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

And while I try to distract him so he doesn’t focus on my body for too long, that can’t last forever.

Kirill isn’t an idiot. He already senses that something is wrong. If I don’t tell him, he’ll eventually figure it out himself.

A part of me wants to say it. I even stopped myself from blurting it all out last night.

But the other part realizes that if I take this step, there’s no going back.

I’ll just be trapped in Kirill’s web with no way out and I’m not sure that’s where I want to be.

Especially since I’ve been trying to contact my uncle and haven’t been able to get through. The situation is muddied at best, and I’m at a crossroads where nothing makes sense.

Nothing but the baby.

I’ve been surprisingly elated since I found out about him. He’s the only thing I want with everything in me. The rest is blurry.

Okay, that’s a lie. I want Kirill, too. I want him to the point of madness, and I don’t only mean physically. I want his heart. I want to be so far inside him, he won’t be able to replace me.

But the wound is so raw; I don’t think I can ever throw caution to the wind this time.

Even when I was secretly happy when he introduced me to everyone as his wife.

And I don’t only mean his family, members of his staff, and the leaders of the brotherhood, but also his entire social circle.

He took me around the room with his hand on my lower back, saying, “Have you met my beautiful wife? She’s Russian.”

Yes, all the small talk was tiresome and I’m pretty sure he did it so everyone would know that I’m his and, therefore, off-limits, but I enjoyed every second of it.

Probably because I never dreamed that I’d be on his arm as a woman.

No, not on his arm.

His wife.

The only wife he’ll ever have.

“Kirill?” I step in front of him, so he stops walking.

He’s been ignoring my questions since we left the house. His expression is closed off, his eyes are more intense than those of an arctic wolf, and his jaw is set.

I touch the lapel of his jacket, taking in the hint of tattoos peeking through the top open buttons of his shirt.

Although I woke up with his cock sliding inside me, and he fucked me senseless just this morning, I can’t seem to get enough of him.

My sex drive matches his—if not more. I could blame the hormones, but then again, there has never been a day when I didn’t want Kirill Morozov.

Even during the time I planned to kill him.

“What’s going on?” I ask in a careful tone.

I hate it when he deliberately closes himself off from me.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He takes my hand in his and basically drags me into one of the rooms.

The nurse and doctor are waiting while carrying a tray with some equipment on it.

“You can get started,” he tells them and applies pressure on my shoulder so that I sit down on the bed.

“Get started on…what?”

Shit.

Don’t tell me he already found out I’m pregnant? And if he did, what is he getting started on?

Kirill looms over me, his shoulders appearing wider and more frightening. “The doctor will now put a tracker in your arm. It shouldn’t take long.”

My lips part. “W-what?”

“You heard me just fine, Sasha.”

“Yes, I did, but I’m trying to figure out if you’re joking.”

“I never joke.”

“You already track my damn phone. Why would you need this as well?”

“Because your phone isn’t reliable when it’s turned off or when you lose it intentionally or unintentionally.”

“So you’re putting a tracker in me? Just like that?”

“It’s the only option to ensure your safety.”

I stand up and jam a finger in his chest. “More like, the only option for you to monitor me. I’m not doing this.”

I start to move past him, but he grabs my arms and sits me back down so fast, dizziness assaults me.

He lowers himself so that his cold eyes are level with mine. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Difficult? So I’m the one who’s being difficult in this?”

“You have a tendency to disappear, so this is the best solution to make sure you’re safe.”

“Don’t do this,” I whisper gently. “This isn’t how you make me your partner, Kirill.”

“I can’t make you my fucking partner when you’re thinking about running off.” He looks back at the doctor and nurse, who have been watching the show silently. “Do it.”

I start to fight, kicking and clawing at his arm, but he pins me down on the bed with brute strength. His knees are on either side of my thighs, keeping them in place, and he imprisons my wrists above my head on the bed.

I have to loosen my muscles so he doesn’t crush my belly or something.

He hovers above me and releases a hand, but he keeps my shoulder flat and immobile on the bed.

The nurse disinfects my upper arm. The coldness of the alcohol isn’t even uncomfortable, but moisture gathers in my eyes.

I stare at him through my blurry vision, then whisper, “I hate you.”

“You can hate me all you like as long as you’re safe.”

“The one person I need to be safe from is you, asshole.”