Page 23 of Claimed By the Masked BRATVA
“You think I’d let you go back to begging for grants and hiding in a lab while vultures circle?” My voice hardens. “No. You’re mine. Your work is mine. Your passion is mine. And I’ll protect it all.”
She blinks rapidly, overwhelmed. “Sebastian, that’s not how science works—”
“It is now.”
Her laugh is shaky, torn between disbelief and awe. “You’re impossible.”
I smirk, leaning across the table, capturing her chin between my fingers. “No. I’m inevitable.”
I kiss her, deep and certain, until her logic crumbles again. When I pull back, her lips are swollen, her eyes dazed. Perfect.
The day passes in fragments. She explores the house, curiosity pulling her from room to room, while I shadow her, never letting her stray far. She touches everything, studies everything, and I watch with a hunger that has nothing to do with sex.
This woman, this scientist with soft fingertips and brilliance in her eyes, has no idea how dangerous she is. Not to herself. To me.
Because she’s already changed the way I see the world.
And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take her away.
That night, as the city lights flicker to life beyond the glass walls, I stand with her at the window. She leans into me, her head resting on my chest, her gaze distant.
“They’ll talk about us, won’t they?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.”
“Because of the masquerade?”
“Because of everything.” I press a kiss to her hair. “You stood out. They noticed. But it doesn’t matter. They’ll learn quickly enough that you’re untouchable.”
Her voice trembles. “And if they don’t?”
“Then they die.”
She shivers, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at me, her eyes shining. “You’d really do that? For me?”
I cup her face in both hands, holding her steady, making sure she feels the weight of my words. “For you, Caitlyn, I’d burn this city to ash.”
Tears well in her eyes, but her smile is soft, trembling. “Then I guess I’m not alone anymore.”
“No,” I vow, kissing her deeply, sealing the promise in her mouth, her breath, her body. “Never again.”
I lift her into my arms, carrying her back to our bed. She clings to me, laughing softly, tears still on her cheeks. I lay her down, spreading her thighs, sliding into her with a groan that shakes me to my bones.
She gasps, wrapping around me, whispering my name like a prayer.
And as I take her again, slow and consuming, I know this isn’t an ending.
It’s the beginning of the only life that matters.
Ours.
Forever.
Caitlyn
If someone had told me a week ago that my life would unravel like this, I would have laughed in their face.
A week ago, I was elbow-deep in potting soil, cataloguing growth rates, worrying about grant proposals and whether my sister was eating enough vegetables. I was a woman defined by reason, by order, by the slow and careful work of coaxing orchids into bloom.
