Blood of My Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance (Monster Trilogy Book 1)

Three days later, I have a fading bruise due to Damien’s punch, and the tension in the house has gone up a notch.

Yulia always looks at Kirill like she wants to strangle him—which isn’t a surprise, considering he did kidnap her.

Konstantin has been sneaky and going out for multiple meetings. Yuri told me that just because he lost his father’s power doesn’t mean he’s out of the game. He still has his mother’s influence to fall back on, and he’ll use it to its full capacity.

Karina has been coming out of her room to watch me or her brother like a creep before she runs back to her self-confinement and slams the door.

Me? I’ve been actively trying to avoid Kirill as if my life depends on it.

It takes every ounce of professional willpower I have to look him in the eye and not think about the feeling of his body beneath mine. His fingers on my lips. His hand gripping my hip. His erection beneath my ass.

His breath, his smell, his warmth. Everything.

It’s impossible to forget. I didn’t even get a proper taste, but I still want more.

And more.

And even…more.

But I can’t. I won’t.

No matter how tempted I am by Kirill, no matter how hard it is to keep this fiery, unusual attraction at bay, that’s exactly what I will do.

He’s dangerous to everything I’ve been trying to build. I lied when I said he wasn’t my enemy. After all, he’s Roman Morozov’s son, and depending on that man’s involvement in my family’s murder, he might become my enemy.

I’ve spent the last couple of days actively memorizing the mansion’s security system. While I hated using Maksim, I had to learn how everything around here worked. The cameras, the alarms, and the guards in charge of surveillance.

The interesting tidbit I came up with is that there are no cameras in any of the bedrooms or the office. If I somehow manage to get into there without looking suspicious on the hall’s cameras, I’ll be able to get some information.

I’ve been to the office before, but only when Kirill and Viktor were there.

Most drawers have keys that Kirill changed to password protection. The safe is thumbprint protected, so only Kirill can open it. That doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t think Roman considered his involvement with my family a sensitive enough secret to hide in the safe.

He probably thought of the whole ordeal as something trivial. Hell, I have to be prepared for the possibility that he considered it unimportant enough that he left no record behind.

I won’t know until I try, though.

Keeping my steps nonchalant, I walk down the hall leading to the office, then knock on the door and try to open it.

Locked.

Of course it is.

Still, I remain there for a moment, contemplating the best and fastest way to pick the lock without looking suspicious.

“Do you need something?”

I startle, but I subtly compose myself and turn around to face Viktor’s solemn existence. “I was searching for Boss.”

The stonelike man raises a brow. “In front of a closed door?”

“I thought maybe he was inside. I knocked.”

He remains expressionless, and it takes everything in me not to fidget. I swear he does it on purpose just to see me squirm.

But we’re not in the army anymore, and he’s not my direct superior. I lift my chin, but that does nothing to change his unwelcoming features.

“Boss is asking for you at the training grounds. Now.”

The best way to make me forget about Viktor’s presence? His stupid boss. There goes my attempt to avoid him for another day.

“Did he say why?”

“No.” Then he starts to stride out.

I make a face at his back. He turns around abruptly, and I pretend to be touching my hair.

“Move it, Lipovsky.”

“I prefer Sasha or at least, Aleksander.”

“And I prefer you not talk unless absolutely necessary, but we don’t always get what we want.”

Asshole.

I follow him to the training ground near one of the annexed houses. It’s basically a giant gym attached to an indoor pool, a sauna, and a clinic. The guards have everything here to stay in shape, day in and day out.

There’s no need to ask Viktor about Kirill’s whereabouts. I spot him in the middle of the fighting rings, watching the matches with a critical gaze.

He’s in his usual black pants and white button-down that’s rolled to his elbows. He appears pensive with his arms crossed and his glasses sitting up on his nose, giving him a dangerous edge.

This is why I’ve been trying to avoid him since that night. Hell, I’ve been trying to minimize our time alone since he found out my actual gender.

I just can’t stop looking at him the moment I see him. There’s no end in sight for my strange awareness whenever he’s around.

Upon noticing me, Kirill pauses, and I swallow thickly before striding toward him with mock confidence.

I take refuge in the fighting sounds of the other guards and the fact that Kirill and I aren’t alone, so no funny business can happen.

He steps into one of the sectioned rings on the floor and I follow him inside it.

My feet come to a halt in front of him, and I have to look up because he’s stupidly tall. “You asked for me?”

“Yes.” He uncrosses his arms, letting them fall to either side of him. “This is the next step of your training.”

“Next step?”

“You didn’t think the training you received at camp was the end of it, did you? That was merely muscle strengthening.” He runs his gaze over me in a mechanical manner that feels like fire. “You still have a long way to go.”

“Is it…because Damien’s punch knocked me unconscious?”

“It’s because he was able to land a punch when you were supposed to be detaining him. You’re a good sniper, but you won’t always have a gun on you. In the case of hand-to-hand combat, you’ll be greatly disadvantaged and possibly killed in the span of seconds. We need to fix that. On guard.”

“What type of training is this?”

“Simple.” He beckons me over with two fingers. “Punch me.”

“I…can do that?”

“No, but you can try.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I can punch you.”

A slight twitch lifts the corner of his lip. “Try then.”

“What do I get if I manage to do it?”

“Any reward you pick.”

“You’re underestimating me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe you’re the one overestimating yourself.” He beckons me again.

“One punch, right? Anywhere?”

“In the face.”

“I’d hate to ruin your handsome features.”

A rare smirk curves his lips. “You find me handsome?”

Shit. “It’s…common sense.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t worry, Sasha. You’ll do nothing to my handsome features. Now, are you going to stand there all day?”

I don’t waste time and lunge at him. Not only does he duck, but he also hits me in the back, knocking me down on the mat with effortless ease.

Pain throbs along my lower belly and back, but I manage to get up again. Kirill stays put, his expression as calm as a monk.

Okay. I didn’t think this would be easy, but then again, while I personally witnessed Kirill being an excellent sniper, I don’t know much about his combat skills. He did throw me against the wall when I was attempting to protect him from Karina. He also hit Damien and inflicted damage, which means he does have strength.

He just chooses not to show it.

“Again.” Another beckoning with two fingers.

That motion is starting to piss me off.

I summon all my strength and sprint toward him at full speed. My feet give out from underneath me, and I end up on the ground with a more painful thud than earlier.

He didn’t even let me come close this time. I glare up at his neutral expression, and now, I do wish to inflict damage on those features.

“Again.”

I stand up on wobbly feet and fling off my jacket, toss it out of the ring, then roll the sleeves of my shirt up.

Kirill’s face remains the same. Timeless and emotionless. It doesn’t change. Not when I let out a battle cry and raise my fist, not when I attempt to punch him, and certainly not when he throws me against the ground. Again and again and again.

One hour later, I haven’t managed to touch him, let alone punch him.

My shirt sticks to my back with sweat. I’m breathing so heavily, I’m nearly wheezing, and my organs feel rearranged from the number of impacts I’ve taken.

He doesn’t do it in a way that would inflict permanent damage, but he’s so firm in his subduing methods that I feel each and every one of them.

Other guards surround us, having finished their individual training.

“You’ve got this, Sasha!” Maksim’s voice comes from behind me.

I look in his direction and give him a thumbs-up. Yuri, who’s standing by his side, doesn’t have the same encouraging expression.

He shakes his head at me as if telling me to give up. That no one here can take on Kirill. But that’s the thing. I just refuse to give up.

“Again.” There’s a harshness in Kirill’s tone this time. More than usual.

When I go for him, he all but sends me flying across the ring. A collective “Ahh” comes from my colleagues as pain explodes all over my side.

Shit.

“Again.”

I try to stand up on unsteady feet, but even I am aware that I can barely stay upright. Fighting and landing punches is impossible. We’ve been going at this for so long and my fist has never connected with any part of his body, let alone his face.

Hell, he doesn’t even look tired or like he’s exerted any amount of energy.

Damn it. This is so embarrassing.

“Sir, you can’t go inside.” Viktor’s urgent voice booms through the space.

I’m not sure if I should be alarmed or thankful for the interruption. Aside from when Rulan and his men died, I haven’t sensed an air of urgency like I do right now.

Even Kirill, who didn’t change his expression the entire time he was beating me up for sport, grows taller, more imposing, and larger than life. I take a peek at the newcomer while catching my breath.

It’s none other than Damien. All alone.

As Maksim outlined, it’s virtually impossible to find any of the Bratva leaders on their own. One, assassination attempts are real.

Two, they generally don’t want to die.

Three, and most importantly, having bodyguards is the most logical and secure thing to do.

I’m starting to really believe that Damien has a screw loose somewhere, because he’s solo. I doubt Viktor and the others could’ve stopped his guards if they’d come along. Usually, bodyguards, especially the inner-circle ones, are ready to die for their bosses.

Damien spins around to face Viktor. “You. Stop following me like a fucking lost puppy before I kick you.”

Viktor doesn’t reply, but he looks at Kirill. “I’m sorry, Boss. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Blah fucking blah.” Damien slides in front of Kirill, wearing a manic grin. “Hi, motherfucker.”

“Care to explain the reason behind your unwanted presence?” Kirill asks point-blank.

“Now I understand who taught your guards their sense of hospitality. I must say, zero out of five, strongly fucking not recommended.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question.”

Damien pushes me out of the way. “You, pretty boy, get out of here.”

Did he just call me a pretty boy…?

Kirill doesn’t move, but it’s almost as if he grows more intimidating with his harsh eyes alone. When he speaks, though, he sounds absolutely collected. “Damien. You have exactly three seconds to tell me why you’re here before I throw you out. One…three.”

Damien grins and widens his eyes. “Why else? To fight. of course.”

“What makes you think I want to waste my time fighting you?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You were fighting with the useless pretty boy who can’t pull a punch to save his fucking life, and you call fighting me a waste of time? What the, and I can’t stress this enough, fucking fuck are you on about?”

“I refuse.” Kirill pushes past him and heads toward the house.

Damien follows after him. “Come on, you know you want to.”

“No, I don’t.”

“What if I pay you?”

“Not interested.”

“What if we bet on something?”

“Still not interested.”

“Even profit?”

Kirill gives him the side-eye. “How do you even know the meaning of that word?”

“Couldn’t give a fuck about it, to be honest, but I’m good at it, and I know you understand its value.”

Kirill continues walking without saying anything. Damien follows him inside, seeming so pleased with himself.

“You okay, Sash?” Maksim wraps his hand around my shoulder in a bro hug, forcing me to stop staring at the house.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of.”

“If it’s any consolation.” Yuri joins my other side and hits me on the back. “None of us can win against Boss. He’s just…made of stone.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, Sasha,” another guard says.

“You held out pretty well in front of his alien stamina,” one more says.

They all either pat me on the shoulder, ruffle my hair, or hit me on the back. The latter does more damage to my aching body, but I smile through it.

Suddenly, all the embarrassment and weakness I felt earlier gradually disappears. I haven’t known these guys for a long time, but they’ve slowly but surely become like a family to me.

“Let’s get you something to eat.” Maksim and Yuri drag me in the direction of the kitchen.

“Is Damien really here just to fight?” I ask Maksim. “Or does he have an ulterior motive?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Yuri says thoughtfully. “If it were any of the other Bratva members, I’d be certain they were here to spy, but according to the data I gathered about Damien, I’m pretty sure he’s really here to fight after he had a taste of Boss’s strength the other day.”

“Yeah,” Maksim adds. “I’m gonna throw a wild guess and say he’s not sophisticated enough to be a spy.”

“He could do it unknowingly, though,” Yuri says, his tone of voice changing. “There’s absolutely no trustworthy people in the organization. They all want to be at the top, whatever it takes.”

Kirill included.

He’s at the top of the list of people who would use any methods to reach his goal.

Maybe he’s started to rub off on me, too, because ever since he asked me to punch him and told me he’d reward me with anything, I’ve been thinking of an important position.

One where I would have as much access to the main office as Viktor and could finally investigate what Roman left behind.