Heart of My Monster (Monster Trilogy #3) by Rina Kent

But they need to understand that I’m the only one who can save Anton. Knowing Kirill, he’ll make sure of that.

After I finish eating, I yawn.

Today was such a long day. Probably one of the worst I’ve ever had.

My brother is being held captive God knows where.

I can’t leave for three months.

And most importantly, I’ve realized with bitter irony that I can’t kill Kirill. In fact, a part of me is revolting at the fact that I shot him in the first place.

It’s the stupid, loyal, naïve part that completely lost it when I saw him at the bottom of that hill with a gash in his chest.

I guess I’ll never forget that scene, no matter how much I try or how long it’s been.

With another yawn, I lie on the bed and close my eyes. I’ll just rest for a minute, and then I’ll look for my brother.

Only a minute…

A strong arm wraps around me, and warmth spoons me from behind. It’s a nightmare, I realize.

No, a dream.

The presence behind me doesn’t feel threatening in the least. In fact, I lean into his touch, a soft moan leaving my lips.

I like the Kirill from my dreams. He doesn’t talk and only allows me to use him as comfort against the haunting nightmares.

They don’t come when he’s cuddling me like this.

They don’t interfere with this small fantasy I’ve been pretending I don’t like.

But then the supposedly dream-like Kirill slips what feels like a ring on my finger and whispers in my ear, “Welcome home, Solnyshko.”





13





SASHA





A heavy weight rests on my middle.

Instead of being a burden, it’s actually comforting. I nuzzle my nose against the pillow, and my nostrils flood with the forbidden scent of deep forest and cedar.

Could it be that I’m imagining things?

That’s the only explanation for this sensory overload or why I’m leaning closer to the source.

Warmth engulfs my body and spreads to my chest and core, so I inch over farther, needing more.

My movements pause when something hard nudges my stomach, poking me through my clothes.

“Mmm.”

The rumble of a very familiar deep voice causes my eyes to pop open.

Please tell me this is my imagination—

No.

Nope.

It’s definitely real. I’m actually trapped in Kirill’s embrace, my face resting on his neck until I can almost taste his shower gel on my tongue. I realize with horror that this is what I’ve been smelling since I woke up.

Our fronts are glued together, and the thing that’s poking my stomach? It’s his erection.

Oh, and one more thing.

He’s naked.

What gives him the right to touch me? Hold me as if he owns me?

How dare he?

I jerk away, forcing his hand to fall from around my waist.

Kirill grunts since that happens to be his injured arm. My eyes meet his arctic ones, and judging by the focused look in them, he probably woke up much earlier than I did. Or maybe he didn’t sleep at all.

I scoot to the other side of the bed, trying not to ogle his hard inked chest and arms. Under the morning light that’s slipping in from the windows and balcony, his tattoos appear darker. Menacing, too. Like everything about him.

I can’t help staring at the two bullet scars on his chest. They’re covered up with a new intricate tattoo and would be invisible to someone who doesn’t look hard enough. I, however, could find them even if I were blind.

After everything, the thought that he nearly died in Russia because of me still turns my stomach.

You’re playing a dangerous game, Sasha. You’re having empathy for the monster who wouldn’t hesitate to destroy you.

He sits up, and the covers drop to below his navel, revealing the defined V-line that leads to—

I snap my attention back to his face and purse my lips when I find him smirking.

“Morning, wife. Did you sleep well?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Oh, wait. I actually did.

My lips part. I didn’t have any nightmares last night. Or dreams.

I had nothing. For the first time in a very long time, I just did something normal and slept.

“Is it the mattress?” He presses down on it, then on the covers. “The pillow? The bed itself?”

“More like the one in the bed,” I mutter under my breath.

“That’s your defense mechanism speaking, but that’s fine. I can wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For the day you become my wife again.”

“I was never your wife, Kirill.”

“Yes, you are. You said ‘I do’ and took my cock like a very good wife that same night. Besides, I have a marriage certificate to prove it.”

“That doesn’t count since we’re getting a divorce.”

His permanent smirk disappears, but his expression remains light, playful even, but it doesn’t appear natural. “Until then, you’re still my wife.”

“Reluctantly.”

“Legally.”

I lift my chin. “Temporarily.”

“Currently.”

The bastard gets off on any war I attempt to start. If I want to get anywhere in this situation, I need to stop feeding his perversion.

I cross my arms over my chest, and his gaze falls to my breasts, catching fire and causing my body to heat. I clear my throat. “When are you going to release Anton?”