Her Russian Beast: 50 Loving States, New Mexico Read Online Free PDF Page B

and the bathroom, and made herself a decent enough ice pack. Then, pressing it to her face, she climbed into the huge bed and let herself sink into it with a sigh. Only to find she couldn’t sleep.
    Funny that unlike her reluctant host, she wasn’t remotely bothered that he’d so ruthlessly shot Cyrus and his goons. But the fact that he wasn’t sleeping beside her, making her feel the things he’d made her feel last night when he’d taken her again and again like he couldn’t get enough…that bothered her.
    And though this was the most comfortable bed she’d lain in like, ever, it took her a long while to fall asleep.

    W hich was why she was shocked to wake up to the sight of The Russian Beast. But not so beast-like anymore. He was clean-shaven now, and had replaced last night’s black track suit with a pair of gray wool trousers and a black sweater, which made his eyes appear even darker. And instead of a knot, his long hair fell in a silken, jet-black waterfall past his shoulders.
    “Hi,” she said, sitting up on her forearm. She could only wonder what she looked liked. Dressed in his bulky t-shirt, likely black eye, wild curls in a frizzy tumble on top of her head—since she hadn’t tied it up last night.
    “What’s up?” she asked, trying not to feel self-conscious.
    “I come back to room last night. No Sascha. I look for him on balcony, in other bathroom, and then I find him in here. My guard dog curled up beside your bed.”
    Oh, so Sascha was a boy. She hadn’t bothered to check last night.
    “Sorry,” she said with a chagrined smile. “I kind of have a way with animals—especially if they’re male. My mom says my grandma on my father’s side was a siren.”
    He stared at her for a long black-eyed second and then said, “Or maybe he recognizes kin. He is dog. You live like dog. He comes in here with you.”
    She tilted her head. Okay, this guy… he had a way of insulting her so brazenly, it was hard for her to actually feel insulted. Just bewildered. “So you came in here to compare me to your dog?”
    Another dark look, and despite the much more sophisticated clothes, he put her in mind of a frustrated beast. Nostrils flaring in and out as he glared at her.
    “You are quarter siren, but you live like dog in that basement.” He sat forward, thick forearms settling on his thighs. “Tell me, do you know about men like Cyrus? What they do to siren girls like you?”
    She shook her head with the feeling she didn’t really want to know the answer to that question. As it turned out she was right.
    “They give you drugs,” he informed her. “Then they give you to somebody who breaks girls like you as job. Rape you over and over and keep you on drugs until you are addicted and will do whatever they say for next hit. What did you think happened to girls who came before you?”
    “They quit because of the obviously shitty working conditions?” she answered, truthfully.
    “No, they do not quit,” he answered, tone scathing as acid. “They were broken . Cyrus lets men use them after fighting is done. That way all money comes back to him, even if house loses on fights. He lets men use them until they are too old or too far gone. Then he gets new girl. You were new girl.”
    She expelled a breath, strangely more upset for the women who’d come before her than herself. “Those poor girls. Is there any way to help them?” she asked him.
    He flinched. Almost like her question had taken him by complete surprise. “No, there is no way to help them.”
    “Oh,” her shoulders sank. More souls to add to the list of people she couldn’t help.
    The memory of Trevor’s broken body lying in the road came back to her in a flash then. Along with the image of her sobbing. Begging him and anybody else who would listen not to go, to stay here with her, not to die—
    She broke out of the memory, clinging to her numbness like a lifeline.
    “Okay, well, thank you for the advice,” she said to the