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

“Nina…”

“He found two more boys, at another orphanage.”

Kostya’s hand closes to a fist.

“Anatoly and Kiril. They were big, like you. Fyodor trained them to fight in boxing matches.”

When I see his face fall, I know I’ve hit a nerve. I know how painful this is, and it’s like that knife is cutting me too as I do this. But he has to know. He needs to understand, like I finally understood about Bogdan.

“Kiril died in one of those fights. He was eleven, Kostya. Eleven.”

“Please,” he hisses.

“Anatoly turned himself in for a shooting he wasn’t even in Moscow during. But it’s Moscow, so the police didn’t give a shit. He went to prison, and he died in a riot.”

I step closer to Kostya, who’s shaking, his jaw clenched so hard I’m worried for his teeth.

“I know the war in your heart, Kostya,” I whisper. “I know the gaslighting, and the bullshit, and the lies, and the feeling that you need to hang on to something rotten, because ’that’s what family does.’ And that is bullshit,” I hiss. “I have a family now. I know what it means to love and be loved; to respect and be respected back. Family isn’t fear—”

“Nina—”

“It’s not threats.”

“Goddamnit, Nina…”

I step right into him. I reach up and cup his cheek. He’s shaking, his shoulders heaving up and down.

“Family catches you and saves you. Family pulls you back from the edge,” I choke, my voice breaking. “It doesn’t push you over the side.”

“Nina…”

“I’m right here.”

He crashes into me, his huge arms enveloping me so tight my breath catches. But I grab him back. I hold him as he buries his face in my neck and roars like a lion.

We stand like that, just holding each other, for I don’t even know how long. But it doesn’t matter.

Like I said, I’ve fought this battle. I’ve fought it every day since Viktor pulled me out of hell and brought me to a life I’d never even let myself dream about. No one ever pulled Kostya out of his own hell. But I can.

When he pulls back, his eyes are hard. But there’s an urgency in them as he pulls me into his chest. His mouth lowers to mine, and I moan as our lips come together. It’s just a kiss at first. But then, it’s a lot more.

His grip on me tightens. His kiss becomes deeper, hungrier. The ache in me turns to desire—the broken parts of me melting with the heat throbbing in my core. I feel him grow hard and thick against me. His huge cock swells between my thighs, and I whimper as I reach down for him.

“Nina,” he groans.

“You have me.”

He growls into my lips, and I whimper as he suddenly lifts me up into him. I moan as he spins us, slamming my back into the wall as I hungrily kiss his mouth. His hands grip my ass, and my legs wrap around his waist.

I can feel his thick head slip against my opening. With a snarl, he pushes inside, taking my breath away. I moan, gasping into his lips. My arms wrap around his neck, my fingers threading into his hair.

Kostya groans and thrusts into me. I cry out as his whole length buries to the hilt in my eager heat. He pulls back but then pounds into me again, like he’s fucking me into the wall at my back. My nails claw at him eagerly. My nipples rake across his chest. And I kiss him desperately and deeply.

He groans my name into my mouth as he fucks me hard, pounding into me over and over. I scream into his lips as I come hard, but he keeps going. His fingers dig into my skin. His heavy balls slap my ass, and he ruts into me like a demon.

I come again, and again. I lose track after that until his mouth bruises to mine. He groans as he buries himself balls-deep. I moan and follow him into the orgasm as I feel him explode inside of me. His hot cum spills deep, filling me as I squeeze around him and cling to him tightly.

His lips press hotly to mine. They stay right there as he wraps his arms around me and gently carries me to the bed. We lay down across it, but he never pulls out of me. And his lips never leave mine.

16

Kostya

Siberia, Four Years Ago:

I wake to the sound of a baton banging on the metal bars of my cell. I crack my eyes open, seeing mostly darkness, save for the single bare bulb down the hall.

“Vstavay ublyudok!” Wake up, motherfucker.

Some men in here try and learn the guards’ names—to sway them, to befriend them. To pass the information outside the walls for leverage within. I don’t, and I don’t give a shit to try. To me, they are all the same. And they all see me as everyone else in this place sees me.

If we’re in hell, then I am the devil.

It’s my size, mostly. I’ve got at least a foot and maybe fifty pounds of muscle on most of the men in here. Even the big ones. For a while, that made me a target. It still does, but only to the truly crazy, or the one’s hellbent on proving something to who the fuck knows who.

The guard outside my cell bangs on the bars again with a grin. “Vstavay!” He yells at me again. Wake up.

Again, my bruised and swollen eyes crack open to glare at him. It might be morning, it might not be. I’ve been in solitary for a week, after the last fight. There were six of them, and I still have no fucking idea what their issue with me was. I also don’t care. Whatever that issue was, it isn’t one anymore. Not with all six of them dead.

A week is nothing. After three, you begin to feel the insanity clawing at your insides. After a month, you