Page 7 of My Bratva Stalker

She swallows hard. Nods. “Viktor.”

Better. Much better. The sound of my name in her sweet voice makes my cock twitch.

She exhales sharply. “I should probably—”

I step closer. She freezes. Her breath catches. And that’s when I see it. That flicker of something in her eyes. Something she doesn’t want to be there. Something she doesn’t want me to notice. Attraction. Raw. Undeniable. Fucking burning.

Marie wants me. She fucking wantsme. The realization hits me so hard my vision blurs with need.

All this time. All those months I spent tracking her, watching her, following her every fucking move, imagining every way I’d break her—She’s been feeling it, too. She just didn’t know what to name it. She craved me. She was just too innocent to understand it. But I do.

And now, she’s mine to take.

“I’ll show you to your room,” I say, my voice low, rough, filthy with possession.

She hesitates for half a second. Then nods.

Good girl.

I walk ahead, listening to her breathing as she follows. It’s uneven. Shaky. But not just with fear.

I open the door. She steps inside.

The bedroom is massive. The bed is even bigger. She moves toward it, running her fingers over the Egyptian cotton sheets, and something dark and primal coils in my gut.

I should have fucked her in that apartment. Should have waited for her to fall asleep and taken her there. Should have pressed my mouth to the spot between her thighs, tasted her before she even knew she was awake. She should already be ruined. Instead, she stands here, looking up at me with her big brown eyes, still completely unaware of what she’s walked into.

She turns, swallows hard. “I… really appreciate this, Viktor.”

The way she says my name. Fuck. My hands clench at my sides, jaw tight. I fucking need to hear it again. Softer this time. Breathless. Screamed.

She exhales, fingers still gripping the strap of her bag.

“I think I’ll, um… get settled,” she says. “It’s been a long night.”

I take another step. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t run.

I tilt my head. “You’ll be safe here, printsessa.”

Marie’s eyes widen at the endearment, but she just nods. “I know.”

I reach out, trace my fingers over her wrist. She shivers. But doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t fight it.

She already knows. She just can’t admit it yet. That the safest place she’s ever been is right here. With me. And that no one—not even herself—will ever take her from me.

Marie

I wake up gasping.

My chest is tight, my fingers clenched around the sheets, my body drenched in sweat.

The dream—no, the nightmare—lingers, wrapping around me like a vice.

A whisper in my ear. A shadow moving in the dark. Breath on my skin.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

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