Hunted By The Bratva Beast: A Bratva Stalker/Captive Romance, Jagger Cole [good books to read for 12 year olds .txt] 📗

the dream sizzle inside of me, until I can’t stop myself.

Who are you?

The second I send it, it feels like I’m going to have a heart attack. My stomach knots, and my pulse is so fast that I’m gasping for air. But slowly, I get control of myself again. I breathe, staring at the phone. I almost imagine I’m going to get a “oh great, you found my phone!” Text back from the orderly who accidentally left it here. But when the three dots appear, I already know that won’t be the case.

You know who I am.

I tremble and stare at his words. I am officially talking with the man who’s been stalking me, and haunting my dreams, and watching me. And, at least I think, protecting me. The man who kissed me.

The Beast.

Yes.

I shiver, biting my lip.

Do you prefer that name? I mean, do you like it?

It is my name.

I almost don’t type it. Then I do and erase it. But then I write it out again and hit send.

If you’d rather, I can call you Kostya.

The three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again, only to vanish. But finally, he starts typing again.

You have done your homework.

I grin.

Always good to know who it is who’s stalking you

Is that what you think I am?

The simple answer is yes. The more complex answer includes “but I find that idea thrilling, and more than a little hot.” Except I can’t write that. Those are the thoughts of a crazy girl—a damaged girl.

But really, there aren’t any words to write to accurately tell him what I think of him—or how I think of him. So before I can lose my nerve—and it may be the pain meds still in my system—I hit the call button.

My pulse races and I hold my breath as I bring the phone to my ear. I wonder if he’ll pick up. Part of me hopes he won’t, so he’ll stay this mysterious fantasy man. But the fantasy has already bled into real life. This stopped being a fantasy when he kissed me earlier.

“Nina.”

The way he growls my name with a voice like leather and whiskey makes me tremble. It makes me warm all over, and it makes me rake my teeth over my lip.

“Kostya,” I whisper back.

I hear him breathing quietly.

“That is who you are, right?”

“Da,” he grunts.

“Ty by predpochel goverit’ po-russki?” Would you rather speak in Russian?

“Nyet,” Kostya grates out. “No, English is fine.”

I feel myself blush more, hearing his voice.

“You’ve been watching me.”

“Yes,” he answers with zero hesitation. The heat of that one word makes my core tighten and throb.

“Why?”

“It is…” Kostya makes a growling sound. “Complicated.”

“I’m a smart girl.”

“Da, I know you are.”

“So tell me.”

“You may not like the truth, Nina.”

“I might not. But life is full of hard truths.”

“Yes, it is,” Kostya grunts.

“And I think you know that as well as I do.”

He says nothing.

“Where are you from?”

“Moscow.”

I smile. “Same here, actually.”

“I know.”

I blush, feeling my pulse quicken. “You know a lot about me.”

“I know everything about you.”

I feel my face burn. “You’ve also done your homework.”

“Watching you is not work.”

My lips curl into a smile. Is this flirting? Am I flirting with the man who’s been stalking me?

“How often are you…” I squirm under the covers. My God, I am. I’m flirting, hard, with this man. “How often are you watching me?”

“A lot of the time. Most of the time.”

“Did you scare my date off tonight?”

“Yes,” he snarls, roughly. The possessive tone makes me shiver, and it makes me throb with a need I’ve never known before. I want to ask the next question. But I’m scared to. I’m scared of what the answer might be, but also scared of what it might not be.

“Why?” I whisper. “Why did you scare him off?”

“Nina…”

“Was—is—he dangerous?”

“Nyet.”

“Was he trying to hurt me?”

“No.”

“Married?”

“No, Nina—”

“So why would you—”

“Because you are not his!” Kostya snarls.

His words take my breath away, making me gasp as I tremble in the bed.

“Then whose am I—”

“Mine,” he growls savagely. “You are mine.”

“I…” I tremble, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“That is how this works.”

I smile through the blush. “You simply decreeing that I’m yours?”

“Yes.”

My smile grows wider. My pulse quickens. “Does this work on all of your women?”

“I’ve been in prison for ten years, little one,” he grunts.

Fuck, it’s hot when he calls me that.

“No women to stalk in jail?”

He chuckles, quietly. It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh.

“No, there are not.”

The conversation goes quiet for a few long seconds.

“I’m sorry I shot you,” I finally say quietly.

“You should not be sorry for that.”

“Because you were trying to take me?”

“Yes.” Again, the answer comes with zero hesitation.

“Why?”

Kostya takes a deep breath. “This is another question that you might not like the answer to.”

“Try me.”

“I’d rather not,” he growls.

“Kostya—”

“It is the past, and reasons have changed. We don’t…” he sighs. “We don’t need to discuss it.”

“Well, I would like to discuss you trying to abduct me.” I bite my lip. “That is what you were doing that night, isn’t it?”

He grunts. “Yes.”

My mouth thins. “You could have hurt my family, you know,” I say coolly. “You did hurt some of my family, actually.”

“The shooting was not me, Nina.”

I frown. “What?”

“The shooting. The guns on the tripods. That was not me. I was trying to take you that night,” he says bluntly. “But I was not shooting anyone.”

I tremble with a cold fear. “Well… who was it, then?” My stomach suddenly knots. “Oh my God, was it the same people from tonight?”

“Da,” he growls thickly.

“And do you know who they are?” I whisper

“I don’t. But I am hunting them.”

I swallow. “Like you hunt me?”

“Not like I hunt you, little one,” he hisses dangerously.

“So you’re protecting me.”

“Yes,” Kostya growls thickly. “Always.”

“And you’ve been watching me.”

“I have.”

I blush. “Have you…” my blush grows warmer on my face, and a heat tingles across my skin, down over my chest, delving into my core. “Have you liked what you’ve seen?” I whisper.

Kostya