ESSENCE OF FEAR
by Bethany-Kris
A Boykov Bratva Novel
Publication Date: June 22, 2020
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime,
Erotic Romance, Standalone
#KU #EssenceofFear #BoykovBratva #OrganizedCrime #MafiaRomance #BethanyKris #RussianMafia
#KU #EssenceofFear #BoykovBratva #OrganizedCrime #MafiaRomance #BethanyKris #RussianMafia
The allure of fear is learning to love it.
Viktoria Boykov has heard it all—cold they call her. The spoiled bratva princess. She knows very well what people say when her back is turned. She doesn’t mind; let them talk. It’s better for people to assume what they want about her than for them to know the truth … until him.
Pavel Kotov knows what people say—death they call him. The Boykov dog. He’s heard all the whispers locked away in the cells of the Compound. As the reaper for the bratva, his life owned by someone else, he knows what they say doesn’t matter. His life has never mattered … until her.
He’s terrifying.
She’s terrified.
Viktoria only wants to keep running from her past. Pavel doesn’t have a life to run from. Freedom is the one thing they both crave—for entirely different reasons. But this life is vicious, and scars like the ones they wear will never fade.
Together, they could have everything.
Or are they just pawns to a bigger game?
*
Note: Essence of Fear is a Boykov Bratva standalone.
Amazon: https://geni.us/
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/37G0KD3
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2Naixsn
EXCERPT:
He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing.
It kind of shocked her that her initial reaction was not to keep walking; to pretend like she hadn’t seen Pavel at all, and go about her day. It wasn’t like on any other day she would stop to admire some strange man alone in a grocery aisle.
Oh, the nerves were present. The anxiety thrummed deep and the fear teased at her senses. Still, she watched him.
He put one card back, and then picked another out from the top row. Flipping it over, he read something on the back, and his brow dipped in the cutest way. The week before, when she had done his tattoos, he’d been wearing black jeans that molded to his ass and thighs, a plain black tee, and a leather jacket. He had the same wardrobe today, except the tee was white.
She wondered why in the hell he was here—she knew about the elusive Zhatka. Reaper, they called him. Sure, she hadn’t known his face, and that he was the one they talked about when the name Zhatka passed their lips. But she’d heard about him. She’d heard the whispers; the ones that said he was owned by the Boykovs and hadn’t left the Compound’s property in years.
She knew he was dangerous.
She heard those whispers, too.
Was it all true?
If it was, the last thing she should want to do was head down the aisle and ask him if he needed help because he looked like he had never seen a greeting card before in his life. Another war started in her head—leave or go, basically. She had just decided to keep going when all at once, Pav lifted his head and looked her way. His gaze landed on her, and she swore there wasn’t even a hint of surprise when he looked at her.
Like he knew.
She’d been there the whole time.
Well, there goes leaving.
She could leave, actually. She could go without saying hello. She never cared before if someone thought she was a bitch because she looked them right in the face one second, and then walked away from them without any kind of acknowledgment in the next.
Still, her legs worked on their own accord. Before she knew what was happening, she had turned her cart and headed down the aisle toward Pav. Something akin to a smile curved the edges of his lips, but she couldn’t be sure if that’s truly what it was. It looked slightly darker, and far sexier than just a smile. She didn’t know if he meant for it to come across like that, but it did.
That was even more problematic for her.
This man terrified her.
She didn’t need him turning her on, too.
Yep, she was a mess.
“Viktoria,” he greeted quietly.
Now that she thought about it, his voice was kind of like his smile, too. Dark and husky. Yet, quiet and low at the same time. In all their conversations so far, she hadn’t once heard him raise his tone and he spoke just below a normal level when he did talk.
Strange …
And she liked it.
“Pavel,” she returned, “you look a little lost.”
He frowned and turned back to the card in his hand. “This is not suitable for a … generic congratulations, is it?”
Pav held out the card for her to look at, and she did all she could do not to grin or God forbid, laugh at him. He seemed dead serious, and that just proved to her in a way that some of the whispers about him were probably true.
He hadn’t been out of the Compound very much.
How sad was that?
“Unless you’re congratulating them for the death of a pet, then no,” she replied.
Pav blinked, and quickly put the card back to the row. “Oh. I just picked ones that looked nice. I didn’t read the insides.”
“Did you read the words on the outside?”
He shrugged. “They’re platitudes. They don’t actually say anything, do they? Generic. Boring. Meaningless. They’ll be tossed in the garbage before the night is out, I assume. That’s what I would do with them if someone ever thought to buy me a card to congratulate me on something that was obvious.”
She had no idea what to say to that.
He wasn’t wrong, though.
“What is the card for?” she asked.
Pav hummed under his breath and eyed her from the side. “A party to celebrate something beautiful.”
“So, you really do need a generic card?”
“I suppose.”
It took her all of three seconds to find a generic card with the usual congratulations stamped on the front, and the usual platitudes on the inside. She grabbed the matching envelop, and handed it over to Pav, too. He took them with the same smile as before.
“There you are.”
She turned to walk away, but it was his hand quickly curving around her wrist that stopped her. She froze all over, and a small tremor worked its way through her sinew. Air sucked fast and sharp into her lungs.
At the same time, she enjoyed the warmth of his palm against his skin. She liked the way his fingers tightened against her skin, and the pressure of his fingertips pressing into her racing pulse point. There was no way to hide the way his touch both terrified her and confused her.
Excited her.
Viktoria looked back at Pav but said nothing.
He quirked a brow. “I was going to say thank you.”
She nodded. “You don’t have to.”
Now, let me go.
The words came out in her mind, but not out of her mouth. She wanted to say them, and she didn’t want to say them at the same time.
How strange …
“Da. I was going to say it, but now I want to say something else.”
Viktoria wet her bottom lip, muttering, “So, say whatever it is, then.”
“You’re still scared of me?”
She blinked.
Her mouth worked, though.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“The same reason that everyone else scares me, Pav.”
He tipped his head to the side. “But do you approach them like you do me?”
“No.”
He nodded, and then let her go.
Viktoria swallowed hard, pushing back her fear. “You know, you should get out of the Compound more often.”
Pav’s gaze darted back to hers. “Why?”
“You look good out in the light like everyone else.”
Pretending to be normal. Acting like you fit in. Just like me.
He did smile that time.
Wide and beautiful.
Sinful, even.
She wondered if he could read her mind.
Was that possible?
“Except I’m not like everyone else, Viktoria.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, me either.”
ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS:
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD
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