Heart of My Monster (Monster Trilogy, #3)(49)

Shit.

I need to only take calculative hits. Otherwise, I’ll run out of ammunition and put myself in a deadly position.

They shoot at me, but I manage to duck and hide behind a tree.

If they’re shooting to kill, they couldn’t have been sent by my family, right? At least, I hope they’re not trying to eliminate me.

Though that’s a huge possibility if they think I went back to Kirill.

Damn it.

I catch my breath, hold my gun with both hands, and slowly peek around the tree.

That’s weird. While I was fast, they probably are, too, so where are they?

All of a sudden, a doomsday-like feeling ticks in my head and I look back just in time to see a black-clad figure staring at me. I shoot him right before he kills me.

Blood splatters on my face as he hits the ground in front of me.

I don’t have time to check his identity since other footsteps are approaching me. So I take note of his weapon and run deeper into the forest.

In the meantime, I manage to exchange bullets with one of my pursuers.

It isn’t until I’m far into the thick trees that I manage to kill the second.

But I keep running, suspecting a third to be close behind.

If that’s the case, what about Kirill?

Once I make sure no one is hot on my trail, I check the location he sent me. I’m twenty minutes away from the cabin, which I can get to without going back through the forest.

I spent approximately thirty minutes in the cat-and-mouse chase with the second one. It’d be easier to meet Kirill at the cabin rather than go back to the forest and risk being shot.

Especially since I have only one bullet left.

I reach the cabin in record time. It’s located in the mountains, surrounded by trees for as far as the eye can see.

Instead of heading inside, I do a tour of the entire property, my finger on the trigger.

Fortunately, Kirill was right and they don’t seem to know about the place.

One problem, though. I don’t have the key. I try under the mat and beneath the porch, but I end up finding it in one of the flowerpots lining the steps.

After I’m inside, I release a breath, but I still track the cozy-looking area in case there’s an uninvited guest. Once I’m sure I’m the only one here, I lean against the back of the sofa and call Kirill. It goes straight to voicemail.

Fuck.

I pace the length of the cottage. He’s okay. It’s Kirill, after all. Those guys couldn’t get him.

Unless he was ambushed.

Maybe the two who followed me were a red herring and the actual army is out for Kirill’s life.

Shit.

Shit.

The longer I call him and he doesn’t pick up, the harder my heart beats.

I completely forget why I want him out of the picture or that if he’s gone, I’ll finally be free of him.

But that’s the thing. I don’t think I ever will be.

The bitter truth slaps me in the face: I prefer being in this fucked-up coexistence with him than being happy without him.

I’m so damn sick.

But apparently I don’t give a damn, because I sprint out of the house and run the length of the garden.

He should’ve been here by now.

He should’ve—

My feet come to a halt when I catch sight of him walking onto the property, a gun in his hand and blood covering his neck and chest.

“Kirill!” I run toward him. “What’s wrong? Have you been shot—”

The words die in my throat when he meets me halfway and slams his lips to mine.





16





SASHA





I’m stunned.

No, I’m paralyzed.

A part of me is completely aware that I’m supposed to fight this. I’m supposed to kick him in the nuts and run as far away as I can because I know of his nature. A few months ago, he manipulated the situation to have me and his ambition. I’m not confident that he won’t do it again. That, one day, he’ll strike a deal in which he has to sacrifice me.

But the other part is so tired of my flight mode. It’s impossible to remember why I should be resisting, leaving, and disappearing.

My lips tremble beneath his hard, demanding ones.

Being kissed by Kirill has always been an experience, but this kiss? It’s as if I’m facing a hurricane and my only choice is to let myself be whisked away.

He captures my chin, his fingers pressing on the skin with nonnegotiable power. Everything about him brims with control and command.

His touch.

His chest that’s pressing against mine.

His hand that’s glued to my back.

My lips are pried open—or maybe I willingly let them part.

Emotions cloud my head until I can’t tell which is which anymore.

That slight hesitation is what Kirill needs to invade my mouth. His teeth nibble on my tongue, the pressure rising in increments, holding me hostage in its intensity. Just when I think he’ll cut the skin, he sucks on the assaulted part.

I bite him back just as hard, maybe even harder. I have to inflict pain for all the confusion, the betrayal, the disappointment.

I want to hurt him.

No, I need to hurt him for everything he made me go through just because I stupidly loved him.

This time, a metallic taste explodes in my mouth. He has to taste it, too, but he doesn’t stop or pause in his mission to conquer me.