Blood of My Monster (Monster Trilogy #1 ) by Rina Kent

After I’ve bid my uncle and cousin farewell, a crippling sense of loneliness grabs hold of me. It gets so bad that I find it hard to breathe or think.

To avoid being questioned, I don’t go back to base right away. I’m on the edge right now and I might crack too easily under pressure.

Usually, I’d be doing muscle-strengthening exercises during my day off, but today, I took a break and was so excited to see my uncle and Mike. I feel even more accomplished since I rose in rank.

Turns out, this promotion is more of a curse than a blessing.

It’s been a week since I joined the Special Forces, and while it’s more intense than in my previous unit, I’ve learned to push myself and gradually remove my mental cage.

The moment I get comfortable at a certain pace, Captain Kirill completely overthrows it. Not only that, but he also has Viktor as the supervisor in charge, and he’s nothing short of a stoic, unbendable rock.

The other soldiers are used to him and his ways, so I’m the only one who has to adapt. Even the new recruits have integrated better than I have.

Absentmindedly, I roam the snowy streets for a few hours. The cold freezes my tears, but I still walk and walk. My feet come to a halt in front of a beautiful lace dress at the front of a shop. The creamy color gives it an elegant edge and the lace adds a beautiful feminine touch.

My heart swells. Will there ever be a day where I’ll wear a dress again?

I internally shake my head. Even if I do get the chance, would I know how to move in a dress anymore?

It’s been years since I wore one.

I begrudgingly step away from the shop and disappear in the herd of people. Once I’m calmer and have better control of my emotions, I head back to base.

I walk in with my back straight and my strides wide. It weirdly gives me confidence that I so desperately need in my current state.

The moment I step foot into the dormitory, large boots appear in front of me. I know who they belong to before looking up, and I straighten further before saluting.

“Where were you off to, Lipovsky?” Viktor’s gruff voice sounds heightened in the silence.

“I went out for a stroll.” I technically did, so it’s not a lie.

“Is a stroll more important than training, soldier?”

“No, but it’s my day off.”

“What did you just say?”

My spine jerks, and I realize that maybe I fucked up and shouldn’t have answered that way. Not that I’m lying, and I shouldn’t be expected to be available for training on my days off, but someone as rigid as Viktor wouldn’t understand. He has his set views and opinions, and he’s like an unmovable mountain.

He reminds me of Babushka in some ways.

“Leave the newbie alone, Viktor.” A different voice comes from behind me before its owner stops beside me.

The newcomer is another member of the unit. He looks a few years older than me, is built like a wall, and has angular yet weirdly welcoming features.

“You.” Viktor points at him. “Stay out of it, Maksim.”

“No can do. You’re bullying the poor man.” Maksim grabs me by the shoulder and basically drags me out back.

I don’t resist, not even when I feel the murderous energy radiating from Viktor.

“Are you sure that was a good idea?” I whisper as we go outside. Instantly, my nose starts running and needles of cold penetrate my skin.

I’d rather stay in the semblance of warmth inside, but I doubt Maksim would hear that request. He seems like the type who sweeps you off your feet for some sort of adventure.

“Never mind! You don’t know this, but Viktor is like a mountain you occasionally have to climb or simply jump over so that he stops being a pain in the ass, especially when we have an excuse such as a day off… Jesus, you feel so small, newbie.”

I go rigid, but then I force myself to relax again. “My name is Aleksander.”

“I’m Maksim. I noticed you being all stiff and alone this past week, and we don’t do that shit in this unit.” He tilts his chin forward. “How about some fun?”

We come to halt in front of a field for…football.

The soldiers are divided into two teams of eleven players. Concentration and contempt shine on their faces as if they’re on the battlefield.

A flat-out war is taking place. Not only do they tackle and hit each other, but they basically step on one another on the artificial turf.

Maksim, showing little to no care about the brutal play, strolls into the middle of an attack and steals the ball. Then he tactfully slips from the clutches of a few angry players.

“You and you. Out.” He points at two soldiers. “Lipovsky and I will be subbing in.”

At the mention of my name, almost everyone’s attention turns to me. I might not get as much shit from these guys as I did with Matvey and his goons, but they haven’t warmed up to me either. They keep me at arm’s length and barely address me at the meal table.

In fact, Maksim is the first one who’s ever talked to me.

“It’s okay,” I say, conscious of the unpleasant energy. “I can watch.”

“Nonsense.” Still holding the ball, Maksim comes to fetch me by dragging me in a half chokehold that kind of cuts off my air, but I’ve come to know that guys generally handle each other with roughness.

In theory, I can fight the dragging, but in reality, I can’t. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to.