Czar: Impossible Series, #8

By Julia Sykes

After a lifetime of being sheltered, I decided to study abroad in St. Petersburg to push myself out of my comfort zone. Dimitri definitely fits the bill. He's gorgeous, mysterious, and everything I never knew I wanted.

I'm willing to give him my innocence, but he demands more. When it's time for me to return to America, he won't let me go. My lover becomes my captor.
 
He wants all of me, even if that means pushing me to my breaking point. He won't stop until he owns my body and soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Julia Sykes
• Release date: Jun 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201777371

Julia Sykes

Julia Sykes is a USA Today bestselling author of edgy, emotional romance. When she's not writing, she's usually reading. Other than reading, her obsessions include iced coffee, unicorns, charcuterie, aged Manchego cheese (or any cheese, really), fancy dresses, and Roman empresses. An American expat, Julia now lives in her adopted, beloved home of York, England. Most days, you can find her wandering the cobbled streets and daydreaming about her next novel. Find out more about Julia's current and future projects at julia-sykes.com.

Book preview

1

Alicia

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June 2009

Despite the nearly oppressive heat of the club, goose bumps suddenly pebbled my skin. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but the more primal part of my brain recognized the cause: I was being watched.

I searched the darker corners of the room for the source of my discomfort. When my eyes locked with his for the first time, my awkward dancing faltered. His full lips curled up at the corners in a mocking smirk. The expression sharpened his defined masculine features to something a touch cruel. The gorgeous man was laughing at me.

Embarrassed heat flooded my system, turning my pale skin an unfortunate shade of red. I had been trying to imitate Christine’s seductive body roll, and I obviously made for a comical sight.

He held me in his dark stare, and the air seemed to become denser, weighing down on me and keeping me immobile. I became very aware of the shadow of my cleavage revealed by my roommate’s skimpy top. I never should have let Christine talk me into wearing the thing. I wasn’t used to male attention, and I decided in that moment that I most certainly didn’t like it. Especially not when the male studying me seemed to find me amusing rather than alluring.

I resisted the urge to tug up the top in a self-conscious effort to cover myself. This whole night had been a mistake. I didn’t belong here, bumping against the sweat-slicked bodies of intoxicated club-goers. This wasn’t me. A point that was driven home all too harshly by the man’s dancing black eyes.

Somehow, I managed to gasp in a breath of musky air and tear my gaze from his. With an irritated jerk of my limbs, I turned my body away from him and fled from the dance floor. The press of people that closed behind me did little to ease the sensation of his eyes on me, even though I knew they blocked me from his view.

Alicia! Wait up! Christine shouted to be heard over the pulsing music. More than a few men’s hands grazed her waist and hips as she struggled through the writhing bodies to keep up with my hasty retreat. She didn’t seem to mind their touches.

When she caught up to me, she leaned an elbow on the bar, catching her breath. She pushed sweat-dampened brown hair away from her bottle green eyes so she could study me.

What’s up? Did some creep grab your ass or something? Her eyes narrowed. "Point me at him. That’s so not cool."

My friend was quick to anger when tipsy, and now her ire was up, her protective side kicking in.

I placed a hand on her forearm, calling her attention to me before she stormed back onto the dance floor to search for the nonexistent perpetrator.

No, Christine. That’s not a good idea. We had only been in St. Petersburg for a few days. We barely knew the language, and we most definitely weren’t familiar with the culture. I had no idea how people would react if a couple of drunk Americans started harassing them.

Well, one of us was halfway to being drunk. As usual, I was stone sober.

Christine didn’t relent. Men think they can get away with touching women without their permission. I don’t care if we’re in Russia or a dive bar in South Carolina. It’s not okay.

I didn’t point out that she didn’t get fired up when she was the one being groped.

No one grabbed my ass, I assured her. I’m just not as good at dancing as you are. This place really isn’t my scene.

She rolled her eyes. What is your scene? And don’t you dare say Youth Life or some other church group. Come on, Alicia. The whole reason we’re in St. Petersburg is to have an adventure. Broaden our horizons.

This is a bit broader than I expected, I countered. The church group comment stung a bit.

That’s a good thing, she said firmly. Now, let’s have a shot and get back out on the floor. You’re perfectly fine at dancing. You just need to loosen up a little and get those hips swaying.

You know I don’t really drink. Annoyance was setting in. I didn’t appreciate being bullied. A glass of wine or two at dinner was fine, but getting hammered at a nightclub wasn’t something I did. I don’t like having my judgment impaired, especially since we’re in unfamiliar territory.

She shot me a playful smile. You could do with some poor decision-making. And don’t worry about where we are. I’ve got your back. We’re perfectly safe here. She propped up on the bar, pressing her cleavage together while she batted her lashes at the bartender. I’m getting you a shot, she informed me.

I shook my head. You can get it, but I’m not taking it. You know I don’t like shots.

"What do you like, myshka?"

The deep, heavily accented voice was so close I could practically feel it rumble across my skin. I gasped and whirled. My ankle turned in Christine’s super-high heels, and I wobbled.

Strong, warm hands closed around my upper arms, steadying me. A little thrill shot through my belly. It didn’t quite feel like fear; it was something darker I didn’t recognize.

I found myself staring up into those intense black eyes. This close, I could see that his amused smirk awoke an answering twinkle in their inky depths. It put me on edge, but I couldn’t seem to look away.

His thumbs stroked up and down my arms, and my goose bumps returned. I barely suppressed a shiver.

His smirk widened to a grin, and his almost painfully perfect smile knocked the air from my chest.

Can I get you a drink? He said the words slowly. His accent was clearly Russian, but I got the feeling he was enunciating for my benefit rather than due to difficulty with the English language.

I must seem like an idiot. How long had I been staring? I blushed again, hating how my skin so easily betrayed my embarrassment. It only made things that much worse.

Say something!

Um, yeah, I heard myself answer faintly. Sure.

So what do you like? He asked again, his lips tipping up at one corner. I got the feeling he meant more than just what drink I wanted. He was flirting, and I had no idea how to respond. I didn’t have much experience in this area, and I certainly had none when it came to flirting with a man who was so overwhelmingly gorgeous.

She’ll have a vodka-orange, Christine butted in, saving me from my mute stupidity.

His eyes didn’t leave mine to find my friend. His hands were still on me, burning my skin. But the scorching heat wasn’t at all painful. It was discomfiting in a decidedly interesting way. I felt off-balance, but something deep within me was enjoying the sensation. Distantly, I knew I should be alarmed that a stranger was touching me, but the instinct to pull away was utterly absent.

Is that what you want? He asked, his voice low and somehow rougher than it had been.

What? It took my frazzled brain a second to catch up. Oh, the vodka and orange juice.

Yes? It came out as a questioning squeak.

He chuckled, an arrogant sound that made something clench in my belly. It wasn’t anger.

I sucked in a breath when he released me from his hold and his smoky stare. His eyes found the bartender’s, and a small jerk of his chin brought the man running. I noticed the frowns of the other patrons as he skipped over them to serve my mysterious admirer. Only, when they turned to scowl at him, they quickly looked away as soon as they saw his face. It occurred to me that he must be someone important.

Confusion warred with feminine gratification that he had decided to approach me of all people. I didn’t quite understand it, but, studying his handsome profile, I decided not to question it. Maybe Christine was right. It was time for me to live a little.

He shot me a half-smile and ran a hand through his chocolate brown hair. The way the silky strands fell through his fingers to softly frame his face accentuated the sharpness of his cheekbones. It was the gesture of a man who knew just how attractive he was. His obvious vanity should have grated on me, but I couldn’t help finding his confidence sexy.

Moments later, he pressed the orange drink into my hand. His fingers deliberately slid along the length of mine as he pulled away. This time, I did shiver. I had never felt this kind of instant attraction to any man. I hadn’t thought it was even possible. Maybe it was the heavily sexual atmosphere of the club or maybe it was the burgeoning sense of adventure, but my body was practically humming in the most deliciously foreign way.

I didn’t smoke, drink, or have sex. I was the good girl.

But now I found myself surrounded by cigarette smoke, accepting an alcoholic beverage from a man who surpassed my most private fantasies.

I’m Dimitri, he said in that sexy rumble. What’s your name?

I took a small breath to make sure my voice wouldn’t waver when I answered.

Alicia, I managed to say steadily, offering my hand to shake.

His crooked smile returned, as though mocking me for making the formal gesture. He took my hand in his. He held on for a few seconds too long, brushing his thumb across my palm and giving a little squeeze before finally releasing me.

Just like that, he had knocked me off-balance again. The amusement that seemed to pulse off him told me that was exactly what he wanted. I might not be experienced in flirting, but I was fairly certain this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Wasn’t he supposed to charm me? Instead, he was toying with me.

Frustration nipped at me, but the lingering heat of his hand on my flesh sapped my strength so I couldn’t move away. Or maybe it was his dark eyes that held me in his thrall. They were bottomless black pools. A woman could drown in them if she wasn’t careful.

I’m Christine.

I nearly jolted at the sound of my friend’s voice. I had almost forgotten she was there.

Dimitri took her hand, but their contact was brief. I was faintly surprised that his gaze didn’t linger on her. Where I was shy and unsure of myself, she was confident and brassy. Her saucy smile and the way she subtly thrust out her breasts spoke of a confidence that made most men salivate over her.

He barely seemed to notice her. Despite his cockiness, my sense of feminine satisfaction returned, and I practically glowed at his attention when his gaze riveted back to me.

This is my friend Roman, he said almost negligently.

I hadn’t even noticed the man’s approach. He was a little taller and more heavily built than Dimitri – and that was saying something. If he hadn’t been standing beside a god-like man, I would have said he was attractive in a dangerous, bad boy kind of way. As it was, he looked ordinary in comparison.

His pinched, slightly mean features softened when he turned a wide smile on Christine and shook the hand she offered. She lowered her lashes and shot him a sultry look as she breathed her name in introduction.

You are American? Dimitri kept his attention focused on me, and his body shifted slightly to angle his back to Christine, corralling me away from my friend. Unease pinged in my gut, but again it was accompanied by an oddly pleasant pull somewhere deeper within me.

Yes. My voice came out huskier than usual. I’m from South Carolina.

He grinned. I like your accent.

My answering smile was almost silly as I basked in his praise. This perfect man found me attractive. I could hardly believe it.

Thank you. I like yours. Did I sound… coy? Holy crud, I was flirting.

I took a gulp of my drink at the realization. I can do this. I’m broadening my horizons. I took another big sip to fortify myself.

What are you doing in St. Petersburg, Alicia? His deep voice lingered on my name, almost caressing it.

Uh… I fumbled again. He appeared delighted. I’m studying abroad, I managed to get out.

Get a grip! I inwardly chastised myself. Since when can’t you string two words together? It wasn’t at all like me to fall all over myself like this. In fact, I usually prided myself on being rather eloquent. Dimitri had me tongue-tied.

He took a step closer, getting right in my personal space. How long have you been here? I’ve never seen you at Rossi before. He reached out and trailed his fingertips down my arm. I stopped breathing. I would remember you.

The way he touched me so casually – as though he had every right – left me stunned.

I just got here three days ago, I managed after a few beats of silence. I had to keep talking, or he might go away. I was suddenly desperate to keep him close. My program lasts four weeks, but we haven’t had much time to get to know the area yet. This is our first night out.

I felt a pang of loss when his touch left my arm, but then my breath hitched when he nonchalantly tucked my hair behind my ear, languorously running his fingers through the golden blonde strands.

You should have a guide. I will show you around.

He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t even offering. It sounded like a decree.

I took another deep drink. This time, the vodka hit me, and a pleasant warmth permeated my muscles, loosening them.

Come dance with me. Again, it was more like an order than a request. His sense of entitlement was both shocking and improbably sexy. I never would have thought I’d find such arrogance attractive.

I don’t really dance, I protested, remembering how his eyes had mocked me before.

I do. His fingers left my hair to trail down my neck. He touched me so intimately, and I knew nothing about him other than his name. My brain should have been screaming at me to pull away, but I remained locked in place, relishing the feel of his hands upon me rather than being repulsed by a strange man’s nearness.

Come. He plucked my drink from my hand and set it on the bar. Then his palm settled at the small of my back, and he guided me toward the dance floor. His fingers found a patch of bare skin where the hem of