times on the people he’d killed already.

With her skin flushed, her eyes didn’t look pretty anymore. The red overtook the caramel in them.

Running his tongue over his teeth, he held out a hand for her with the rain still pouring down on them.

He’d never offered his hand to a female, but maybe it was more appropriate. It sounded all too clinical in his head, but they were softer, and they tended to appreciate these gestures more.

Nine’s eyes dropped to his hand before her surprised gaze met his. She tilted her head and bit down on her lip. Something he’d noticed she did a lot when she pondered.

Pressing her lips together and with hesitation in her limbs, she entwined her small hand with his much larger one. Her hand was soft. Too soft. Different from his own. She was kind of tiny, and he could crush her easily with a snap.

Facing forward, he headed into the penthouse again, and Nine followed behind him in timid footsteps. Her bare feet splashed with the rain puddles. Once, she was inside, he turned around and moved back to close the balcony doors, but a soft hand only pulled him back.

Pausing, he glanced back at Nine who still latched onto his hand. Her whiskey on ice like eyes met his again, but she didn’t let go. He took a step forward to the balcony, and she moved one step forward with him.

Was she not planning on letting go?

Now, he didn’t know what to do besides snatching his hand back. He’d never held someone’s hand.

Still eyeing her, he used his free hand to close a door. A breeze hit him, and a shudder ran through his body at the chilly air hitting his drenched clothes and skin. Finally locking the doors, he turned around to face Nine.

Something passed between them as they stared relentlessly at each other, not speaking a single word.

Blood still trickled from her wound.

Had he bitten too hard?

What was too hard, anyway?

Stumped, he came up clueless.

His heartbeats came in a slow and steady rhythm. He wanted to break the silence, but he didn’t want to let go of her hand either. He’d never felt the female hand on his own before. He never held the hands of the assignments, never bothered to look at them, much less speak to them. He liked how his hand covered hers, how her little fingers were entwined with his, how her tanned skin contrasted with his fair skin.

He noticed everything… even her.

Breaking off the trance, he cleared his throat and spoke. “The tracker needs to stay in this penthouse until next week.”

And with that, her gaze broke off, and she dropped his hand. The warmth of her hand left his skin cold leaving something missing behind. He couldn’t recognize that feeling.

Brushing off his thoughts, he continued, “It has to match your location. It’s still on right now, but when we leave for Mexico, we need to take it with us, otherwise, he will know.”

Nine chewed on the inside of her cheek before she nodded. After a moment, she replied, “Why did you take it out?”

Her voice was smooth as honey, and he wished she would stop talking. The more she talked, the more he had to talk, and he hated talking.

“Well…” his voice rumbled. “I wouldn’t want to be tracked. Would you?”

She fell silent, but he already knew she’d hated the tracker.

After a moment, she countered, “You put it in though.”

“He paid for you,” he answered the obvious.

Paid only. He doesn’t own you, he finished silently.

Why did that thought enter his mind?

She made a face. He studied her little facial expressions. Feminine expressions were fascinating, and whenever he tried to mimic them, they didn’t sit right on his face.

Dimitri finished, “But, you’re with me right now, we don’t put trackers in our girls, and until then, he’s not coming near you. Your safety won’t be compromised with me.”

Nine’s eyes brightened and filled with hope.

She wiped her little pink nose with the back of her hand.

“Thank you.”

His body went rigid, and his shoulders tensed at those two little words coming out of her mouth. He’d never been thanked before by a female. He’d lost track of the countless times when they’d cussed at him. Most of the time, they hated his guts and his personality. Now this female… she was interesting.

A small smile lifted her face.

That smile almost caught him off guard. He stilled, remembering her earlier trick.

Is she playing with...

His train of thought trailed off as he looked at her brightened eyes. The red in them disappeared. She looked at him for a couple of more seconds before she reached for the hem of her dress, pulled it over her head, and dropped it on the floor. His shoulders tensed, and his gaze narrowed.

What on earth was she up to now?

Blood ran to his groin as she stood before him in her drenched red colored bra and panties. The cotton thin fabric clung modestly to her skin, but even it couldn’t protect her wet nipples from his eyes. He could see the shadows on her skin. His eyes took in the view again, the same one he hadn’t looked at yesterday until Boris had approached her.

His eyes traveled from her delicate collarbones to her round, full tits. They grew larger under his gaze, and everywhere his eyes touched, a flush carried. She stood before him without any shame like she knew how she looked.

Confident and ballsy as hell.

How many men had seen her naked?

Blood churned inside his body.

A possessive need filled his soul to burn every fucker that laid their filthy hands on her. He cocked his head.

Alexander had revealed nothing about her besides her condition. Yesterday was the first time he’d seen her, and that meeting still replayed on his mind like a song on the radio.

Last night, he’d returned home and done some digging into her, but he came up empty.

Nine. He didn’t know her real name.

He’d asked his brother, but Alexander didn’t know either.

Alexander had mentioned she’d never revealed it and he never pushed her for it.

It was like she was a damn ghost.

The only thing he knew was that she was a club whore once.

No wonder she’d tried to touch him. It was smart though, devious even and it almost made him smile.

Eyeing her, he took in her small and slender form. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest now, but it didn’t take away from her beauty. No wonder Boris had married her. She had legs that he didn’t mind being wrapped around his waist.

Dimitri raised a subtle eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.

She didn’t reply and only walked away from him, toward the table. His gaze fell on her bubble butt that still had water droplets clinging to it. Her hair stained the carpet with water with each footstep. When she reached the table, she gripped the edges of it with her back facing him. She slightly bent over it.

That position looked familiar…

Nine glanced over her shoulder.

“You still have to punish me, remember?”

He blinked twice, wondering if he’d misheard her.

Well, that didn’t help his hard-on.

He hadn’t expected this bold move…

Her shoulders sagged but she still met his eyes.

“I know it’s still coming but I want it to be my choice,” she continued. “You said I tricked you,” she grimaced, “And I tried to kill myself, then I bit you.” Her eyes fell on his neck that had stopped bleeding now. “Well… I wasn’t really trying to kill myself,” she tried explaining and her eyebrows furrowed. “It was more of an impulsive attempt to escape. My darlinghusband is probably still waiting for the picture.”

Dimitri breathed hard through his nose and moved toward her. Her eyes faced the wall again. He trailed every inch of her back view. As he neared her, he caught a few freckles on her skin, and he wanted to reach out and trace them.

He stopped right behind her, putting just a small distance between them so she wouldn’t feel his bulge through his pants.

She bowed her small head and gripped the edge of the table with her hands tightly. Her knuckles turned white.

Her shoulders sagged before her alluring voice asked quietly, “How many times will you do it?”

Tilting his head, he bore holes into the back of the little female creature. This submissive side of her was quite different than what he’d witnessed throughout the night.

When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Blue?”

Why does she keep calling me Blue?

And why am I not telling her to stop?

“I think three is okay, right?” Nine spoke again.

It sounded like a bargain.

“Just how red is it supposed to be?”

If he knew how to laugh, he would have, but instead, his upper lip twitched as he studied her.

She grew interesting with every little action.

It wasn’t her beauty. It was her.

“I’ve done this before,” she admitted. His eyebrows shot up. “But I still want to be able to sit on a chair the next day.” When he didn’t reply, she sighed. “Blue?”

Blue. That little nickname made his pulse race.

He inched closer until his chest pressed against her back. Her body tensed, and she stopped moving. Her body grew stiffer, and he noticed the subtle changes in her, like the tremble in her shoulders. Would she cry again?

He could count almost every single droplet clinging to her back. The straps of her bra did nothing to hide her from his view. Dropping his gaze, his eyes fell on her round ass cheek. Reaching out, he grazed a rough hand over it.

A little noise left Nine’s lips. He was a monster, but he liked how she was soft all over. His fingers tingled and itched to make her red everywhere. Shaking off his thoughts, he focused on the task. The first thing he would do when he reached home was to take a shower in cold water. His fingers dug deeper into her skin—the fat of her flesh still moist—until he firmly pressed his hand against it, imprinting himself on her.

She whimpered and shifted against him. His eyes lifted, and he tilted his head as he stared at the deep wound on the side of her neck. It stopped bleeding, but it might leave a nasty scar.

She had one underneath her tit too.

How did she get that?

Did someone hurt her?

Questions filled his mind before he focused on her ass again.

He pulled his hand back as he stared at the mark he’d left behind. A large handprint. He pressed his palm on her surrounding flesh around in a circle, watching as it reddened under his touch. The borders of it had to look natural.

Pleased, he stepped back and pulled out his phone.

It had droplets clinging to it, but it still worked.

Turning it on, he stepped back and took a picture of her before sending it off to Boris.

“I’m done,” Dimitri spoke, stepping a few feet away from her. He had stayed far too long.

Nine’s shoulders relaxed, but then the same tension filled her shoulders again. She glanced behind to look at him, meeting his blue eyes before glancing down, trying to see the marks on her skin, but she couldn’t without snapping her neck.

“Wait!” she protested, her eyes lifting again, meeting him. “You’re not going to….” her voice trailed off.

He froze, his limbs glued to the floor. Had she wanted it?

Puzzled, his eyes looked up. That couldn’t be right.

Her eyebrows creased, and her lip turned curled in a frown. Her questioning gaze met his. She still hadn’t moved at all from that position, and it wasn’t helping that his hand still itched to smack her bottom. He’d never left a task incomplete before.

“Your ass is red,” he commented, “it’s good enough.”

She turned around fully, and her lips parted in disbelief like she didn’t understand.

“The next time you want to kill yourself,” he murmured under his breath, his stoic face returning, “go ahead, but you won’t do it on my watch. Ever.”

Her long throat bobbed, and she clasped her hands in front of her like her scolded toddler. A pout formed on her lips, and she sulked, but she remained quiet for once.

“Dikaya koshka, Wildcat, if you ever play with me again, I won’t hold back next time, and I will slap your little ass until you bleed red,” he continued, looking her dead in the eye. “Your name is Nine, and you may have nine lives, but you fell to your death twice already. Consider this a warning.”

He never gave warnings though, and he didn’t know why he’d given her one.

“And if you ever try to bite me again, the next time, it’ll be your jugular out of your throat.”

That was a promise.

He left an open-mouthed Nine behind.

Before leaving, he hid the tracker in a secure location in the penthouse and ordered Madame Gospel to place a lock on the balcony doors. He didn’t need Nine jumping to her death again.