Brat Tamer Novels & Stories

Why wasn't he scared? Was he trying to make me go through with my threat? I'm not sure I have the stomach to hurt anyone, much less Dimitri, the leader of the Bratva and head of the Gusef family. “What exactly is your plan, Malen'kiy kotenok?” Little Kitten. Dimitri asks in a soft tone. “I plan on forcing you to let me go. And I will hurt you if you don't comply.” I say through clenched teeth, angry that he might find out that I wouldn't really hurt him.

For a little while, it felt like any other December afternoon — warm lights, cinnamon air, laughter echoing from every store, packages in both hands. Beth took Storm to the game store and got quarters. He loves the motorcycle one, he rides with her. At the same time, I shopped for his gifts. **** Bram sat at the table, drink in hand, as he watched TV in his lifeless, cluttered home. His phone buzzed with a text message, “It is done.” His smile was deliberate and wicked as he read the message, it was too easy. “I don't need the fucking counsil to get to them.” He smiled, sipping his mixed drink.

“Whoever it lands on picks truth or dare. No backing out, no killjoys. Got it?” One by one, they joined—Aizer, Jayce, Zandrei. “Drake, Brent! Don’t just sit there looking cool. Get over here!” Sean hollered. Brent raised a hand lazily. “Pass. You know I’m allergic to your chaos.” He plopped down beside Katriz, who sat by the pool, pouting. “Hey! Why can’t I play?” she whined. “Because you’re a kid, Katriz!” Jayce barked.

Milos tells me. Fear twists my gut at him knowing why I’m really going. “No, I’ll go to my doctor. A mafia doctor is—” “She isn’t. She treats my mother and our female staff when needed. You will not see the Bratva doctor. He is for gunshots, stab wounds, and the like. No man is allowed to touch you, even if they need to treat you. The only reason he did that time was because your treatment mattered more than a man touching you and seeing you naked.”

'Ok, what do we know?' I ask my men as they sit around our meeting table. Rory opens his laptop and shows the Bratva Principessa walking into the Houston Animal Centre wearing tight jeans and a backpack. She looks very young, with her stunning blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail and no make-up. 'She's doing her Intern Credit here at the Centre. Been attending for a week, and she'll be there for another three. If you want to take her, this is going to make it easy; she has two guards, and they are keeping it very low-key.'

Like this, he wasn’t a fierce Mafia man but more like any other parent distressed about his child. “Martin?” He turned toward me belatedly, dealing with orders for a couple of men. He was a person of authority around here. Not like Anatoli was, but Martin ran the orderliness of the Marcelli building and Anatoli’s residence. He was the Fatima of the floor here, like the charge nurse at the hospital managed the emergency department’s function. “Yes?” he asked, polite and formal but showing the wear and tear of distraction. “Can I do anything to help?”

I just fell asleep from exhaustion. I let out a bitter, hysterical laugh that echoed weirdly against the cold stone walls. Of course, it was a dream. Kei was a Beta, my stern, strict tutor hired by the King to correct my posture and ensure my lessons were flawless. He was a man of logic, history books, and discipline, not a rogue Omega assassin with a crimson brand of my initials seared into his flesh.

She did not look up. The tray was set at her feet and the man crouched low to slide on a pair of latex gloves which made her skin ripple with discomfort just by seeing them. He was no older than forty, with hair that greyed at the roots and features that held an imperturbable expression as he gestured for her to lower her hands. Alessia didn’t move. “Drop them, Omega,” the Alpha ordered. Drawing in a shallow breath, she realised she didn’t have a choice. She gritted her teeth and slowly lowered her arms, struggling to ignore the cool air that assaulted her chest.

This was an year old picture of him standing topless for the playboy magazine. "Now what the hell is wrong with her?" Troy frowned and then walked out of the office instantly, wiping away the sweat from his forehead. The only person Troy was afraid of was his grandmother, Mrs. Herarld Dawson, his only living family. Troy was closest to her grandmother ever since he was born and perhaps that is why she was the only person who could control the untammed tiger.