Page 12 of Eternal

DAMIR

“Do I Wanna Know” by Arctic Monkeys

Present

L ev is the typical traitor. Full of self-doubt and insecurity about his fabricated family.

It’s almost amusing how weak he is, not truly intimidating but somehow trusted.

That’s all I wanted and needed. Someone almost invisible. Annoying .

The training basement in the Bratva’s complex here in Vegas is more impressive than I expected. I’ve seen it from a distance while stalking my target but being inside now feels different. There are three buildings: one for sparring, one for gunfire training, and another for martial arts.

Currently, I’m in the sparring room with Lev, who’s rambling about the things I need to know to make my cover believable. He doesn’t realize how little he knows about me. He doesn’t know I have ties to the Bratva in Russia or that I’ve spent time in a cell because of it.

Missions can be time-consuming, but right now, I’m not interested in his chatter. I’m waiting for her to arrive.

She runs like clockwork. And I know her schedule perfectly to know that in less than five minutes, she’ll be here.

After a few moments, I sense a presence, a gaze that pulls me in. Turning around, I see her: sweet Voron, her curly hair pulled into a messy bun, clad in a baggy sweatshirt and a sports bra. Tattoos. Lots of them. Snaking across her tan skin.

Seeing them this close feels intoxicating; I can’t help but grin.

Being in the same room as her is fascinating.

She’s utterly unconcerned with who’s watching. She strides straight toward Katarina, who’s sitting on a bench as if she was waiting for her, focused on her laptop. When she catches sight of Voron, a genuine smile lights up her face. They share a brief hug, and then she begins to stretch.

Same sequence, same rhythm.

One leg forward, slow bend at the waist. Her spine ripples poetically as she folds forward again, hands grazing the floor with an ease that makes my throat tighten.

She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even know I’m watching, doesn't even know I fucking exist.

She shifts again, twisting at the waist, arms over her head. Elegant almost.

Her breath is controlled, and I keep watching, nearly mirroring each inhale, each exhale as if my body can’t help but follow hers.

The way her lips part to take it in. Like even the air is adjusting to her rhythm.

I don’t blink. I don’t move.

I simply take it all in, like I’m starving, and she doesn’t even know she’s feeding me.

I can’t tear my gaze away, but I force myself to focus on something else.

I step into the ring with Lev for a sparring session.

I throw a few punches, warming up. Lev’s weak attempts at blocking are laughable, and I easily sidestep him, delivering a strong jab to his side that sends him stumbling back.

“I’m bored” I say, grinning as I duck under his next swing.

He rolls his eyes, panting heavily and gets out of the ring. “Fuck man, this one hurt.”

I take a break, grabbing a bottle of water from the side. The cool liquid refreshes me, and I take a moment to catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my brow.

When I turn back to the ring, my heart leaps into my throat.

Voron is there, slipping on her gloves with fierce determination in her eyes, and the sight is splendid. I can’t help but chuckle at the irony.

That’s how we’re going to meet? In violence and fighting each other?

Our eyes collide, and a rush of adrenaline hits me like a drug. I’ve been stalking her, craving this moment where I could see those eyes closer, and now that I finally have her in my sights, I can’t wait to push her, to see how far I can take her before she breaks.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.

Exactly like I imagined it to taste. Deadly, like her. Soft, but lower than I thought, it had a small rasp to it.

Her eyes narrow as she steps into the ring, ready for a fight. “Are you scared to fight a woman?”

She challenges me again.

I lean against the ropes, a smirk creeping onto my face. “I’m curious to see how hard you can hit.”

She steps closer, eyes locked on mine, and my heart races. “Perfect, then. Let me show you,” she replies.

We begin to circle each other, calculating every possibility.

The moment I throw my first punch, it’s as if a dam has broken.

I land a jab to her ribs, and the sound of gloves hitting flesh reverberates in the ring.

She grunts but recovers quickly, her eyes sparking with fury.

“Nice try,” she spits, and before I can react, she retaliates with a swift kick to my thigh that sends a sharp pain shooting through my lower body.

I stagger back but quickly regain my footing. “You’re stronger than you look,” I mutter.

“Looks can be deceiving,” she quips, her voice low and clear. We close the distance, our bodies colliding again.

I throw a hard uppercut, catching her chin. But she doesn’t hesitate. She lunges, shoulder slamming into my chest, and I’m driven back, crashing against the padded wall. The impact is brutal, the kind that would knock the breath out of most, but it only makes me want more.

Adrenaline spikes through me as I push off the wall, tasting the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. I definitely want more.

Fucking masochist that I am. Of course I’d want more.

“Oh no, did it hurt too much?” she asks, breathless but smiling.

She lunges at me again, fists flying with an intensity that would make any sane man back off. But sanity isn’t part of this game, not for either of us, I think.

The people around us are watching carefully, their eyes wide as they observe this fierce woman keep pace with me.

They don’t get it, they’re too stupid. She’s pure chaos, and the size difference? Laughable .

She’s a chaotic weapon of speed and strength, and she doesn’t shy away from pain; she embraces it like it’s her lover. And that’s what makes her this deadly.

When you’re not scared of getting hurt, pain blends in with everything else. It doesn’t register anymore, and she knows it, perfectly.

Every time her fist connects with my chest or face, I feel it hit me, low, hot, and all wrong, like my body lights up, pain feels so close to pleasure.

The fire in her eyes makes her greenish brown eye almost blaze, the blue one darkening in response. The way her lips part as she gasps for air… she looks fuckable.

Really fucking fuckable.

She catches me off guard with a swift kick to my face. I laugh; the sound is rough. “Not bad.” I wipe the blood from my lip, tasting it, relishing the sting, the pain.

“You take it like a champ,” she smiles, and I want to strangle her.

I pull her closer, our bodies crashing together with a force that sends us both to the ground. The floor hits hard, and the impact rattles through me. I can feel her warmth against me, the sweat mingling with blood a while we struggle for dominance.

It’s violent, raw, and I can’t get enough, I could do this all day.

Her knee digs into my thigh beneath my dick, and if she moves just a bit, she’ll see the effect she has on me, and we don’t even know each other yet, so I shift, leveraging my weight against her.

“I don’t do that on the first date,” I growl, a chuckle slipping through my lips as I force her back, our breaths mingling, hot and heavy in the small space between us.

She flashes a wicked grin, her eyes more ablaze than before. “Oh, my bad,” she purrs. Before I can react, she twists sharply, landing a solid punch to my ribs that makes me grunt in surprise.

Fucking hell.

Is she at her full potential?

No, she’s not… she’s simply training.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I taunt, but there’s a breathlessness to my words as we roll on the floor.

This fight has me high, but it’s more than just the rush. She’s fucking fighting back. She’s holding her own against me, and it’s insane. No one does that, no one stands their ground like this with me.

We’re struggling, our faces inches apart, I can see the determination in her eyes, and it fuels my obsession. At this moment, I realize I want more than this fight. I want to study her. Layer by layer. Movement by movement.

With one final push, I manage to pin her against the ground, my body pressing down on hers. I can feel the heat radiating from her, the strength in her muscles as she fights against me. “You’re strong,” I admit, breathless and exhilarated. “But not more than me,” I smile, leaning closer to her ear.

But before I can savor the moment, she bucks beneath me, twisting our positions, and suddenly, it’s her knee against my thigh again, her fists raised, ready to strike once more. “I can keep this up all night,” she breathes, a daring grin spreading across her face.

My hand instinctively finds her hips, pinning her close to me, and I can’t help but breathe heavily from the sensation of her body against mine. Why the hell is her confidence turning me on? What the fuck is she doing to me?

Just as we reach a fever pitch, Katarina, her friend, strides in, her voice slicing between us. “Okay, Visha ! I need you for this. Come on!”

Visha… Poison .

The moment is almost blurry as I look down, realizing we’re still locked together on the mat, bodies pressed tight, breaths heavy and deliberate. She’s on top, and the blood smeared across our skin like a twisted sort of masterpiece.

God, I want her closer. Why do I want her closer? I hate when people are close to me.

“Looks like our fun’s over,” I murmur, my voice low. And I study her face. The way that scar looks redder now after the fight, following the blush on her cheeks and chest. The way her pupils dilated in those witchy eyes.

And the way her lips are curving creates these dimples around each small line of her mouth.

Fucking beautiful. My target is so beautiful.

“Been a while since anyone pushed me like this.”

My pulse quickens at her words.

When we rise, I can’t help but notice the sheen of sweat on her olive skin, glistening in the cozy light of the gym, accentuating every curve that begs to be studied too.

My gaze lingers on the tattoos inked across her arms, across her back, even on her chest. She has tattoos everywhere… interesting.

“Take care of that lip, better not get infected, it would ruin your pretty face,” she says, and I can’t help the smirk that creeps onto my face. I instinctively touch my split lip, and the blood is still on the surface.

Fuck, she got me.

I want to pin her down again, to feel her body beneath mine, to push her limits until she gasps, until her breath hitches in that intoxicating way she did earlier.

My thoughts spiral, darker, more twisted, and I can’t do that. Because I was sent to kill her. I can’t have fun while planning her downfall. Or can I?

She’s standing, her back at me, and I’m struck by the way her curly hair falls around her shoulders, when she takes off her bun. Wild and untamed. Lots of it.

When she turns to leave, my eyes track her every move, the sway of her hips, her long fingers tracing down her arms as if making sure she’s fine.

I want to chase her, to see if she’ll hold up with me again, to see how far we can go together.

She glances back, catching me staring, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Fuck me.

I can feel the heat pooling low in my gut, I want to taste that defiance, to see if I can break through her bravado and uncover the woman beneath the warrior.

But she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving me craving the excitement she brings.

I can’t wait to meet my sweet target again.

I can’t wait for the next round.