Page 24 of Brutal Monster (Zhukov Bratva #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

INEZ

I wake to sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains, turning the white sheets to gold. Three days since the wedding. Three days since Adan. Three days in this paradise that feels unreal after the blood and concrete of that warehouse.

The space beside me is empty, sheets rumpled where Vanya slept. I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from last night's activities. My wedding band catches the light, still strange on my finger. A commitment I never thought I'd make.

The balcony doors stand open, ocean breeze carrying salt and heat into our bedroom.

I slip from beneath the sheets, padding naked across polished wood floors to the carved mahogany dresser.

My bikini—white, minimal—waits atop it. Vanya chose it.

He said wanted to see me in something other than black for once.

I slide the fabric over my skin, adjust the thin straps. The mirror reflects a woman I barely recognize—relaxed, almost soft. Dangerous. I can't afford softness, not with Adan's words still echoing. Not with unknown enemies lurking.

"You're thinking too hard."

I turn to find Vanya leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, a cup of coffee in hand. His eyes track over my body with unhurried appreciation.

"Force of habit." I twist my hair into a knot to wring out the sea water. "Any word from home?"

"Nothing that can't wait." He sets his cup down and crosses to me. His hands settle on my waist, thumbs brushing the exposed skin above my bikini bottom. "You promised. Three days without business."

"I promised to try." I lean into him slightly, allowing myself this moment of weakness. His skin is warm against mine, solid and reassuring. Real.

"Try harder." He presses his lips to my shoulder, the touch sending heat spiraling through me. "The water is perfect this morning."

I pull away before I can change my mind about leaving the bedroom. "Race you."

The villa sits on its own private slice of paradise—white sand beach, crystalline water stretching to the horizon. No prying eyes, no security concerns. Just us and the staff who know better than to ask questions about the newly married couple who arrived via private jet in the middle of the night.

I hit the sand running, feeling it shift beneath my feet. The sun beats down, already fierce despite the early hour. Behind me, I hear Vanya's footsteps, deliberately unhurried. He's letting me win. It should irritate me. Instead, I laugh, the sound strange in my throat.

The water welcomes me, cool against sun-heated skin. I dive beneath a wave, letting it carry me before surfacing with a gasp. Salt water streams down my face, and I push wet hair back, treading water as I turn to face the shore.

Vanya stands at the water's edge, watching me. The intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. He sees me—all of me— and still looks at me like that. Like I'm something precious yet dangerous.

I float onto my back, letting the gentle waves rock me. The sky above is impossibly blue and there isn't a single cloud above me. From this angle, I can see our villa, perched on the small hill, with its white walls gleaming in the sunlight. A fortress disguised as a paradise retreat.

"You look like a mermaid." Vanya's voice comes from closer than I expected. He's entered the water silently, moving through it with the same predatory grace he brings to everything.

"Do mermaids carry knives?" I ask, letting my feet drop so I'm vertical again.

His laugh is low, private. "You would." His hands find my waist underwater, drawing me to him. "Even here, you're armed?"

"Always." I wrap my legs around his waist, feel his hands slide down to support my thighs. "Does that bother you?"

"It reassures me." He kisses me, salt water mingling on our lips. "My warrior wife."

The possessiveness in his tone should chafe. Instead, it sends a thrill through me. I am his, as he is mine. A partnership forged in blood and sealed with gold bands.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, echoing his question from the car.

This time, I answer honestly. "Adan."

Vanya's expression doesn't change, but I feel the slight tension in his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I rest my forehead against his, close my eyes. "Not yet."

"When you're ready."

The waves lap around us, creating our own private world. Vanya's hands tighten on my thighs, and I feel him harden against me. Even here, surrounded by beauty, we are who we are—predators playing at being normal.

"We should go back to the villa."

"Why?" His teeth graze my lower lip. "No one can see us here."

The realization hits me hard. He's right. For once in my life, I don't need to watch my back. Don't need to calculate angles and exit strategies. Here, with him, I can simply be.

I kiss him fiercely, tasting salt and sun and Vanya. His hands move up my back, fingers tangling in the strings of my bikini top. One tug and it loosens, floating away on the current.

"That was expensive," I gasp as his mouth moves to my neck.

"I'll buy you another." His voice is rough with want. "A hundred others."

I laugh, the sound swallowed by his kiss. The water supports us, makes me weightless in his arms as he walks us deeper, until the waves lap at his shoulders. My bare breasts press against his chest, the friction delicious against my sensitive skin.

His hands move lower, sliding beneath the thin fabric of my bikini bottom. I arch into his touch, all thoughts of Adan and Emilio and nameless enemies dissolving like mist in the morning sun.

For now, there is only this—Vanya and me, surrounded by endless blue. The rest of the world can wait.

His mouth finds mine again, hungry and demanding. I'm floating, weightless in his arms, my body his to command.

"Let's go back," Vanya says, voice rough with need.

Without waiting for my answer, he sweeps me into his arms. Water cascades from our bodies as he carries me from the surf like some conquest. I should protest—I've never been the type of woman who needs to be carried away like a damsel in distress—but his strength, the possessive grip of his hands, sends heat pooling between my thighs.

"I can walk," I say, but make no move to free myself.

"I know." His eyes, gray as storm clouds, burn into mine. "But I like you in my arms, Inez."

The beach sand is surely hot beneath his feet as he strides toward our private cabana. White gauzy curtains flutter in the ocean breeze, offering the illusion of privacy though we have no need for it. No one comes to this part of the island without our permission.

Vanya carries me through the billowing fabric, into the shade of the thatched roof. The air is cooler here, raising goosebumps across my bare breasts. He lays me on the plush daybed, my skin still damp, salt water soaking into the pristine white sheets.

"You're ruining the linens," I murmur, watching him stand above me.

"Let them burn." He hooks his fingers into his swim shorts and slides them down in one fluid motion. His cock springs free, hard and ready. My mouth waters at the sight.

He kneels on the bed, crawls over me like the predator he is.

His lips find my collarbone, trace a path down to my breast. When his mouth closes over my nipple, I arch off the bed, a gasp tearing from my throat.

His tongue circles the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks shooting through me.

"Vanya," I breathe, threading my fingers through his wet hair.

He moves to my other breast, giving it the same torturous attention while his hand slides down my stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of my bikini bottom. With a sharp tug, the thin fabric tears away.

"That's two you owe me," I say, but my voice breaks as his fingers find me, already slick and ready.

"Worth every penny." His thumb circles my clit, and my hips buck involuntarily. "Look at you, so wet for me."

In response, I reach between us, wrap my hand around his length. His breath hisses through clenched teeth as I stroke him, feeling him throb against my palm.

"Inside me," I demand. "Now."

For once, he doesn't tease, doesn't make me beg. He positions himself at my entrance, locks eyes with me as he pushes forward in one smooth thrust. The sensation of him filling me tears a cry from my throat, my body stretching to accommodate him.

"Fuck," he groans, holding still for a moment. "You feel like heaven."

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He begins to move, setting a rhythm that's neither gentle nor punishing—just perfect. Each thrust drives me higher, the drag of his cock against my walls sending jolts of pleasure through my core.

Outside our sanctuary, waves crash against the shore. Inside, there's only our breathing, the slick sound of our bodies joining, the occasional creak of the bed beneath us. His mouth finds mine again, swallowing my moans as he picks up the pace.

"Mine," he growls against my lips. "Say it."

"Yours," I gasp, the word torn from somewhere deep inside me. "And you're mine."

His rhythm falters at my words, his control slipping. Good. I want him undone, want to see the feared Bratva captain lose himself in me completely.

I flip us suddenly, using a move that would make my combat instructors proud. Now I'm on top, straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside me. Surprise flashes across his face, quickly replaced by heat as I begin to ride him.

"My warrior wife," he says, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.

I plant my palms on his chest, feel his heart thundering beneath my fingers. Power surges through me—not the power of empire or bloodshed, but something more primal. Here, I control his pleasure. Here, I make him vulnerable.

His thumb finds my clit again, circling in time with my movements. The dual sensation is almost too much. I throw my head back, feel my release building, coiling tight in my core.

"Come for me, Inez," Vanya commands, voice strained. "Let me see my wife fall apart."

As if my body obeys him alone, the tension snaps. My orgasm crashes through me in waves, muscles clenching around him as I cry out his name. He follows me over the edge, thrusting up hard as he empties himself inside me, a string of Russian curses falling from his lips.

I collapse in his embrace, boneless and sated. His arms envelop me, holding me close as our breathing slows. And we lie together, connected in the most intimate way possible.

"I could stay here forever," I murmur against his skin, the words escaping before I can stop them.

His hand strokes my back, traces the curve of my spine. "Then let's stay."

I lift my head to look at him, searching for signs he's joking. His expression is serious but his eyes are soft in a way few people ever see.

"We have empires to run," I remind him.

"Empires can wait." He tucks a strand of damp hair behind my ear. "This—us—can't."

Something tightens in my chest, unfamiliar and frightening. Is this what happiness feels like? This fragile, tenuous thing I'm afraid to examine too closely?

"Three more days," I find myself saying. "Just three more."

His smile is slow, satisfied. "I'll take it." He shifts, still inside me, sending aftershocks of pleasure through my oversensitive body. "And I'll spend every minute convincing you to extend our stay."

I kiss him to hide my own smile, to conceal how easily I might be convinced. Three more days of paradise before we return to our world of shadows. Three more days to pretend we're just a man and woman in love, not rulers of criminal empires.

My phone buzzes from somewhere in the cabana—the emergency line, the only one I haven't silenced. Vanya's expression darkens.

"Ignore it," he says.

But we both know I can't. Not that line. Not when Adan's warnings still echo in my head.

Paradise, it seems, has found its snake.