Page 5 of Delicious Prey

Stephanie gives my hand another squeeze before standing and waiting for me to do the same. She gives me one last encouraging smile and then leads the way into the packed courtroom. I keep my head down, avoiding everyone and wishing like hell I could’ve brought Peanut with me. When I’m called up, I go on shaky legs and then swear that I’ll tell the truth. It is the truth, I tell myself. Kirill Chernikov killed my dad, and he’s going to pay for it. He’s a known killer, and he was fucking there, one goddamn street over from our house. With my resolve firmly in place, I finally raise my eyes to face the monster who ruined my life.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but his smug face isn’t it. He’s staring right at me, those cold, grey eyes piercing right through me while a smirk tugs at his full lips. The man is huge. His body seeming way too big for the chair he’s in. I found out from the police that he’s six-five, and he looks every inch of it today. His suit has to be bespoke. There’s no way in fuck that came off a rack. It’s molded to him perfectly and obviously made to his exact measurements.

The more I look, the more he confuses me. If someone pointed him out to me and told me he was a successful owner of some company, I wouldn’t bat an eye. He exudes power and authority, like he’s a man who’s just used to being obeyed and getting what he wants. But he’s not some arrogant CEO, he’s a fucking hitman for a powerful, dangerous Bratva. The cruelty that lives within him feels like it’s right below the surface, making me wonder if I ran over to him and raked my nails across his chiseled jaw, would I let it out? Would that tear in the skin expose him for the monster he is?

I break eye contact first, and I don’t have to see him to know that his smirk has grown. I can feel it from where I’m sitting. After answering a million questions about the night my dad was shot, I’m finally asked the one that I’ve been dreading.

“Can you identify the man who shot your father?” my lawyer asks.

Using every ounce of courage I possess, I meet Kirill’s eyes yet again and point my finger at him. “It was him,” I say, my voice no longer shaky. It’s strong as it echoes through the courtroom. “He shot my dad.” Before I look away, Kirill winks at me.

Turns out Stephanie was wrong. After Kirill was sentenced to life in prison, I didn’t feel better. I still have nightmares. I still wake up screaming, and my life is still a stressful mess of working at a job I never wanted and worrying about bills that I never should’ve had to pay. I went from being an excited, somewhat carefree eighteen-year-old to being an adult who’s stuck in a life I never wanted. I didn’t think it could get any worse, but then the first letter arrived six months later. I found it tucked under a rock right outside my front door.

My dear, sweet Lydia,

Prison isn’t all that bad. It’s given me a lot of time to think, and you’re what occupies my thoughts. I’m not going to lie. I was very angry at you for a long time. My first six months here were spent thinking about how badly I wanted to make you pay for what you’ve done, but the more I tried to hate you, the less I did.

I’m not sure what you’ve done to me, zaika. I confess that I’ve become a bit obsessed. I keep seeing your beautiful face, exactly how you looked when you pointed me out to the courtroom. So scared, yet so strong and determined to do what you thought was right. God, I’m hard just thinking about it. I wish I could’ve crossed the distance between us and traced a line along your neck with my lips, breathing in the scent of you before running my tongue along your skin. I’d give anything to feel the rapid beat of your pulse against my lips. One day, zaika.

First, I need to explain to you what’s going to happen. I’m stuck in prison for now, but I won’t be staying here forever. I’ll get out, and when I do, I’m coming for you, sweetheart. You put the wrong man in prison, and I want to know why. I have someone watching you, so don’t go getting any ideas about alerting the police to my letters. I will continue to write them, and you will write me back. Put the letters under the rock, just like how you found this one, and one of my men will make sure I get it. If you tell the police, it won’t change anything. It will just really piss me the fuck off, and trust me when I say you don’t want to do that.

One more thing before I stop. You are not allowed to date anyone. You are not allowed to fuck anyone. You are not allowed to touch anyone. You are mine, Lydia, and I don’t fucking share. Break my rules, and it will end in blood. That is the only warning you will get about this. I expect complete obedience in this and in all things. No one touches you but me.

Write me back, zaika. I want to know everything about you, so I better not just get two sentences from you. I’m bored, and all my time is spent thinking about you. I need something more substantial than the little information I have. I want to know you, the real you.

Talk to you soon, sweetheart.

Kirill

P.S. Pet Peanut for me.

Chapter 3

Kirill

The first letter I receive from Lydia leaves a lot to be desired. My little bunny, my zaika, has already decided to disobey me. My hand aches with the need to spank her perky ass, but her punishment will have to wait. A lot of things will have to wait. I pace the small, solitary cell they have me in and read her letter yet again.

Kirill,

Stop writing me. You’re a fucking psycho, and you killed my dad. I have nothing to say to you.

Lydia

P.S. Fuck off.

I’m pissed, but it doesn’t stop me from bringing the letter to my face and trying like hell to breathe in some hint of her scent. I swear I catch a soft whiff of jasmine, but that might just be my imagination. I like her spunk, not that I’ll ever admit that to her, but she needs to learn that I’m not a man to disobey. She sent me to prison. She should be damn grateful I haven’t put a hit out on her ass. The first six months of being here were a blur of nothing but pure rage. I’d tried so hard to hate Lydia and spent most of my time devising just how I was going to make her pay for putting me in here, but all the scenarios ended with me tying her to the bed while I spanked her bare ass and she begged me to fuck her. It was infuriating to say the least. The more I learned about her, the more intrigued I became. It’s safe to say I’m a bit obsessed.

Sitting down, I grab a pen and some paper and remind myself that this isn’t going to happen overnight. I’m a patient man, and I have nothing but time. My zaika will learn to love me. She doesn’t have a choice. First I write a brief note to Vadim, the man now in charge of keeping a close eye on Lydia, instructing him to gently convince her that writing me is the wise choice. I also ask him how my dogs are doing. As a man who prides himself on having zero attachments, I have to admit that I miss them like crazy. The next letter is all for my girl.

Zaika,

I forgive your angry, insulting letter, sweetheart, because I know you’re grieving. I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you feel better. It must be terrible to go through this all on your own. My dad died when I was around your age. I’m not going to lie to you. I will never lie to you, Lydia. You’ll carry around his death for the rest of your life, but it will get easier.

I stop and smile at the thought of my father. He’d been a mean son of a bitch who liked to beat my mom. Killing him had felt damn good, and the memory always makes me grin. I don’t bother mentioning those details to Lydia. Every relationship needs a bit of mystery.

I expect a letter from you very soon. I will not fuck off, as you so rudely suggested. I’m here to stay, zaika. There is no getting rid of me.

Write me a letter and tell me about yourself.

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