Page 12 of Forced By the Bratva

As we approached the altar, I noticed blood stains on Feliks’ collar.

“He was attacked, and we didn’t hear from him after that.”

I heard the words again repeatedly, and my heart sank into my stomach.

I took a closer look at Feliks, and he was perfectly okay. Not even a strand of his hair was out of place. Initially confused, my eyes widened after a moment, and my heart sank deeper.

He was a monster.

I felt cold shivers run down my spine, and my legs began to wobble as I took the last steps and stopped before him. I looked at my father.

He didn’t seem to have noticed.

Feliks stared down at his collar, then back at me. He noticed that I was staring at the blood, and he smirked.

Feliks had just killed someone before coming here. I was about to marry a killer.

Chapter 8 - Feliks

A deep sigh escaped my lips as I let the last droplets of warm water from the shower hit my body before I turned it off. Bathing had done much to calm my aching nerves.

I straightened my back and watched the water dripping from my body stroll down the white tiles of the bathroom floor toward the drain till it disappeared. There were a few sprinkles of blood mixed with the water, washed away alongside it.

I grabbed my towel and slipped on a pair of gray sweatpants after I’d dried my body.

I stopped in my tracks abruptly as I stepped out of the bathroom.

My bride was sitting awkwardly on her side of the bed.

She was already in her pajamas, shorts, and a thin, tight camisole, which showed enough skin to put any man on the edge.

Her breasts pushed against the thin material like they were begging to be free, her pointed nipples visible through the thin material, like they were trying to poke me in the eye.

Now that I got to take a closer look at her, I noticed features I hadn’t seen when I’d first met her.

Her milky-white skin glittered under the room's bright light, making every nerve in my body itch to touch it.

Her strawberry blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders, doing little to mask her delicate skin. Her green eyes looked up at me and stared deeply into my eyes for a very short period before she looked away.

There was something about her that endeared her to me and, at the same time, made me want to protect her.

The way she sat at the edge of the bed with her thighs pressed tightly together, her hands placed over them. She was nervous. She bit softly on her bottom lip, subtly drawing my attention.

Her lips were full, succulent, the color of crushed berries.

I’d begun to imagine how soft they would feel and what it would feel like running my lips over hers. I couldn’t help but wonder what they would taste like. The thought caused me to run my tongue over my lips and press them together.

Her innocence and nervousness struck a chord, tickling my nerves unimaginably and surprising me. Usually, this would have annoyed me, especially when she pursed her lips, but it did the opposite instead.

I tried to compare her with the girl in the picture that had been shown to me earlier, and I had no idea if what I felt was thankfulness for the fact that the girls were switched.

I was equally sure that whatever hitch I felt in my heart at the sight of her sitting all huddled up was lust over her delicate body. I wanted to run my hands over her skin and feel its softness against my hands. I wanted to sink my teeth into the soft skin on her neck, peeking out from her hair and biting down softly on it so I could hear her whimper.

I wanted to touch her in unimaginable places while locking eyes with her. I wanted her green eyes to look into mine while she begged for mercy as I claimed her.

The thoughts of everything I wanted to do to her body were making my blood rush south, and I felt my erection start to form.

The sound of her shuffling her uneasy feet on the ground brought me out of my long train of thought, and I realized that I’d been standing there for too long, just staring at her. She took my breath away.

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