Blood of My Monster: Chapter 32

“If it isn’t Kirill’s weak bodyguard.”

I straighten and turn around at the familiar deep voice and nod.

Damien studies me in that calculative way that always looks like he’s up to no good. He’s been constant about his intentions to fight Kirill, going as far as crashing dinners at the main house, announcing a fight to the death in front of the Pakhan, and everything in between.

He still hasn’t gotten the okay from Kirill, and while that would’ve made anyone else give up, that’s not the case for Damien.

If anything, he’s become even more insistent about getting what he considers is his ‘rightful fight.’

This morning, we’re at the Pakhan’s house for the weekly meeting, an occurrence that I heard Damien never gave a fuck about but has been attending religiously ever since his imaginary rivalry with Kirill started.

He came out of the meeting before everyone else, though, since he gets bored of these things, which is why he’s talking to me.

He retrieves a cigarette and stuffs it in his mouth, then lights it as he sizes me up. “Though you’re not as weak as when we first met. You training those muscles, Sasha?”

My lips part. How does he know that when I wear clothes that are a size too big?

After that two-hour nap in his car six months ago, Kirill abruptly stopped the one-on-one training sessions. But I’ve continued training every day, sometimes with Maksim and Yuri, sometimes alone.

“You’re still weak, though,” Damien continues in his one-sided monologue. “Weak getting strong, so there’s an improvement. Here’s a piece of advice.”

He gets closer, and I’m assaulted by the smell of cigarettes. “You’re a good sniper, eh? Train those arms and stick to that.”

That’s the same thing Kirill told me a long time ago. Do they really think I can’t get physically stronger? In that case, I would be happy to prove them wrong, even if it’s the last thing I do.

“Now pay me for that advice,” he says with a grin that would look charming under different circumstances.

Damien is a very attractive man with a shock of dark hair, dark brows, and piercing green-gray eyes, but the charm stops there. His personality doesn’t make up for it, and I’m apparently broken, because I keep comparing every man’s looks to Kirill’s.

No one even comes close to that monster’s intense attractiveness.

“Pay you?” I echo his words.

“Yeah, I gave advice, and I expect payment.”

“I never asked for advice and, therefore, refuse to provide any type of payment.”

“Now, now.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t be so stiff, Sasha. That’s your problem, you know. You take everything way too seriously. Be like your boss and start being a little laid-back.”

Kirill is anything but laid-back. He’s ruthless. He’s calculative. And most importantly, he’s merciless.

I’ve seen him kill people without a second thought and order his men to do it for him because he can’t be bothered.

But because he’s methodical and gives off a playful, somewhat chill public persona, everyone, including those in the organization, think he’s easy to approach and deal with.

Which I’m sure is a tactic he’s using to bring their guard down and hit them when they least expect it. Damien and Mikhail are the only ones who fall for it readily. The others might not show it, but they’re wary of Kirill. Especially Rai, which is concerning since she’s holding a ‘secret’ over his head.

Damien brings my attention back to him when he tightens his hold on my shoulder. “I won’t ask for a lot for payment. Just forward me Kirill’s schedule for the week.”

“With all due respect, I decline.”

“Oh, come on, that won’t cost you anything.”

“I’m forbidden to reveal anything about Boss’s schedule. Besides”—I give him the side-eye—“don’t you think this is a little excessive and stalker-ish?”

It is very stalker-ish, but I refrain from saying that out of respect for his position.

“Blame your fucking boss. If he agreed like a normal human being, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

The door of the conference room opens, and Kirill comes out first, talking with Adrian. He casts a mere glance toward us, but it’s enough to make me breathe heavily.

I thought that with the passage of time, I’d become immune to the hold Kirill has on me. I’d learn to be less self-conscious around him, and he’d stop affecting me with a mere look, but I was miserably wrong. Not only is the effect there, but it’s also grown.

We’ve been in a sexual relationship for months, using each other, as I so stupidly said that day he fucked me in his car. I didn’t mean to, but I was hurt by how he chose to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed that first time.

Before that, I genuinely thought he stayed up all night working, but he slept just fine, just not beside me.

So I assumed we were using each other for sex, and apparently, I assumed correctly. He fucks me like a madman every day, sometimes a few times a day—in his office, in the car, or while waiting for a drug shipment. Wherever he deems fit.

But he still has never slept beside me on the bed. Not even once. I’ve tried telling him I’ll help him sleep, but he vehemently refuses. My pride is a little wounded since I seriously thought I’d accomplished something by helping him fall asleep that time before the drug shipment.

For some reason, however, he’s felt a bit more distant since then.

When I asked him why he moved my clothes to his closet, he said it was more ‘convenient’ that way. I really hate the apathetic tone he speaks with sometimes.

So, as a form of revenge, I’ve developed the habit of staying up late with the guys and crashing at their place whenever I feel like being a brat.

That usually only increases his already insatiable sexual appetite, though.

And just like that, we’ve fallen into this life of sexual gratification, physical attraction, and mad lust. It’ll eventually come to an end—I know that. But I still don’t want it to stop just yet.

Maybe it’s useless selfishness, but Kirill, or more like this mythical attraction to him, is the only thing I’ve done for myself in a very long time. If I were to let it go, I’d feel like I was being forced back behind the bars of my previous prison.

Not that the prison is entirely gone, but it feels less restrictive now. I don’t only exist to exact revenge for my family. I’m also doing something for myself.

I feel like a woman in his arms. I feel beautiful and wanted and…right. It’s weird, but it’s right.

Adrian and Kirill separate at the entrance. My monster, who looks more gorgeous than a god, backtracks and tilts his head in Damien’s direction.

“Are you nagging my people again?”

“Come on. Sasha and I are friends.” Damien squeezes my shoulder tighter as if driving the point home.

“Are you now?” Kirill’s calm voice makes me nervous for some reason. I’ve always hated how expressionless he is. How he can conceal himself beneath layers no one can catch a glimpse of, no matter what they do.

“Do you want to take him, then?” he asks Damien. “Since you’re friends, you’ll be able to employ him, no?”

My heart falls, and I stare at him. Is he…really pushing me toward Damien? Just like that?

Has the time come when he’s gotten sick of me and wants to dispose of me in the most practical way possible?

“How can I know your schedule if I employ him?” Damien releases me with a click of his tongue. “How about you give me that fucking fight so we can get this over with?”

“How about you stop being annoying, and all of this will be over,” he snaps in his face, “just like that.”

“I refuse.” Damien pushes Kirill’s shoulder on his way out. “I swear to fucking fuck, I’ll get you one of these days.”

“Sounds like a clingy wife,” Kirill calls after him with a slight smirk.

“Fuck you.” Damien flips him off without turning around.

Kirill’s smirk abruptly disappears as he stares at me. No, he glares before he heads to the car without a word.

I’m left there, partially breathless, partially not knowing what to do. What the hell was that all about?

It takes me a few moments to collect myself before I follow after. I find Yuri waiting by the car, brow furrowed.

“Did something happen inside?” Yuri whispers.

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

“Boss seemed displeased, but Viktor shrugged when I asked him if something went awry in the meeting.”

I swallow as I go to the passenger door, only to find fucking Viktor already seated there.

Shit.

Now, I have to be beside a clearly pissed-off Kirill. Well, not clearly, since he’s scrolling through some files on his iPad. But then again, his calmness is never good news. Besides, his jaw is tense, which is usually a bad sign.

I keep to my side of the seat, quietly counting the seconds until we get to our next stop.

After a few moments, I’m reminded of why I’m also on edge, and I start getting mad at the way he treated me.

“What’s on the schedule this afternoon?” he asks without looking up from his tablet.

“Not sure. I erased it, thinking I was being transferred to Damien.”

He adjusts his glasses as his intense eyes fall on me. “Was that sarcasm?”

“Were you really going to let Damien have me if he wanted to?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. Since you’re friends, I thought it might be a good idea to give you a change of scenery.”

“I wouldn’t want that, and I would appreciate it if you’d check with me before making these decisions.”

His eyes narrow, but he reverts his attention back to his tablet and says nothing.

Since he seems to be in a better mood, I straighten. Originally, I’d planned to ask this later tonight, maybe after sex since he seems the most amiable then, but I don’t trust myself not to fall asleep.

Besides, it’s better if we have an audience so he doesn’t question me for long.

“Boss…” I start.

“Hmm?”

“Can I have three days’ vacation?”

At that, he looks up from his iPad and even tilts it to the side. “Why?”

“It’s…private.”

Silence falls between us for one second.

Two.

Three.

Then, without a change of expression, he says, “Fine.”

“R-really?”

“Yes.”

I narrow my eyes. To say this is highly suspicious would be an understatement. I was mentally prepared to fight tooth and nail for this while undergoing his unforgiving questioning. I even thought of how to survive if I cracked and told him everything under torture.

True, Kirill hasn’t asked again about the ‘man’ he thought I was talking to that one time, and I somehow thought maybe he’d really taken my threat seriously. But that’s just not his style.

The fact that I need to go home is making me even more nervous. I’ve rarely talked to my uncle since that day I almost got caught, and only when I’m off duty and away from the house. He quit asking me to end my mission to get close to Kirill. In fact, he seemed glad when I told him that I’m part of Kirill’s inner circle now.

So I’ve been slowly working on my initial plan to eventually gain access to the office. I’ve been there a few times alone, but Kirill updated the security, so all the critical files are now protected by his thumbprint. I’m still trying to figure out a way around that issue without triggering his suspicion.

On the other hand, neither Uncle Albert nor I have received any news of my brother. Sometimes, I go to sleep with tears in my eyes, thinking he’s already dead, but most of the time, I refuse to believe it.

Yesterday, I learned that Babushka is ill and that it’s bad. Uncle Albert said he’d take care of her, but I have to go home, just in case. I’d never forgive myself if this were the last chance I had to see her alive and I chose not to go. So I told my uncle that I’ll be returning to Russia in the next few days.

Which is why I came up with this vacation request. That Kirill so readily approved.

He’ll probably send someone to follow me.

But that’s fine. I’ll just have to beat him at his own game this time.

“You don’t have to drive me to the airport,” I tell Kirill, who’s personally driving the car.

He never does that.

His face is unreadable, not that he is readable most days, but it’s been shrouded in more mystery since I announced I needed a vacation.

While he readily agreed, his attitude has changed. He’s spent most of his time running external errands and has often ordered me to stay on house guard for Karina.

We haven’t been alone in a room like he used to make sure we were in the past. And as for his room, he’s only used it to shower and change clothes.

As a result, there’s been no sex for three whole days.

Which hasn’t happened in months.

Kirill has never gone an entire day without pulling me into a dark corner to fuck me until I have trouble standing.

So the recent change of attitude has left me baffled. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat properly thinking about the meaning behind all of this.

Considering his nature, Kirill doesn’t do anything without a purpose. Everyone and everything is part of a greater plan for him.

Maybe he did get tired of me and is now throwing me away.

Except…

If that were the case, why would he personally drive me?

“How did you know I was flying out?” I ask when he doesn’t answer my previous question.

Again, no reply.

My hands tighten in my lap, and a mixture of dark feelings—hurt, pain, and dissatisfaction—start to burst at the seams.

“If you were going to be this silent, you could’ve at least let Maksim or Yuri come along.”

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

I stare out the window to stop myself from being overly emotional and probably saying things I shouldn’t.

By the time the car stops in front of the airport, I’m ready to kill the crazy tension that’s been suffocating me for the past hour.

“I’m off.” I don’t look at him, because that will make me want to hug him or kiss him, and we’re simply not in that type of relationship.

A strong hand grips my wrist, wrenching me back, and I gasp as I turn and face him.

A shadow covers his face, and a weird expression I’ve never seen before takes over his sharp features. It’s a mixture of pain and rage, accentuated by the deathly hold on my wrist.

“What?” I ask in a small voice, scared of speaking any louder.

“Don’t go.” It’s two words, but they’re so charged that they hit me in the chest.

“I…will come back in three days. I promise.”

“Don’t. Go.” It’s an order this time, fused with every ounce of authority Kirill is capable of.

“I have to,” I whisper.

He pulls me over so that I’m half lying on his lap, removes his glasses, and kisses me. No. He doesn’t only kiss me. He devours me, his tongue feasting on mine and his teeth nibbling and biting. He shows me instead of telling me that all my dark thoughts during the previous three days are null and void.

It’s not that he’s lost his desire for me or that he doesn’t want to touch me anymore.

Because it’s still there. I can feel his desperation that mirrors mine, and I can tell, without a doubt, that he probably wants me as much as I want him.

He kisses me with a fervent passion that seems foreign to him. It’s chaotic, unplanned, and doesn’t feel like he even knows what he’s doing. But it’s all him.

When his lips leave mine, I want them back.

No, I need them back, even if my mouth is too swollen and achy.

“Don’t go, Sasha,” he asks this time, softly, pleadingly even.

And I melt.

Every fiber in me breaks, willingly offering itself to this monster.

My monster.

I want to nod, to agree to his plea. I want to throw away that other part of my life and just remain here.

In his arms.

I want to keep looking at his icy eyes and fantasize about softening them one day.

But I can’t. Because this isn’t only about me. This is about my family.

With superhuman effort, I pull away from Kirill’s grasp, still dizzy from the passionate kiss, and shake my head. “I’ll be back in three days.”

His expression doesn’t change, but a muscle tightens in his jaw.

Before I change my mind and actually stay, I grab my backpack and leap out of the car.

The moment I’m in front of the entrance, I chance a look behind me to take my fill of Kirill, but he and the car are gone.

My shoulders hunch as I disappear into the airport. The flight is uncomfortable, not because of the length but due to the thoughts plaguing my mind.

I can’t stop thinking about Kirill’s expression when I refused to stay after he asked me for the third time.

Also…that kiss. It makes my head swim just thinking about it.

When I reach Russia, I change clothes in the airport bathroom so that I look different from when I left. I pull on a hoodie and hide my gun in my waistband. Then I turn my backpack inside out so it’s blue instead of dark orange.

Though Kirill was mad at me when he dropped me off, I can’t be too careful since he could’ve sent someone to follow me.

I even hide my phone in a locker at the airport since I’m sure it has some sort of a tracker on it.

It takes me more time than needed to exit the building, but I leave fully satisfied that no one is tailing me. And if they were, I already lost them.

Still, I take careful routes, hitching rides on some large utility trucks until I get to the faraway village where my family’s located.

I leave the last truck and walk about five miles in the middle of the thick snow and freezing cold, just to make sure no vehicles or people are after me.

By the time I reach the location Uncle Albert gave me, I pause. I expected it to be a village, but there’s only a warehouse.

It’s hidden by a hill, looking way too similar to the warehouse from our last mission here…

This can’t be right.

My senses go on full alert, and I retrieve my gun as my steps become careful. Uncle Albert wouldn’t have brought Babushka here. It’s not a place that’s fit for an old woman or a child like Mike.

There must’ve been some sort of a mistake in the coordinates he gave me—

“Sasha.”

I spin around, and sure enough, my uncle is standing there in the snow. But he looks…different.

My peaceful uncle is dressed in combat boots and has a firearm slung over his shoulder.

And he’s not alone. A few other men appear, all dressed in fighting gear and black masks.

Mercenaries?

“What’s going on?” I ask, my finger still on the trigger. “Where’s Babushka? Who are all these people?”

“All in good time, Sasha.” My uncle wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You did so well.”

“I still haven’t done anything.” I stare at him quizzically.

“Oh, but you have. Here, put this on.” He hands me a mask that’s similar to the ones the others are wearing.

“Uncle Albert, can you tell me what’s going on? I thought I was here for Babushka.”

“Oh, you’ll see her eventually.” He puts the mask on me, then dons his own and hugs me. “I’m so proud of you, Sasha. You know that, right?”

I nod, even though my chest is tightening with every passing second.

He’s saying I did so well, but why do I feel like I made a terrible mistake just by showing up here?

A noise echoes in the air before a snowmobile appears. I pull back from Uncle Albert, thinking this is one of their companions.

“You managed to get him to come alone,” Uncle Albert says in a proud voice.

“Who…” I trail off as the rider of the snowmobile comes into view.

My heart drops. My legs shake, and the world starts spinning.

I would recognize that build anywhere. In a crowd. Or even in snow clothes.

“Uncle Albert,” I whisper. “What…what are you planning?”

“Revenge, my darling. That man was the mastermind behind our family’s massacre.”

I watch in horror as my uncle opens fire on Kirill.