Page 14 of My Bratva Dom

His eyes flick to her, and his features soften a bit as he gives her a nod.

Then his gaze cuts to me. And something dark flares in his icy blue eyes. His cut jaw clenching. Fuck, he’s hot. Scary, as all get-out, but panty-melting.

“Good. Night,” Aslan repeats, but this time it sounds more like a warning.

I open my mouth, having no clue what I’m about to say, but before I can speak, he’s gone.

* * *

Marie goes to the couch, flopping down on it with a sigh. I hover by the door, worrying my bottom lip.

Marie’s eyes are half-lidded. It’s late, and she must be tired from missing her husband and all my shit with Aslan.

I want to talk to her about the way he grabbed me earlier. How his fingers wrapped into my hair like he was barely holding himself back. And everything else that happened… I want to tell her about how I can’t decide if I want to slap him or kiss him. But I can’t.

Instead, I say. “I don’t think Aslan likes me.”

Marie yawns but her voice is soft when she replies, “he doesn’t really like anyone. Don’t take it personally.”

Yeah. That’s the problem. I can’t help taking everything that man does, and doesn’t do, way too personally…

* * *

Later, when I’m alone in my room, laying flat on my bed, in the dark, I can’t stop thinking about everything that went on tonight. I keep replaying it all, the club, the car, the way his fingers dug into my flesh like he wanted to mark me.

He’s cold, impossible to read, all hard edges and heavy silence. But he also makes me feel good. So fucking good… I should let it go. I should forget all about this impossible man and focus on trying to figure out what I’m gonna do with my life. But I can’t stop thinking about the way his gaze burns me like a brand. How his big hands feel all over me, inside me… I bury my face in my pillow and groan.

Twelve

Aslan

I tell myself I’m not looking for her. That I’m pacing the house because it’s my job, because Viktor trusted me to keep his wife and her sister safe while he’s gone. But my steps keep drifting toward the back hallway. To the library. Where I know Tina has been hauling up.

She’s curled up in an oversized leather armchair, one bare leg tucked under her, the other one stretched full and soft in the dim glow of the reading lamp.

She’s got a book in her hands and her gaze flicks up when I step into the doorway. The corner of her lips quirking up slightly like she’s been expecting me. Waiting.

“You stalking me, big guy?” she teases, even though her tone is hesitant.

Fucking brat. Even after what happened last night.

I step inside, pushing the door shut behind me.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around alone,” I growl.

Her smile widens. Smug and playful, now. Her assurance, back. So fucking pretty that my balls ache.

“I thought this place was locked up tight?”

“It is.”

“Then what’s the problem, Stalker?”

You are.

I don’t answer. Just stand there, watching her. The way her bare leg flexes when she shifts in the chair, her lush thighs pressing together like she’s already thinking about what I’d do to her if she gave me even half a chance.

I can smell her from here. All woman and intoxicating perfume. Sweet and warm. Her scent crawling under my skin. Driving me fucking crazy.

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