Page 28 of Chased & Bred by the BRATVA
I close my eyes, the weight of her anchoring me in a way that doesn’t feel like a burden. It feels like gravity. Like inevitability.
Rachel
The morning sun filters through the tall windows, soft and golden. It warms the sheets, the floor, the edges of my face. But nothing feels as warm as the man lying beside me.
Nikolai’s arm is draped across my waist, possessive even in sleep. His chest rises and falls in slow, steady rhythm. He looks younger when he’s resting. Less terrifying. Almost peaceful. But I know better now. I know what those hands are capable of.
And I still feel safe here.
I run my fingers lightly over his forearm, tracing the veins, the scars, the stories I haven’t heard yet. I don’t want to wake him, but I want to look at him without pretending. Without pretending I’m not completely changed.
He shifts. A low hum in his throat. Then, slowly, his eyes open, those wolfish blues locking on me.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
He studies me like he’s not sure I’m real. Then his hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheek. “Thought you might have tried to leave me in the night.”
I smile. “There’s no where else I wanted to be.”
He narrows his eyes, something unreadable passing through them. “That first night... Rachel, you were—”
I know what he’s saying.
“I was a virgin,” I say softly.
His jaw ticks. “You should’ve told me.”
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t want it to be a conversation. I didn’t want it to be treated like some delicate glass thing. I wanted you. All of you. The real you and the raw me.”
He stares at me for a long beat, searching for hesitation in my eyes. I let him. I want him to see the truth.
“When I saw you in the woods,” I continue, voice barely above a whisper, “something inside me just... clicked. It didn’t feel scary. It didn’t feel wrong. I know that sounds insane, considering I’d just escaped a pair of creeps and was literally hiding in the trees, but when I looked up and saw you, I just, I don’t know, I just knew.”
“You knew what?” he asks.
“That I wanted to run for you. Not from you. That if it was only going to be one night in my whole life where I gave myself to someone... I wanted it to be that night. With you.”
His fingers tense against my skin. His expression doesn’t soften, it sharpens. There’s hunger in his gaze now. Hunger and something that looks a lot like worship.
“I didn’t deserve that,” he mutters.
“I wanted it. I gave it.”
We fall into silence. He pulls me closer, tucking me against him like he’s afraid I’ll evaporate if the sunlight touches me. But I’m not going anywhere.
Not because I’m trapped. But because I don’t want to go back.
That thought startles me. I roll onto my back, eyes fixed on the ornate ceiling.
I haven’t thought about returning home. To work. To my apartment, to my job, to the city... Not once since arriving.There’s a vague itch when I think about it now, like remembering a place that never really fit me. Responsibilities that don’t feel like they should be mine.
None of my friends have texted. No calls. No frantic search. They probably just assumed I’d gone off with someone. They wouldn’t care enough to follow up. Not properly.
I’d called off work yesterday, when my phone had charged enough for me to use. Left a voicemail, made it sound like food poisoning. It was too easy. No one has called back to check. They’ll all be turning up for work by now and I’m sure none of them have even realised I’m not there.
A life so forgettable it slipped right off me.
But here, in this house, in this bed, I feel seen. Claimed. A little unhinged maybe, but for once in my life,wanted.
