Lies of My Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance (Monster Trilogy Book 2)

Today is Kirill’s birthday.

I know because Karina has roped me into planning a surprise party of sorts. My role is to get him back to the house at a reasonable hour so he can at least eat a slice of the cake she ordered a month ago.

And while that sounds easy in theory, it’s harder in reality. Kirill usually spends most of the night at the club and only goes back during the ungodly hours of early morning.

The weirdest thing about his birthday is that it happens to be one day before mine. Just one. Well, separated by eight years, but anyway.

He doesn’t know that, though, because my birthday in the army files is fake. Last year, he asked me if I wanted a day off for my birthday, and I told him that one wasn’t real. He asked for my actual one, but I said that I don’t celebrate anyway, so there’s no need.

And I don’t. At least, not since my family passed away.

The thought of celebrating without a party, presents, dinner, and games with my cousins makes me sick to my stomach. It’s better to think that chapter of my life is long over.

The new me doesn’t have a birthday. Just duties.

However, like Karina, I want to make Kirill’s birthday special. He’s always plotting or executing a plan and barely has any time for himself or his family—not that he holds that in high regard. He only cares about Karina’s well-being.

The problem is getting him home. Viktor refuses to cooperate and has only been following whatever Kirill asks him to do. Yuri said he has no power to convince Kirill of anything, and Maksim was like, “He doesn’t like celebrating his birthday. Does he even know it exists?”

I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t, considering the strained relationship he shares with his mother. His sister said that she always wanted to offer him different memories about the day he was born but didn’t know how—which is where I come in.

Ever since the kidnapping episode by the Albanians two months ago, things have evolved between us.

Countless events have followed, mainly a war with the Irish and a lot of drama in Rai’s life, but eventually, the organization reached a careful downtime.

It can be seen on the men’s bored faces, and their restlessness can be felt in the air. And I don’t mean only our men, but every soldier in the brotherhood.

These men are so used to violence and war that peace makes them uncomfortable. I’m somewhat the same, and the only reason I haven’t been getting antsy is because Kirill tires me every night. He either ties me up, straps the leather around my throat, or bends me over the nearest surface so he can fuck me like an animal.

It’s precisely that animal side of him that’s been giving me the stimulation I need. And I think he needs it, too, because our nightly endeavors have become more intense with each passing day. Sometimes, I think I’ll die in the throes of pleasure. Other times, I keep up with him stroke for stroke until we’re both spent and satiated.

But most of the time, there’s this twisted need for more and more. I crave his savagery, how he dominates, bites, and bruises my skin. He doesn’t hold back or treat me like a delicate flower. Far from it.

Kirill gives me exactly what I need, and in return, he takes what he wants.

I’ve started to hate daytime because I can’t touch him. At least, not when everyone is around.

As much as I hate to admit it, Kirill has better control than I do. While I often catch myself staring at him and recalling whatever fuckery he did to my body the night before, he usually doesn’t pay me attention and acts professionally.

Which I’m thankful for because the last thing I need is for the men I’m supposed to be leading to think that I’m having sex with their boss.

Sometimes, however, he sends me these sexy texts out of nowhere that leave me hot and bothered. The worst part is that they usually happen when we’re surrounded by others.

It’s things like:

You look tense. Want me to loosen you up with my cock?

I can still taste your greedy little cunt on my tongue. I’m coming back for more tonight.

You better not be tired, because there’ll be no sleep until you’re all choked up with my cum.

Are you sore? You look uncomfortable. Should we ghost my cock and let my tongue take care of you?

Be in my room in ten. Naked. Lie on your back, legs apart. If I don’t have a clear view of my pussy when I walk in, you’ll be punished.

It’s hard to remain as unaffected as he is when I get those texts. And the asshole smirks at me as if he knows the exact effect he has on me.

I can’t help feeling a sense of relief at the routine Kirill and I have fallen into. I don’t think he completely trusts me yet, but I never expected that anyway. The most important part is that he looks at me as if he can’t get enough of me, like he can’t wait to kick everyone out just so he can have me wholly to himself.

He can be a bastard about it, too, not bothering to be amicable to the men who respect him a great deal.

But with this strange stability comes the fear that it’s only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan again. And I don’t mean about the Bratva wars or the rocky relationship with the cartels. I can handle shoot-outs and chaos.

What I can’t handle, however, is the possible implication of my family and having Kirill find out about everything I’ve been keeping neatly tucked behind my ribcage.

It’s been months since the Russia incident, and nothing else has happened since. My uncle hasn’t gotten in touch, and there have been no clear attempts on Kirill’s life except during that drug shipment episode. Or…the other month when some of the Irish soldiers specifically targeted him. Or a few weeks ago, when someone attempted to assassinate him while we were getting out of the club.

But…those are normal, right? The first two were gang wars, and the third could be because he offended someone—which is more common than not.

At least, that’s what I choose to think of them. I don’t believe that Uncle Albert or Babushka sent men here for these particular missions. If they did, my uncle would’ve warned me to abandon Kirill’s ship.

Not that I would’ve listened.

I often wonder how they’re doing and how much Mike has grown since I last saw him. Whenever I miss him, I call Uncle Albert, but it never goes through. Sometimes, I think about visiting them, but the image of what happened to Kirill the last time I was there quickly erases that idea. Besides, they disowned me. I don’t think they care about what happens to me.

It doesn’t help that I constantly have this doomsday feeling about the possibility of a disaster happening in the near future. I’ve been extra jerky and might have been too violent toward anyone who’s attempted to get close to Kirill, let alone touch him.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, or I’m being paranoid for no reason.

But that’s the thing, there is a reason. I know deep in my heart that it’s only a matter of time before something happens. And maybe that’s why I’ve been on edge.

“You need to relax,” a deep voice whispers in my ear.

That only manages to make me stiffen more. One, it came out of nowhere. Two, feeling Kirill’s hot breaths in my ear makes me shiver and brings back erotic images of flesh against my flesh and low words growled against my skin.

We’re leaving the Pakhan’s house after a long afternoon meeting. It’s already nighttime, so he’ll head to the club now, and I need to figure out a way to make him go home.

“I’m relaxed,” I murmur, watching our men head to the car.

Viktor offers me a knowing look, but he doesn’t insist on being by Kirill’s side all the time anymore. I think, and I’m not sure, that he softened up a little after I was kidnapped. He’s still a stubborn, unmovable mountain, but he doesn’t make it his job to be an asshole for shits and giggles anymore.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Kirill’s lips twitch in a smirk, and I swear my heart is about to burst from its confinement. How do I resist Kirill’s charm—as twisted as it is? The answer is I can’t, and it’s not for lack of trying.

It doesn’t help that he’s become more intimate in recent months. Unlike in the past when it was clear that we were strictly using each other, now, he lies beside me, and sometimes falls asleep. While holding me to him.

My favorite time of the day is sleeping in his arms, listening to his heartbeat, and being surrounded by his warmth. And maybe I’m thinking too much, but I want to believe that there’s more to us now.

He even made me give him a pet name that I rarely use, because it’s just too embarrassing.

So now, whenever he’s teasing or being casual, I find myself reacting sentimentally and out of character.

“I really am,” I say defensively.

“You couldn’t be relaxed to save your life.” He pats my shoulder, and although it’s a simple, innocent gesture that he’d do to anyone else, I can’t help the temperature that rises throughout my body.

“That’s not true.”

“You still act like a soldier outside the army, Sasha. Maybe we should get into the sauna later and relax those muscles.”

I don’t miss the way he stresses the word muscles, and I can’t help thinking about the first time he touched me in that sauna and how he devoured me alive until I fainted.

“Stop it,” I hiss under my breath.

“What? You do need some relaxation.”

“I’m afraid your methods only add tension.”

He steps closer to my side, and I inhale his cedar scent. When he speaks in low, dark words, my whole body trembles. “Is that why you were asking for more while you were bouncing on my cock last night?”

“Kirill!”

He pushes back, his expression entirely nonchalant, which can’t be said about my heated cheeks. “What?”

Rai comes out of the house, followed by her two guards, and physically barges between him and me, a hand to her hip. “You’re an asshole, that’s what. Leave Sasha alone.”

I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck. Ever since we were kidnapped together, Rai has been trying to convince me to leave Kirill and become her guard, because, in her mind, not only does he not deserve me, but he also doesn’t know how to treat me.

She was also the one who told me about what Kirill planned to do with her sister. Thankfully, she promised not to threaten him about his sexuality or reveal my gender, and the whole thing blew over—or I hope it did.

“His name is Aleksander,” Kirill says in a hard tone, all his humor vanishing in a split second. “And you have no business telling me what to do with what belongs to me.”

“Sasha is a person, so you better treat him as such, or I’ll claw your eyes out.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m not joking, Kirill.”

“Neither am I. Now, step away from me before I blow your head off.”

“What if I say no?”

“Miss.” I smile and stand in front of her. “It’s nothing, really.”

She faces me with a soft expression. Rai has certainly changed her tone with me ever since she saw my vagina. But then again, she was always the women’s advocate in this man-centered organization.

“How could it be nothing? Your face was red just now. Was he scolding you? Giving you a hard time?”

Shit. “No, no, it’s not like that—”

“What if I was?” Kirill cuts me off and speaks in his closed-off tone. “I’m warning you, Rai, get your nose out of my and Aleksander’s business, or you’ll regret it.”

“Show me your worst. If I catch you abusing Sasha again, I’ll deal with you.” Then she flips her hair in a pure diva move and leaves, the sound of her heels echoing behind her.

“I’m going to fucking kill her,” Kirill announces casually.

“Please don’t.”

“Are you defending her?”

“No. I’m just saying that she…means well.”

“Fuck that.” He strides toward the car. “We’re going to the club.”

Ah, damn.

How will I convince him to go home now? I check my phone and wince when I find ten missed calls and fifteen texts from Karina. There’s even a text from Anna with a picture of the dining room that she decorated herself.

Okay, desperate times, I guess.

I run in Kirill’s direction, then yelp and throw myself down the stairs leading to the circular driveway. I roll down several flights and use my hands to protect my head. The thud is much stronger than I anticipated as I lie on my side at the bottom.

Maksim runs toward me. “Fuck, Sasha! You okay?”

As he helps me sit up, Kirill starts to push him, then stops. Because Yuri, Viktor, and a few of our and the Pakhan’s men are watching the show.

A muscle tightens in his jaw, but he thrusts both his hands into his pockets. “What the fuck happened?”

“I…fell down the stairs,” I offer from between clenched teeth because my side and the back of my thigh hurt like hell.

“Who pushed you?”

“No one.”

Kirill and even Viktor narrow their eyes. Shit, shit.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I struggle to a standing position with Maksim’s help. “I’m fine.”

“Nonsense.” Kirill watches me for a few silent seconds. “We’re going home.”

“Isn’t the club our next stop?” Viktor asks, threatening to ruin my plan.

Kirill doesn’t reply and heads to the car. Which means we have to go home.

Yes.

I start to follow and stumble. Yuri catches me by the arm at the last second, and I could swear he glares at me for a moment before his expression returns to normal.

Did I imagine that?

“I know you promised Miss Karina to bring him home, but don’t you think you went a bit extreme on this?” he asks in his usual wise tone.

I grin even as I limp to the car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You sound so happy about something you don’t know.”

“Who? Me?” So, yeah, maybe I’m a bit over the moon because Kirill canceled the club altogether just because I got hurt.

It was a slim chance, and I didn’t think he’d actually do it. But then again, it goes against his territorial nature to send me back with Maksim or Yuri while he goes to the club.

So let’s say I’m a tiny bit happy.

Or a lot considering I can’t stop grinning like an idiot. But my good mood gradually disappears when I sit beside Kirill in the back of the car. As soon as we start moving, he rolls down the partition, cutting us off from Yuri and Viktor.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His deep voice swishes in the air like a whip.

My back snaps into an erect position. “N-nothing, I just tripped.”

“You want me to believe that nonsense? I would’ve bought that when we first met in the military, but now, you have better balance than almost anyone, so why don’t you tell me the actual reason you pulled that fucking stunt.”

Okay, it was a long shot to fool him.

“I just want to go home.”

“You could’ve simply asked for that like a normal human fucking being.”

“And you would’ve granted it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you distrust everything?”

“Watch that fucking tone, and if you think this show will make me trust whatever you’re up to, then you’re in for a wake-up call.” He reaches out to me, and I grow still.

Kirill is intense on good days. On bad days, however, he’s a force to be reckoned with.

I feel stomped on in his path and can be either destroyed or discarded. Or both.

Kirill grabs my side, and I wince.

He lifts up my shirt and inspects the bruise that’s turning purple on my skin.

“You fucking—” He cuts himself off to breathe heavily. “If you hurt yourself for whatever reason again, I swear to fuck, Sasha…”

“I won’t.”

His light eyes taper as they watch me closely, intently, almost like he wants to cut my head off. But then he shakes his head and tucks my shirt back into my pants gently to avoid causing me any discomfort.

I don’t know what’s come over me.

He’s still carefully putting the shirt back in place when I lunge at him.

“What the fuck are you doing—” His words are cut off when I slam my lips to his.

I’ve never been the first to kiss Kirill, have never found the courage to do it, because I’ve always been insecure about the enormity of feelings I have for him.

It started in the army and has never dwindled. If anything, it’s been growing stronger and more dangerous until I couldn’t control it anymore.

But now, I don’t care if he knows how much I like him. No, like is too mild a word and describes nothing of the overpowering intensity my heart holds for him.

It hits me then as my lips find his.

I probably love the asshole.

Kirill is stunned for only a moment before he threads his fingers in and fists whatever length of my hair he can grab as he devours me. My kiss is tentative, emotional, and vulnerable. His is the epitome of destruction.

And you know what? I might be fine with that, after all.

His beastly side is part of who he is and I wouldn’t have him any other way.

The car comes to a halt and we break apart—or I do.

Kirill still has his hand fisted in my hair, and he uses it to force my attention back to him. “Care to explain what that was for?”

“We’re at the house,” I whisper.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

His face is close. It’s so close that I can count the tiny flecks of black in his light eyes through his glasses. So close that I can smell the whiskey on his breath from the drink he had earlier.

I can also taste it on my tongue. So strong and such a damn turn-on.

I clear my throat. “You kiss me all the time. You don’t see me asking you why.”

“It’s different when I do it. My purpose is to claim you. What’s yours?”

I lift my chin. “Maybe it’s to claim you, too.”

A smile lifts his lips—it’s gradual and big and so gorgeous, I wish I could take a picture of it so I can stare at it whenever I please.

Viktor knocks on the window, and Kirill finally releases me and steps out of the car, but not before he gives me a weird look.

My leg is better, though the limping isn’t gone. The moment we’re in the house, a huge confetti bomb pops and Karina shouts, “Happy Birthday, Kirya!”

Viktor, Yuri, Maksim, and Kirill all stop. Though Yuri and Maksim were in on this and helped Karina and me with the preparations, they’re still Kirill’s guards and will abandon the ship if he so much as hints at any form of disdain.

The man of the house stares at the festive-looking table and the decorations on the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor. Anna went all out and prepared dishes that could feed the entire house for a few days. To the side of the feast, a huge birthday cake with Kirill’s name on it sits majestically on a wheeled cart.

“I had it specially made,” Karina chatters on when he shows no sign of approving or disapproving the situation. “They almost ruined it on the way here, but it was saved last minute! Anna made a lot of food, and we can invite everyone if you want, except for Yulia since, you know…”

She trails off when I limp to her side and hug her by the shoulder. She’s wearing a cute pink dress with tulle and matching nails and pumps. She even had her hair done up as if it were her own birthday party.

“Karina went to a lot of trouble for this,” I offer in a careful tone. Because he’s looking a bit displeased, and I can’t have him break his sister’s heart.

“Sasha, too,” Karina says. “And Anna. We wanted to surprise you.”

A moment of silence falls over the hall before he strides to his sister. She stiffens for a moment, but then he kisses the top of her head. “Thank you, Kara.”

She grins like an idiot. “You’re welcome!”

He side-hugs Anna as a form of thanks, and she smiles like a proud mama. Kirill merely pats my shoulder on his way to the head of the table and leans in to whisper, “So this is why you wanted to come home.”

I nod.

“As I said. You could’ve told me.”

I could’ve?

Has he seen himself in the mirror? Who would dare disturb His Majesty about something as trivial as a birthday?

I don’t get to say anything as he pulls his chair out. The rest of us follow, and Maksim calls the rest of the guys after Kirill allows it.

Chatter and laughter echo around the table, even though Kirill says little to nothing and only when Viktor, who’s sitting at his right, engages him.

Karina is on his left, and I’m beside her, listening to how excited she is and that she couldn’t sleep last night.

The entire time, I steal glances at Kirill. I don’t know if he’s okay with this or just pretending for the sake of Karina and Anna.

The general laughter and clinking of plates stop when Yulia and Konstantin walk into the party. She’s wearing black today as if it’s a funeral and stomps her foot on the floor upon seeing the guards at the dinner table.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Karina turns and clears her throat. “It’s…uh…you…see…today is…well, Kirill’s…birth…”

“Get it together, you idiot. Don’t you know how to form sentences?”

Tears gather in Karina’s eyes before they stream down her delicate face. Her lips clamp shut, and all her carefree energy disappears.

“Mother, no.” Konstantin shakes his head.

“What? She was talking like an idiot.”

“You’re the one who turned her into what she is.” Kirill rises to his full height and holds Karina by the shoulder. “If you talk to her in that tone again, I’m going to throw you out of the house.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“I have full ownership of this place. If you don’t respect my people in it, you’ll be out in a fucking instant and I’ll make it my mission to burn each and every one of your designer bags.” He stares at his brother. “Take her away from here. I don’t want to see her face.”

Konstantin’s jaw clenches, but he starts to drag a fussy Yulia away. I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable with the way she spoke to Karina, too.

“How dare you kick me out? I’m the one who gave birth to you, you insolent piece of trash—”

The door closes behind them, and Kirill smiles down at Karina. “Don’t believe anything that woman says. Just because she gave birth to us doesn’t make her a mother, okay?”

She nods twice, smiling back, and even hugs him.

Then she pulls back to run to the other side of the room and brings back a huge black box wrapped in white ribbons. The present is a tailored tuxedo with gorgeous matching shoes and a dress shirt.

Did she spend a fortune on this? Definitely.

Anna also gives him her gift, a scarf that she knitted herself. The guys offer him cards with services he might ask of them on their days off—as if he can’t do that already.

Kirill smiles at that, but it disappears when he finds a similar card from me in the pile.

So I kind of had to do the same as the others in order to not stand out. Only Karina and Anna gave him personal gifts, after all.

There’s also a third gift, a luxurious watch that Karina swears isn’t from her, but she’s the only one in this house who’s rich enough to be able to buy it.

While they’re busy arguing about the watch and Maksim calling Karina humble, then Viktor hitting him and Yuri scolding him, I slip out of the dining room and head to the bathroom with a huge smile on my face.

Not to jinx it, but I think this birthday is a success.

After I finish my business, I wash my hands and freeze when I catch Kirill’s reflection in the mirror. He’s leaning against the doorframe, legs crossed, as he toys with the card I slipped him with the ones from the other guards.

“So this is all I get for a huge birthday that you nearly broke your leg to have me attend?”

I let the water drip from my hands into the sink for a minute, then face him while I dry them with the towel. “That card can mean many things. Use it wisely.”

“I have so many cards. What if I lose this special birthday gift?”

I grin. “Stop being an asshole. I actually got you another gift, but I couldn’t show it to you in front of everyone else.”

He raises a brow. “Another gift? Where is it?”

I bite my lower lip, then I unbuckle my pants. The sound of rustling clothes is so heightened in the silence that I nearly chicken out.

In one go, I lower my boxer briefs so that he can see the black ink surrounded by redness right above my pussy.

Kirill straightens, his expression turning into one of bewilderment as he walks up to me, grabs me by the hip, and gently touches his fingers along the Russian word.

Luchik’s.

“Fuck,” he lets out in a voice filled with awe. “When did you get this done?”

“This morning.”

“When you were supposed to be with Karina?”

I nod.

He narrows his eyes, and his grip tightens on my hip, his fingers digging into it. “Did a man ink your skin, Sasha? Did you let a man look at what’s fucking mine?”

“No, you caveman. It was a woman.”

“Name? Credentials? Location?”

“So you can cause her trouble? Absolutely not. But anyway. You didn’t tell me what you think? Do you…like it?”

“I love it. Should’ve engraved my name on you a long time ago, but it would have been done sloppily with a knife.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such a romantic.”

“I know.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“I know.” His gaze is still lost in the tattoo as he traces it back and forth.

I’m such a wimp. I had to take three strong painkillers before I could let the girl ink me. I’m never getting a tattoo again. I can’t understand how Kirill and the others have managed to have maps inked on their bodies.

“Now, I want to see it up close and personal while I’m fucking your brains out.” He grabs me by the arm. “Let’s go.”

“No.” I try to pull my hand free and fail. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a party for you, remember?”

“Party is over then.”

“Kirill, no. Everyone will be so sad.”

“Not my problem.”

“Okay, wait. Wait! If you stay for at least two hours, I’ll tell you my real birthday.”

He raises a brow. “One hour.”

“One and a half.”

“Deal.” He pauses. “When is your birthday?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Really?”

I nod.

He reaches into his jacket, then grabs my hand and clasps a stainless steel bracelet on my wrist.

“How…” I trail off.

“I’ve had it since last year and was only going to give it to you when you told me your actual birthday.”

“Have you…been carrying it on you all this time?”

“Maybe.”

Oh, wow. I think my heart is melting at his feet as we speak.

“It has a sniper rifle on it.” I touch the engraved image and then gasp at the writing in Russian. “And Sasha!”

“It’s also unisex.”

I hug him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

His arm wraps around the small of my back. “Happy Birthday, Solnyshko.”

Tears rim my eyes. I thought I would never celebrate my birthday again, but Kirill has proved me utterly wrong.

I want to celebrate all my upcoming birthdays by his side.