Sasha (Belles & Mobsters, #6)

by Eva Winners

“You said you wanted to see me married,” I drawled lazily, ignoring his jab about Wynter. “So I had to find a bride.” “I said find a bride, not kidnap one,” he roared. “Semantics.”

Men are idiots. There was nothing more to be said. They were simple-minded assholes that either used their physical strength to overpower women or destroy them.

He screamed danger and ruthlessness.

“There you are, kotyonok.” A deep, unfamiliar voice had me turning my head.

The smile on my face felt genuine. Not sadistic. Not sarcastic. Fucking genuine. It should have been my first clue. I ignored it. Second clue, the strain in my pants. I never got hard from just looking at a woman. She was so damn beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her.

The woman had bewitched me.

“Because you’re mine.” The words were quiet. Soft. Yet, there was conviction in his voice that sent another shiver down my spine. “I want you all to myself. I’m yours. You’re mine. No one else can have you.” For the first time, my body didn’t protest against being owned by a man.

God, that woman made me pussy-whipped without even getting a taste of her pussy.

My phone beeped and I slid the message open. My breath cut through my lungs. My blood burned. The little girl in the picture had burn marks and cuts all over her. Black eye. Her auburn hair was more red than brown from blood staining it. Branka sat in a corner, her knees against her chest and fear on her face.

I’d rather cut off my hands than hurt her.

That was one of the best things I had done. Had her call me Moye Serdtse. One day, I would be her heart.

And still, the frightened little girl refused to leave. You’d think ten years of healing would be enough. It wasn’t.

“You’ll wait for me,” he demanded, his tone hard. “I’ll let you come, but you’ll promise me first that you’ll wait.”

“Good girl,” he praised and my chest glowed. It fucking glowed. “You’re so tight. That pussy is mine and for my cock only. God made it for me.” He released my hands, but they remained behind my back. His hand landed on my ass. Smack. “Understood?”

“One day, kotyonok, nothing will save you from me.” His voice was coarse. I had no idea what he meant by it. His hand came to my throat, his grip firm and a shiver rolled through me as his lips pressed against my ear. “You’re all mine now. From now until the end of time.”

Maybe there was a reason people I love always leave me. Maybe I was worthless. Maybe I wasn’t enough to fight for.

I’d known from that first kiss that there was no going back. She was too young. She’d grow up. She stole my fucking breath in that dress. The itch to go find her and see what she was doing was too great. I knew if I found her on a date in my current state, the whole city block would burn.

The betrayal and hurt in Branka’s eyes flitted through my mind, haunting me. The tight sensation in my chest grew and darkness spilled through me.

But fuck, that look Branka gave me dug claws into me. I should have gone after her. Blyad, Blyad. Blyad! If Branka would only listen. I was losing control of the situation. Of her.

I’d stalked her for years, kept tabs on her. Eliminated any boys that dared touch her. She’d been under my skin from that first kiss. Jesus, I was into hard-core sex and her innocent kiss rattled me.

“Because Branka has chosen her own man,” he gritted. The hell she has, I thought to myself. Branka and I would need to have a talk.

Love was passion. Obsession. Something, once we Nikolaevs found, we couldn’t live without. It was our blessing and our curse.

But I’d kill his father. Not for him. For Branka. Because the fucker thought he could trade my woman as if she were cattle.

“I’ll bleed for you.” The rasp of his voice brought goose bumps to my skin as a shiver rolled down my spine. His lips skimmed up my neck. “I’ll kill for you.” I sucked in a breath as he bit the sensitive skin where my neck and jaw met. “But nobody else will have you.”

“You're going to kill me, kotyonok?” he mused. “Better not delay, because I’m taking you home.”

My savage little woman. If she thought that little performance would dissuade me from pursuing her, she had another thing coming. If anything else, I wanted her even more. She’d marry me, not some wimpy little ass.

I fucking hated people touching what was mine. And the thought of another man or a woman hearing Branka’s moans was enough to send me into a fucking rage.

Her nails belonged on my skin. Her moans belonged to me. And her pussy definitely belonged to me. Yeah, the girl didn’t know it. But she would. Very soon. The need to have her raged inside me, hot and unrelenting.

Where was she? Was he touching her? Was she moaning his name?

I’d been watching her for years, stalking her and biding my time. I waited for her to be ready. She was fucking ready. For me. For us. I knew more about her than I did about my own family and friends.

However, if the fucker didn’t back off, I’d skin him alive. And he better not have touched Branka; otherwise, a damn war would be the least of everyone’s worries.

That was how deep I had fallen. I was here contemplating murder and starting a war. For Branka Russo, the woman that chose someone else.

Either way, Branka wouldn’t marry the Irish fucker. As long as there was a single breath left in my body.

“I wouldn’t want him to move on,” I grumbled. “Fuck that shit. I’d demand he get in the fucking casket with me. Together forever, life or death.”

My eyes drifted to Killian who watched her dancing. He liked her. But he didn’t love her. Not like me.

I wanted her to need only me. To live and breathe just for me.

Branka Russo. My own temptation. A girl I wanted to worship. The woman whose full submission I craved.

I couldn’t let go. She was my vice. My addiction. My obsession.

The most perfect woman and she couldn’t even stand to look at me. Our relationship was bound to improve once I kidnapped her though.

uhm I don't think it works like that, Sasha.

I’d be damned if I let another man own that body. I touched her. I made her moan and scream my name. Nobody would touch that little body but me.

My little kotyonok would learn that I’d never let her go.

My stupid body wanted him, but he was all wrong for me. He lied to me. He didn’t wait for me. He didn’t choose me first.

“I claimed you” —his voice was a dark rasp, full of promises—“and I’m going to keep you.”

“I thought it was obvious,” he said, his tone bored and lazy. Sasha aimed a gun at my brother’s skull, his hand steady and his finger on the trigger. “But if you need fucking clarification, I’m kidnapping the bride.” He

Annoyance flared in my chest. It pissed me off that she’d put on some princessy dress. For him. When she was mine. She has been mine. And she made a goddamn promise she’d wait. Did she? Fuck no.

I stared at him in shock and my mouth dropped. He thought sending him a human heart and the message in blood stating he’d be next was romantic. He was even more unhinged than I thought. Jesus Christ. And I wanted to sleep with him.

He grinned as if he thought it was a great idea. “Baby, your initials have been carved into my heart for a long time. But you got it. What my kotyonok wants, she gets. Let me just line up a heart transplant. I’ll find a matching donor.”

“Tell me, kotyonok,” he continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Has he touched you?”

“Has. He. Touched. You?” His voice was cool, but darkness crept into each syllable.

“He will pay if he has touched you.” I exhaled as he tugged my head back further so I’d look him in the eyes. “I’ll skin him alive if you have touched him. And when I’m finished with him, his head will sit on my mantel.”