Bratva Prince (Bratva, #2)

by T.J. Maguire

“If you ever lay another finger on Drea again, I’ll cut your fucking hand off. Do I make myself clear?”

This was weird. Nice, but weird. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m not a hugger. The only reason I wasn’t fighting it was because my head was nestled between her breasts and it was…comforting.

I frowned at how easily the endearment slipped from my lips. I knew I should probably be concerned with how attached I was becoming to her, but I couldn’t find the energy to actually care. When I was with her, I felt warm, light. I didn’t want to lose that. To lose her.

“I’ll never fucking stop. You’re mine. I’m never letting you go.”

“It’s not just about the physical things for me, Drea. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the physical side of things is—” a sinful grin curled on his lips, “—mind blowing.” I smirked. Yeah, our sexual chemistry was off the charts. “But there’s more to it than that for me. Being around you soothes my mind, it quiets the storm raging inside of me. It brings peace to my soul. I could be having the worst, most frustrating day and seeing your smile—yes, that smile right there—would make all my troubles just fade away.”

“Why didn’t you run?” I frowned at his question. “During the attack,” he clarified. Ah. “You had the perfect opportunity to do so. Aleksandr told me he gave you this address and told you to contact your brother, to tell him to come get you. But you didn’t. Instead you put your life in danger and fought alongside my brother. You helped us. Why?” “Because I love him.” Duh.

turned the laptop on my desk to face her and pushed play. When her eyes darted down to the screen, her face dropped. The surveillance footage from the night of the attack played out over the laptop. It showed Mila entering the guardhouse at the front gate and giving a plate of cupcakes to the two soldiers on duty. Not even thirty seconds later, they both vomited up blood and fell to a heap on the floor.

“You sent your brother to let me go.” She said it with an accusatory glint in her eyes, her voice taking on a threatening tone. “I did. Because if I did it myself, I wouldn’t have let you get in the car.” “Really? Why’s that?” “You know why.” “Tell me anyway.” I ran my eyes over every detail of her face. Those soft, feminine features. Beautiful caramel skin. Mesmerising amber eyes. That warm, fuzzy feeling I always got when I thought about her bloomed in my chest, coated in a thick, dark possessiveness that almost choked me. “Because I love you.” Her breath hitched. “I love you so much it hurts. It physically hurts to be without you, to not see you. To not speak to you. To think of you gone. You’ve managed to burn yourself into my mind, my soul. Branded yourself in my heart. So, now you own it.”

Things in our life always moved quickly. Death was around every corner. You couldn’t afford to waste the time you had, because you were never sure if your time was coming. So, once we’d finished dealing with the aftermath from the attack, I organised a surprise for Drea, to show her how much I cared for her. How much she meant to me.