Page 8 of BRATVA'S Killer Bride
The voice on the other end grunts agreement, promising to arrange it, and I hang up, slipping the phone into my pocket. Sienna looks up, her eyes sharp, questioning, and I nod.
“It’s set. We’ll meet them at a diner off the highway, noon tomorrow.”
We climb back upstairs, the trapdoor thudding shut behind us, and the cabin feels smaller now, the walls pressing in with theweight of what’s coming. I lead her to the kitchen, pulling out a map from a drawer to mark the meeting spot, a rundown joint called Marty’s that’s far enough from the city to avoid prying eyes.
“Your cousins will listen,” I tell her, spreading the map across the counter where we’d lost ourselves earlier. “They’re not idiots. They’ll know your father’s full of shit once we lay it out. Andrey’s history, the deal, your self-defense.”
She leans over the map, her hair brushing my arm, and I feel that pull again, the heat of her presence threatening to derail my focus. I point to the diner’s location, tracing the route we’ll take, but my eyes keep drifting to her lips, the curve of her neck, the way my flannel hangs loose on her frame, hinting at the body I’ve already claimed.
She catches me staring, her lips twitching into a small, knowing smile, and the air shifts, charged with that same electric hunger from before.
“You’re supposed to be planning,” she murmurs, but her voice is low, teasing, and she steps closer, her fingers brushing my wrist. My pulse kicks up, and I’m done pretending I can focus on maps when she’s this close. I turn, pinning her against the counter, my hands framing her face as I kiss her hard, tasting the defiance and desire that’s become my addiction.
I deepen the kiss, Sienna's taste flooding my senses, sweet and fierce, pulling me under like a riptide I don’t want to fight. Her nails scrape my skin through my Tee, sending sparks down my spine. I can’t stay here in the kitchen, not with the need clawing at me to have her fully, to lay her out and worship every inch. I lift her off her feet in one swift motion, her legs wrapping around my waist as she gasps into my mouth, her body molding to mine like she belongs against me, always.
The cabin's dim light blurs as I carry her down the short hallway, kicking open the bedroom door with my foot, the hinges creaking in protest. The room is simple, a king-sized bed dominating the space, sheets smooth from disuse. The air cooler here, scented with wood and dust, but it doesn’t matter; all I see is her, all I feel is the heat building between us.
I lower her onto the bed, her back hitting the mattress with a soft thud, and she pulls me down with her, our bodies tangling in a mess of limbs and urgency. Her fingers twist in the fabric of my T-shirt before she pulls it up and over my head, exposing my chest to the chill air. Her touch is fire, tracing the lines of my tattoos, the scars from old fights. I tug the flannel open, buttons popping free, revealing the torn remnants of her dress beneath. I don’t hesitate, ripping the fabric away until she is bare before me, her skin flushed, marked by my earlier claims.
She arches up, her breasts pressing against me, and I capture one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard. My tongue swirls as she moans, the sound raw and needy, vibrating through my bones. My hand slides down her body, fingers dipping between her thighs, finding her already wet and slick with want. I stroke her slowly, teasing, building the tension until she is writhing beneath me, her hips bucking against my palm.
She reaches for my belt, her movements frantic, undoing it with a clink that echoes in the quiet room. I help her shove my jeans down, kicking them off as I settle between her legs. Her eyes lock on mine, dark and heavy, filled with the same hunger that is consuming me. I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock brushing through her folds, teasing until she whispers my name like a plea.
I thrust in deep, filling her completely, and she cries out, her nails digging into my back and drawing blood that only heightens the pleasure. I move with a rhythm that is punishing,each stroke claiming her, binding her to me in this shadowed room where the world outside fades to nothing. Her walls clench around me, and I growl against her neck, nipping the skin there, leaving marks that tell everyone who sees that she is mine. The bed creaks under us, the headboard thumping against the wall, but I don’t care; all that exists is her, this connection forged in blood, and I am lost in it, pushing us both toward the edge with every desperate thrust.
Sienna
I’m drowning in Daniil’s touch, his body pinning me to the bed, the weight of him both grounding and consuming as he moves inside me with a rhythm that’s relentless. Each thrust steals my breath.
The sheets tangle beneath us, cool against my fevered skin, but his heat is all I feel, his lips grazing my neck, leaving bites that sting and soothe in equal measure. My nails rake down his back, tracing the hard lines of muscle, the scars that tell stories I want to learn. He growls low, the sound vibrating through me, igniting a fire that burns hotter with every stroke.
The bedroom’s dim, the faint glow from the lamp casting shadows that dance across his tattoos, making him look like a warrior carved from darkness as he claims me. My legs wrap tighter around his hips, pulling him deeper, and I moan his name, the sound raw and desperate, swallowed by the creak of the bed and the thud of the headboard against the wall.
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit, circling with a precision that makes my vision blur, and I arch up, my breasts pressing against his chest, the friction of his skin against my sensitive nipples sending sparks through my core. I’m lost in him, in the way he fills me completely, stretching me until there’s nothing left but us. A connection that’s as much defiance as desire.
My father’s betrayal, Andrey’s allies, the meeting with my cousins tomorrow, all of it fades, burned away by the intensity of his gaze. Those gray eyes locked on mine, seeing every part of me, the killer, the woman, the one who’s his. I tug at his hair, pulling his mouth to mine, and our kiss is a clash of tongues and teeth, messy and perfect, my body trembling as the pressure builds, coiling tight in my belly, ready to snap.
He shifts his angle, hitting a spot that makes me cry out, my walls clenching around him, and I’m teetering on the edge, every nerve alight with need. His fingers press harder, faster, and I’m falling, my orgasm crashing through me like a wave, tearing a scream from my throat as my body pulses around him. Wave after wave of pleasure drowns out the world.
He doesn’t stop. He drives into me with a ferocity that feels like a vow, and I feel him tense. His breath hitching as he follows me over, his release spilling inside me, hot and claiming, his groan rough against my ear.
We collapse together, panting and slick with sweat, our bodies still entwined as the aftershocks ripple through us. I cling to him, my heart pounding, knowing this moment’s stolen, but in this shadowed bedroom, with his arms around me, I’m ready to fight for every second of it, for us, for the future we’re shaping.
The sun dips low beyond the cabin's window, painting the room in hues of burnt orange and deepening shadow. I lie tangled in the sheets beside Daniil while our hearts slow to a shared rhythm. His arm drapes over my waist, heavy and possessive, his breath warm against my shoulder as we stare at the fading light filtering through the trees.
The air carries the faint chill of evening, mingling with the musk of us, and I trace lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths, the faint scars under my fingertips that whisper of battles fought long before me. Exhaustion tugs at myedges, but it's a sweet ache, born from the fire we stoked, and in this quiet, I feel a fragile peace settle. Like the world outside has paused just for us.
He shifts slightly, his gray eyes meeting mine in the dimming glow, and there's a softness there amid the storm, a vulnerability that makes my chest tighten.
"You should rest," he murmurs, his voice rough, but his hand slides up my back, pulling me closer. Thoughts of tomorrow creep in, the meeting with my cousins, my father's lies hanging like a noose. But here, in his arms, they feel distant and conquerable. His fingers weave through my hair, gentle now, and I close my eyes, letting the sunset bleed into night. Whatever comes, we'll face it together, bound by this dark, unbreakable thread we've woven.
Sleep pulls at me, but I fight it just a little, wanting to hold onto this moment, this haven where I'm not the betrayed daughter or the killer bride, but simply his. The stars begin to prick the sky beyond the window, indifferent witnesses to our sins. I let myself drift, dreams laced with fire and blood, but anchored by the man who pulled me from the abyss.
Daniil
She stirs slightly as I move from beside her. She looks peaceful, and I hate to wake her knowing what she has to face today.
The Bratva is not a court of law. It’s negotiation and deals and debts.
