Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
LOCH
“She’s right next door to you?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve got eyes on her?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s safe?”
Nash, Alena’s dad, is busting my balls. I get it. He worries about her. He’s three hundred miles away and on my phone.
“Yes, I can see her eating spaghetti and talking to herself.”
Nash laughs, “She’s talking to Vale. They can’t go a day apart.”
And Nash can’t go a day without mentioning Vale. We all know he’s in love with his daughter’s best friend. Has been since Vale came home from college, but he won’t touch her.
Unfortunately for me, he enforces the same rule for his daughter.
“She’s fine,” I answer, standing in the dark, looking through binoculars. “You know Alena’s a grown woman and a badass. She can handle herself.”
“As a ranger, yes,” he agrees. “She was born for the job. But as our princess? She can’t ever know the risk she’s in. We’re lucky we’ve made it this long without shit going down, but I have a bad feeling it will.”
“Oh, it will.” I nod. “She’s gonna find out who you are. Who we are one day. So, you should just tell her because lies always hurt more than the truth.”
He huffs. “In those romance books you borrow from Delphine, sure. In real life? If Alena finds out who we are, she can be tortured for intel.”
“Even if she doesn’t know who we are”—it makes my pulse triple—“she can be kidnapped and tortured.”
“No,” he reasons. “She’ll be innocent, and they’ll realize she knows nothing, and maybe she’ll survive, and be let go. But if she knows who we are and spills under duress, she’s as good as dead.”
He’s got a point.
And it’s why I’m here, holding my binoculars.
“So, I just follow her around and let her risk her life in swift water rescues, but eating spaghetti at her dinner table, it’s on? I intervene?”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“You want a dumbass guarding your daughter?”
“No. I want you, my brother, guarding my daughter. So does The Queen, and so does our King.”
The Queen is my mom. Statues in Moscow’s Red Square should be erected in her honor. She’s true royalty, descended from the last Czar of Russia, and kidnapped by the head of the Bratva as his child bride.
My mom is the lioness who got us out of an abusive hell with our father.
I don’t remember it because I was a baby, but I hear the stories my brothers tell, and I’ve seen their scars. They have the trauma and nightmares, and I have guilt because I don’t.
Guess it’s a form of survivor’s guilt.
Maybe it’s why I’m so committed to my family. I gave up my dream of being a Marine so I could protect Alena. I wanted to go to a forest ranger school instead.
And if I ever change my mind?
There’s our King, my brother, Axel. He’s not the eldest, Sire is, but Axel was the designated Bratva heir. He’s in charge. Someone needs to be with seven beastly brothers.
Yes, we include Nash in the count. He’s not blood, but he’s like our brother. He’s been with us since he was a teenager, a year after Alena was born.
Nash and Axel are close; so close that my brother, Axel, is Alena’s godfather.
She thinks Axel’s a lawyer named Michael Cummings, and to the rest of the world, he is.
We all hide behind fake identities.
Nash is an accountant. That’s his cover and what Alena knows.
My brother, Sire, is her pastor. He met Nash in juvie, where both turned their lives around. Now, Alena and Nash are members of Sire’s flock. That’s all she’s privy to.
Grant and Jace are security experts. They guard the door at the exclusive sex shop where Alena’s best friend, Vale, is the manager.
Neither woman knows they’re my brothers too.
Nick is the NFL’s leading defensive lineman. He’s not only closeted Bratva; he’s gay and can’t come out. Alena thinks her dad is Nick’s accountant, not a sworn, secret brother.
And me?
I was told to stay away; I didn’t have a plausible connection to Alena until I became a forest ranger. A stranger to her until today.
But I think Axel, a.k.a. Michael can be a goddamn pit bull about protecting Alena’s innocence. Sometimes he’s worse than Nash. Axel’s always had a special bond with her.
For years, I was jealous of it. I wanted Alena to know me. I wanted to go with Axel to her birthday parties and holiday celebrations at Nash’s house.
But the rest of us brothers had to hide in the background. Hell, our names aren’t even real.
I wasn’t born Loch Waring.
My mom chose that name.
I was born Lyov Kholodov. The youngest son of Ruslan Kholodov, the head of the Russian Bratva, who named me “lion.”
And now our father lives like an evil villain, in my mind, conjured by my brothers’ stories. I have no memory of him, and that makes him worse because the scars he left on my brothers are very real and so is the guilt I have for bearing none.
“I got you, brother,” I assure Nash. “I know my job. I’m guarding her.”
“I want daily updates.”
“Copy.”
I turn toward the fridge for a beer, ready for Nash to end the call, but he adds solemnly, “And thanks, man.”
For all the shit we give each other, like with most men, it masks a deep love. It’s why we do this.
“You’re welcome, man.” I don’t need to say more and end our call.
Nash loves his daughter.
But…
So do I.
Sipping a beer, I watch Alena clean her dishes and turn off her kitchen lights before disappearing inside her bathroom.
Darkness falls over her studio cabin.
It matches mine.
It’s an open room with a kitchen and dining table on one side, and a bed, chair, and a flatscreen on the other.
A wall of windows opens onto the covered porch outside, while a few windows offer light and side views in the modern design.
That’s how I can see into her place. Only the bathroom and blinds provide full privacy.
Alena made it sound cute today, and I didn’t lie to her.
I am her stalker.
But I’m more.
With my binoculars, I turn on their night vision, the screen filling with shades of green as I scan the perimeter of her cabin, down the steep slope, and up the verdant ridge.
While Alena was at work today, I installed trail cameras around her cabin. Hunters use them to track game. If she finds them, she won’t be alarmed.
But if I find a human, not a bear, tripping their motion sensors, I’ve identified two spots on this mountain perfect for graves or an accidental fall over the rocks. Depends on whether I want to hear them scream.
I also let myself inside her cabin and installed a listening device under her nightstand. If she wakes up to an intruder, I’ll hear it.
I turned it off for my chat with Nash though.
I can’t decide when it’s okay to invade Alena’s privacy. Hacking her computer to make sure she’s not being targeted online? Never. She’s an adult and too smart for that shit. Turning on the hidden bug while I’m talking to her dad, or she’s talking to her friend? It doesn’t feel right either.
But when it’s just us?
And it’s her bedtime?
Here’s my conundrum.
When I was in her cabin, installing the bug, I knocked her nightstand drawer open, and my dick surged at the sight of way too many dildos and vibrators. Most were unused, in their boxes, though one lucky dildo was free.
Guess it’s Alena’s favorite.
And it’s big.
And I’m a flawed man.
Alena’s been a secret problem in my pants for years, and I just need to know if I have a chance with her.
Pressing the remote, I turn on the bug, the sounds of her bedtime routine lulling through my speakerphone. Brushing teeth. Glass lotion jars. A cute sneeze before the bathroom light dims, and sheets rustle as she settles into bed.
For ten long minutes, I listen to nothing but her silence and crickets chirping outside.
Look up pathetic in the dictionary.
What did I expect? That she likes a solo Southern romance like me? That she shares my love of dirty DIY?
I’m about to turn off my punishment… but she moves, and a drawer slides open.
Oh, shit.
Alena, are you…?
Oh hell, Loch, are you…?
Her moan fills my speaker, and my dick roars, “Yes, I am!”
Holy fuck. The soft sound of her pleasure makes my chest heave. Through the binoculars, I can see Alena’s silhouette, writhing under her bedspread.
My dirty girl, I know what you’re doing, and it must be with her big dildo because I don’t hear a telltale buzz.
But this is too far, right? It’s definitely crossing into pathetic-pervert territory, and I ca—
“Loch,” her voice pleads, and I growl so loudly in my cabin that I startle Mutt. He growls too.
“Fuucckk,” I groan because this means…
Alena wants me too.
This has been my fantasy for so long. My name, moaned over Alena’s lips, makes my dick swell so fast with blood that I get dizzy. Closing my eyes, I grab the countertop, gulping for breath.
For years, I didn’t exist to Alena, while she was my world. Was I in love or a loser? Definitely both because I lived in the hope of catching a glimpse of Alena.
It’s been a cruel storm of joy and pain, knowing she’s my soulmate because mine ached so fucking bad for her.
And now, in one day.
Alena’s starting to feel the same way about me?
Maybe.
Hopefully.
I can’t fuck this up. Turning off the speaker, I don’t need to hear more, see more. Unzipping my pants, I fist my swollen cock and close my eyes, doing what I perform every Saturday night online. I fuck Alena in my imagination for thousands of my OnlyFans to watch.
It’s not perverted or pornographic. It’s love. It’s survival. It’s what I have to do with this overwhelming instinct, this painful, primal urge I have for Alena. Protect. Kill. Claim. Breed. Mate.
Mine.
I am a lion. It’s in my blood; I can’t deny it. I was born to defend my mate, my territory, my pride. I’ll kill all rival males and guard my female and cubs. Ferociously, I’ll protect my lioness.
My Alena.