Beautiful Chains (Molotov Betrothal #2) Read Online Anna Zaires

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: Molotov Betrothal Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
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As much as I want to own her completely, I want her healthy and well even more.

“I’m fine,” she says, lifting her chin in that stubborn way of hers. “I want the wedding to happen now.”

I tilt my head, studying her. “Do you really?”

Her eyes flash a brighter shade of green. “Well, obviously not. I want to marry you about as much as I want to go swimming with a shiver of sharks. But if I have to, then I’d rather get it over with.”

I clench my teeth and remind myself that she’s unwell. That I can’t tear this pretty dress off her and show her what a pretty little liar she is, pretending not to want me or this marriage. Deep down, she knows she belongs to me, but still, she insists on fighting me, resisting me.

It takes everything I have to smooth out my features and say in a cool, unaffected tone, “In that case, you will eat and drink. Then, if I determine that you’re well enough, we’ll proceed with the wedding.”

Rising to my feet, I leave the cabin.

Chapter 6

Alina

I exhale, dropping my head back against the pillows as the cabin door closes behind Alexei. The truth is that I still feel a little shaky, my pulse racing too fast. Then again, that last bit could just be due to his proximity and not my Victorian-style fainting spell.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I don’t know what caused me to pass out, but the orange juice did make me feel better, so maybe Alexei is right. Maybe I do need some food and water.

And not to think about my parents and how we’re heading in the same direction.

I shut the door on that thought as soon as it rears its ugly head, but it’s too late. My heartbeat speeds up further, and my lungs constrict with a fresh wave of panic.

Fuck. Maybe it wasn’t the lack of food.

I focus on taking small, even breaths and thinking about nothing at all. When that doesn’t work, I bring up images of Slava and how happy he is with Nikolai and Chloe. I remind myself that my marriage to Alexei ensures his continued happiness and safety, and the panic gradually recedes, leaving a grim resolve in its wake.

I will marry Alexei.

Today.

As soon as possible.

Then and only then will I worry about all the rest.

The cabin door opens, and Alexei enters with a tray Vika must’ve prepared for him. The food on it is simple: a buttered toast with a side of jelly, another glass of orange juice, and two peeled hard-boiled eggs.

“You will eat all of this,” Alexei says, his expression implacable as he places the tray over my lap and sits on the edge of the bed. “I want to see you devour every crumb, understand?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, master. I hear and I obey, master.”

The corners of Alexei’s mouth twitch. “Uh-huh.” He picks up the toast and spoons the jelly onto one corner of it. “Open up.”

Obediently, I bite into the sweet, crunchy bread. Instantly, my mouth waters for more. I don’t normally eat something so sugary, but it’s really hitting the spot right now.

“Good girl,” Alexei murmurs, watching me intently as I swallow.

Flushing, I reach over to take the toast from him, but he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he holds it out of my reach and spoons more jelly onto another corner before bringing it to my mouth. His eyes gleam darkly as he waits to see what I will do, and I shock myself by biting into the toast as he holds it, like a pet getting hand-fed by its owner.

“That’s right. Such a good girl,” he says softly, and my cheeks burn hotter as he repeats the action, feeding me more toast topped with jelly.

I should protest. I should grab the bread from him and eat it like the able-bodied adult that I am. But I don’t. Something about this—the way he’s watching me, how he praises me for each bite—soothes the panic inside me, quieting the voices of doom in my mind. I eat the entire toast from his hand, and when I take the last bite, my lips brush against his fingers, and it feels… sensual. Prickles of awareness dance over my skin, and his eyes grow hooded as he picks up an egg and brings it to my mouth.

This is a dangerous game we’re playing, I know, but I can’t bring myself to stop. I hold his gaze as I bite into the offering, no longer tasting anything as heated tension fills the air between us. His eyes grow darker, his breathing faster, and my body responds with a surge of need, my nipples peaking inside the tight bodice of my dress, my inner muscles clenching on an empty ache. Once more, there isn’t enough oxygen, but the lightheadedness I’m experiencing is not the fainting kind. Instead, I feel as if I’m caught in a vivid dream, an alternate reality where it’s just the two of us and nothing else matters.


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