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

She shakes her head. “At least, I hope they weren’t, considering they were trying to kill me and all.”

“How great is the chance of them coming after you to save Anton?”

“Seventy percent?” she says with a pained smile, and I want to kill each and every one of them who put the pain there.

This is troublesome.

If her own family won’t protect her, she’s under serious threat. I’m fine with them coming after me, but if they attempt to hurt her, I’ll have to rip their hearts out. And she might hate me for it.

“That high?”

“I never mattered in the great scheme of things.” She stares out the window at the endless darkness. “When I was a child, I was the clueless, sheltered tomboy who only cared about playing. After the massacre, I was transformed into a soldier for the family. Almost overnight, I became a weapon to be used to protect our assets and to exact revenge. I’m only a support to Anton, a tool he can use when he becomes the heir. The saddest part is that I don’t think I’ll have a purpose after all of this is over. Once everything ends, I’ll have to find myself another role.”

“Have you already started looking for that role by dressing like a woman again?”

Her lips part. “How did you know that?”

“A hunch.”

“Yeah. I told them that I wouldn’t walk around like a man anymore. I’m strong enough to protect myself now. If I’m attacked, then so be it.”

That’s my woman.

I love how her eyes shine with determination at her decision to finally be free. Or partially free since she’s still bound to her family by an unspoken code of loyalty.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I bring her another glass and sit beside her. “No one will be able to hurt my wife as long as I’m here.”

She deposits the empty glass on the table and takes the new one. “Would you stop calling me that?”

“Well, aren’t you my wife?”

“Have you ever considered that you could be hurting me the most?”

“How so? I think I’ve proved that none of your misconceptions about me are true. Imagine if you’d kept believing I married another woman and tried to kill you and your family.”

She tenses. It’s subtle, and she soon conceals it, but the image of that possibility must’ve passed through her mind a thousand times.

Sasha’s weakness—the fact that she tends to be an overthinker—could be her downfall.

After a moment of silence, she looks at me, her eyes a mixture of soft green and harsh brown. “You would still put your plans, ambition, and race for power before me. I can’t trust that you won’t do it again.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“Paranoid? I told you I loved you and you announced your damn engagement to the whole world a few hours later. How is that paranoid?”

I start to speak, but she lifts a hand. “Let’s talk about something else. What are you going to do when you find Makar?”

“Torture him for answers. The Albanians said they colluded with a man to take you out.”

“You don’t think that’s Makar?”

“No. He’s been a servant his whole life. He wouldn’t suddenly turn into a master.”

“Do you think someone is behind his actions?”

“I don’t think. I’m sure. Now, I need to figure out how close that someone is.”

“You have suspects?”

“I always do.”

“Of course.” She releases a breath. “So you torture him and then what?”

“Then you do with him what you please.”

“You’ll entrust him to me?”

“Seems fair since he tried to kill you.”

“Wow. Is the mighty Kirill giving someone else the final say about a critical matter?”

“Not someone else.” I slide my arm around her waist and pull her to me so suddenly, a few droplets of vodka splash her chest. “My wife.”

Despite her best attempts to seem unperturbed, a pink hue covers her cheeks.

I stroke those cheeks as if I can feel the blush against my skin. Sasha remains still, but her lips part as I caress her.

“Have I told you that you look hot when you allow yourself to be you?”

“Save it.” She inches away. “I don’t even put on makeup or anything, so there’s no need for the flattery.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I haul her back to my side again, trying not to get personally offended at the way she created distance between us. “I don’t give a fuck about makeup. I’m talking about you and your stunning blonde hair.”

“I knew blondes were your type,” she grumbles.

I grin. “Is that why you dyed it back?”

“Nooo.” She looks the other way like the most horrible liar who ever walked the earth.

“You told me you were blonde, too, when I first got engaged to Kristina.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You also said you could be like her. Were you that jealous?”

“No. Kristina who? I haven’t thought about her since I left.” Even as she says that, her cheeks redden and her lips purse.

I’ll have to buy my new sister-in-law a thank-you card that says, ‘Sorry I called you a robot’ for managing to provoke out this side of my wife.