Bratva Beast (Bravikov Bratva #1)

Chapter 4

TWO WEEKS LATER

ISABELLA

The neighbor kid I tutor turns his head to the door as it slams open. Two men carry in a third man with blood on his shirt as Anton, Cynric’s enforcer, storms into the small conference room in Cynric’s building which I borrow on the first floor once a week to tutor.

“Izzy, get him out of here. We need the room.”

I glance at the teenager and motion to his backpack. “You should review the rest of the chapter to make sure you’ve got it for your quiz, and I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He gives the tall, scary-looking, tatted man a wide berth as he exits the conference room on the first floor.

“Do you need me to go get Cynric, Anton?” I need to leave this room. I don’t have any business with any of this.

Anton has a large viper tattoo surrounding his neck. He’s creepy. His face is red, and his eyes are bulging. “Where’s your fucking bag?”

Crap. He’s high and irrational, as usual. “It’s upstairs in the condo entry closet. Why?”

“Fritz got shot.” I guess Fritz is the injured guy with the blood seeping out of his shoulder.

I’m collecting my calculator and the white board markers and putting them into my bag. None of this has anything to do with me. I glance again at the wound. “Take him to Mikhail’s dentist.” The man wasn’t really a dentist, but he’d lost his license to practice medicine two decades ago, and it was easier for the Bratva to just call him something else.

Anton blazes across the room and grabs my arm. His hand whips around and smacks my face. The sting morphs into a dull ache, and I have to stop myself from touching it. “You need to have that fucking bag.”

The impact of his strike jars my thoughts. Pain resonates through my cheek and into my jaw and skull. That night with my mother’s fuck buddy explodes in my brain. “Fuck. Take your fucking hands off me.” I’m not letting you hit me anymore. Asshole. I aim my knee into his crotch and, with all the force in my small body, I jam it into his nuts.

Anton screams as he falls to the floor. The two other members flanking the injured man chuckle.

Dominic, the younger enforcer, pops a broad smile across his face as he sees Anton writhing on the ground, and he quickly removes it, staring at me with a slack jaw. “Why’d you do that?”

“He hit me.” I rub my cheek and catch the tears falling from my eye. “The fucker hit me again.”

A voice booms from the door. “Great job, Isochka. I knew you had strength in you.”

I gawk at Cynric. The men in the room stare. The injured man stops moaning and catches his breath, looking at Cynric. “Boss, you’re out here.”

“No shit, dumbass.” Cynric stands above Anton and kicks out his steel-toed boot into his face. “You fucking hit her.”

Anton scrambles to get to his feet, thrusting his hand out to point at me. “She doesn’t fucking listen.”

Cynric’s face reddens, except for the scar along the side of his face, which remains pale. His intense glare catches me off guard. “When did he hit you before?”

I blow out a breath. “He hit me in Papa’s kitchen. He was high, like now, and pissed off that I wouldn’t let him fuck me.”

The color on Anton’s face drains as Cynric explodes in Russian swear words. “Does my father know?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Saxon told me he’d handle Anton. He said he’d make sure Anton never hit me again, then he told him and the others that I was not on the menu.”

Cynric pulls out his phone. Yelling in Russian into the phone as the three other men in the room cringe. He ends the call and stares at one of his men. “Take Anton to my father.”

The man has blood oozing around his wound. He won’t bleed to death, but he’s sweating and pale. I flick my head to the door. “Someone needs to get my bag.”

Cynric points to the table next to the door. “I brought it down.”

How did he realize I needed the bag? I survey the room. He’s got the room bugged. The other man grabs the bag, lugging it back to me. I keep the bag stocked for emergencies, so I reach in and pull out what I need. Raised voices echo in the lobby, and I try to block it out.

The injured man who’s sweating like he’s been in a sauna. “Hi. I’m Izzy. What’s your name?”

The injured man grits his teeth. “Just fix me.”

Cynric growls. “Be polite, Fritz, or I’ll take her away and you can fucking bleed to death.”

The man nods at Cynric with a look of understanding. He turns his attention back to me as I’m pressing cloth into his wound. “I’m Nick.”

“Are you allergic to anything, Nick?”

“No ma’am. Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“You were shot. The bullet is still in your shoulder, and I’m going to have to take it out. I don’t have any pain killers except some lidocaine.”

“Just take it out.”

I put on nitrile gloves and then select a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. I slide the needle into the bottle and draw out the fluid. I place my free hand on the skin next to the wound and inject the needle between my hand and the bullet. “We often don’t remove the bullet, but I figured you’d like to dispose of it, so I’ll take it out. You’ll need to take it easy on the wound. I’m not going to close this up again if you rip out the glue.”

Cynric stands over my shoulder, scrutinizing. “You’re using glue?”

“Yeah. Fibrin glue is excellent for gunshot wounds. He needs to not use the shoulder for two weeks to let it heal.”

Cynric tips his head to the man. “Don’t fuck up the work she’s doing.”

He nods. “Yes, boss.”

I put a gauze pad and tape over the wound and hand the man six gauze pads and a small roll of tape. “Keep it clean and change the bandage after you shower. Don’t stand under the stream.”

Cynric flicks his head to the other man that brought Nick in. “Take him home and go to my father’s house. I’ll be there later.” He picks up the bag and slips his hand on my lower back and leads me to the elevator.

CYNRIC

FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE

I sit in my office gritting my teeth at my two front computer screens showcasing the after-hours trading sites I scrutinize throughout the day. Making money is my addiction. I used to screw every night, and now I stock trade. The blackout curtains in my office help me forget what time of day it is. I never liked people before my accident, but now I just hate them. Movement on my third monitor causes my head to turn. Isabella is patiently instructing her teenage student. That kid is really lucky. She’s a good tutor. I hate math, but with someone like her who makes it seem fun and easy, I might have appreciated learning it. The sound is just loud enough for me to pick up the gentle tone she uses to teach the kid. I focus back on the screens, glancing at finance articles of interest. I’ve made substantial money doing this since my accident. My face and neck irritate me as the memory of my accident creeps into my brain. I rub my scars as I remember the pain. A yell interrupts the memory, and I pivot to the screen with Isabella.

Anton, my enforcer, is screaming. Towering over Isabella as she radiates fear, I have an innate need to get to her and protect her. She sends her student out the door and engages Anton while she puts her stuff into her bag. My phone pings in my hand.

What the fuck? We’ve got a doctor for that. Why the fuck are they bringing him to my building? Anton is out of control. Damn it. I’m up and out of my chair as Anton’s moving across the room. “That fucking asshole is going to die.” I grab her medical bag out of the closet, running into the hall. I hit the button for the elevator, swearing in Russian as I’m gritting my teeth, willing the doors to open and vengeance to begin. The elevator doors open, and I get inside, texting my brother. I stride through the lobby and hear raised voices coming from the conference room. Anton yells, “bitch.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Adrenaline pumps into my body, flooding my soul with rage. Have I ever worried about anyone besides my brothers? Faces scroll through my mind like a video strip of who’s who in my life. Nope. My mind focuses on her face. Isabella. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. I barrel through the door and race to Anton, who’s lying prone on the ground. My feet skid to a stop as my little waif stands over him like a conquering queen. “Great job, Isochka.”

Twenty minutes later, Fritz is off to recuperate in his apartment, and I’m lugging Isabella’s medical go-bag. I stash it back into the closet. “Isabella?” I reach for her arm. “You should have told me about Anton.”

She turns with a furrowed brow. “Why?”

“Anything that happens to you is my business.”

Her eyes widen and she offers a small gasp. “Why do men think the best way to control a woman is through fear? It’s not enough to hurt me. You all have to scare me, too.”

My blood pressure rises. Hurt? Scared? “Who the hell hurt you besides Anton?”

Isabella turns and runs down the hall toward her room.

ISABELLA

“Isabella.” Cynric yells, his Russian accent heavier because he’s pissed. “Come here.”

I stop as I reach for the knob and turn it. “Don’t order me around like I’m one of your girls, Cyn.” And when did you decide to give me a pet name? “Isochka?”

His face hardens.

Shit, wrong thing to say.

He growls. “You will kneel.”

“Are you out of your mind? Uh, no. You aren’t going to tell me what to do. I’m almost a doctor. I save people for a living.”

He moves toward me, and my insides flip. My heart can’t decide whether to be interested or afraid.

“I asked you a question and unless you want me to put you over my knee and spank your gorgeous ass, you’ll tell me.”

Gorgeous? What? “Um. Did you call my ass gorgeous?”

He nods. “I did. It is.”

Holy shit. His eyes are dilated so much I can only see a ring of color around the pupil. I dip my head to see a massive erection pushing against his pants. “Um, Cynric?”

A sly smile creeps up which he tries to hide. “Yes, Isabella.”

“Why do you call me Isabella instead of Izzy?”

“Because I want to.” His statement hangs in the air, and my mind can’t come up with a comeback. He points to the floor in front of him. “Kneel.”

My hand automatically comes to my hip as I cock my head. “No.”

He moves incredibly fast, throwing me over his shoulder and striding down the hall. His hand reaches up, and a smack hits my butt cheek.

“Ow. What the fucking hell?”

He raises his hand and slaps my ass again. “Do not swear.”

“Seriously. You all swear. What’s the big deal?”

“You don’t need to swear. You’re brilliant. Come up with better words.”

“Put me down, Cyn.”

We go through the steel doors that lead to his rooms, and he steps into his bedroom. He slides me down his body and I land on my feet. “Who else hurt you?”

His steely glare annoys me, and I roll my eyes. “Today was the third time Anton hit me.”

He crosses his arms, and there’s steam coming out of his ears as his jaw tightens. “You should have told me, or one of my brothers.”

I shrug. “Anton said none of you would care. He said he’s your right hand, and I’m not important. Saxon tried to handle it the first time.”

Cynric’s face softens as he runs his fingers down my cheek. “You are important, and Anton won’t be able to ever hit you again because I’m going to kill him.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ve been taking self-defense classes for the last year, and I decided I’d do damage the next time he touched me.”

Cynric smiles. “Kneeing him in the balls was good, but not really enough to stop an enforcer.”

“I guess. I was surprised he hit me in your building.”

A small laugh catches me off-guard. “You figured out I have cameras.”

“Yeah. Now I’m wondering if you have them in my room.”

“I don’t. I’m not a monster.” He cocks his head. “Well, yes, I am, but I respect your boundaries.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

His fingers run down my cheek and onto my neck, making me gasp.

“You like that.”

Reality crashes into my brain. I take a small step back. “What are we doing?”

“I’m going to spank you for not telling me what I wanted to know.”

I blow out a big breath. “Fine.”

He grabs my wrist and tugs me closer. His eyes are dark with desire, but there’s a hint of amusement in them, too. “Turn around,” he commands softly.

My heart races as I slowly pivot, exposing my back to him. I hear him move behind me as the heat of his body radiates against me. His hand traces down my spine, making me shiver.

“Bend over,” he whispers in my ear.

The warmth from his breath against my skin speeds up my heart, and I hesitate. My mind wars with my body’s reactions to his touch. Curiosity and excitement win out as I lean forward against the door with my hand on the knob.

His palm rests on my lower back. “Are you ready?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

The first smack lands, sending a jolt through me. It stings, but also ignites something deep inside. I chew on my lower lip.

“Next time, I’m going to do this to your naked ass.” He reaches around my body and turns me to face him. He puts his lips against mine. I can taste his lust. He jerks me upright and takes my arm in his hand, hitting the button on the wall to open his doors. Cynric pulls his dark, long-sleeve t-shirt over his head and stares at me. My breath catches at the sight of his muscular torso. His skin is smooth and tanned, marred only by a scar on the side of his neck and a discoloration on his stomach from what looks like a knife wound. I want to trace the old wound with my fingers, to learn its story. But Cynric doesn’t give me time to appreciate his perfectly sculpted abs. He tugs me through the doorway into what appears to be his private quarters. The room is sparsely furnished, dominated by a large bed with dark sheets. I cast a glance into an adjacent room to see screens on a large, dark wood desk. He releases my arm and moves to stand in front of me. His eyes roam over my body, making me feel exposed even though I’m still fully clothed.

“Strip.” His voice is deep and husky. He mumbles something in Russian that sounds like he’s going to hell. My heart races as my hands tremble, reaching for the hem of my shirt. Pulling it over my head, I let it cascade to the floor. He swallows as I unhook my bra, shaking it off my arms to pile on top of my shirt. His gaze makes my panties wet. His scrutiny burns into me as I slide my pants down my legs. I bend down to pick up my pile of clothes as he takes them from my hands. He lays them across a leather chair and refocuses on my body. His eyes catch at my panties, and a slight smile creeps up his lips. “Those.” He points and I push them down my legs.

He reaches to grab the panties before I can pick them up and presses them to his nose. “Mm. You want me.” He circles me as he tosses my panties onto my other clothes on the chair.

I stand there feeling vulnerable as a shiver runs through me. He moves back in front of me and removes his belt and then unbuttons his jeans. He works the material down his legs and tosses them on the clothes chair.

My mouth waters. His happy trail on his abdomen leads to his groin. He’s gloriously naked and moves toward me, trailing his fingers around my breast. Goosebumps emerge as I shudder.

He murmurs. “Exquisite.” He pulls me into his naked body. His erection pushes against my abdomen. “Can you guess why I brought you in here?” His lips brush against my ear.

I can’t answer. I gently shake my head as my brain scrambles to put this moment into perspective. It’s just sex. He’s not a commitment kind of guy.

He nuzzles my neck as his husky voice whispers. “You’re going to scream my name.” His teeth graze my earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine. I gasp softly as one of his hands slides up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. The other hand drifts lower, fingertips teasing along my inner thigh. “Are you a virgin, Isabella?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve done it before.”

His body stiffens. “With whom? When did you get enough freedom to escape my father’s scrutiny?”

“In college. One was a one-night stand with a guy I thought really liked me, and the other was a short-term boyfriend. Anton scared him off.”

“I’m grateful to Anton for that one.” He snickered. “I’m glad. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I tipped my head. “That is going to be a stretch. You’re huge.”

“It’ll fit. You were made for me.”

“I want you, Cynric. I want this.”

“Not that I’d give you the choice, baby, but I’m glad.”

He cradles me into his arms, then lays me down on the bed. I gasp as one of his hands slides up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. The other hand drifts lower, fingertips teasing along my inner thigh. He shifts above me, settling between my legs as he captures my lips. Arching against him, I crave more. I roam my hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex. He moves his mouth to my neck, drawing flesh between his lips, making his mark. “Do we need a condom?”

I shake my head. “No.” His cock presses against my sex. The feeling is exquisite, sending shivers of anticipation through my body. He teases me, sliding the length of his shaft along my slick folds but not entering. My pussy is drenched as I whimper with need, trying to angle my hips to take him inside.

“Patience,” he murmurs against my ear, nipping at the lobe.

His hands roam my body, caressing and exploring. When he cups my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples, I arch into his touch. The dual sensations of his hands on my chest and his cock rubbing against me are driving me wild.

“Please,” I beg breathlessly. “I need you inside me.”

He rubs my clit with his thumb, chuckling. “After you come for me.”

He pushes his cock into my pussy, feeling my tight walls. Instead of pushing deep, he pulls back and thrusts the head in just enough to feel so full. His ministrations send shockwaves of pleasure through my body. His tongue dances with mine, mimicking the thrusts of his cock, and my back arches as ecstasy crashes over me in waves. He works me through my climax until I’m panting.

He smiles down at me. “You’re good and wet now. I think watching you come is my new obsession.”

I nod. “Let’s make you come now.”

He kisses me as his steel length thrusts inside. My pussy stretches around his huge cock. Keeping up a rhythm, he hits the perfect spot inside me, sending shivers all over my body. I close my eyes, relishing the experience. My fingers squeeze his arms, urging him along. “Please.”

“I like when you beg me.”

He bites the soft skin by my collarbone and my moans of pleasure spur him on. I open my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. The intimacy of the moment is almost overwhelming. I’m drowning in sensation as he slides inside me. Skin against skin, rubbing his flesh against mine, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the universe that matters. His body stiffens as he cries out. My body can’t hold back as I meet him thrust for thrust as the tingles cover my body. I’m going to come. Cynric growls as waves of rapture crash over me and I’m screaming his name in ecstasy. He follows, burying his face in my neck as he finds his own release.

He pulls out and lays against me, pulling me into his side. He grasps the comforter and pulls it over the top of us. “Sleep.”

My mind wars with the idea of sleeping in his bed. I want to get up, but the warmth and comfort bathe my soul as I drift off in the arms of my beast.