Glazov's Legacy (Born Bratva Book 2) Read Free

her to clean up our bloody messes.
    She became serious about the science in high school and took college courses after graduating at the age of fifteen. She is not only ruthless, but she is smart as well. I spare no expense with regard to the education of my top men’s children. Though there is very seldom a need because I pay my men extremely well, there have been times I have footed the bill for the education of a brother’s child. Natasha is a child born to a Bratva male in one of my cells, so aside from her college forensics education, she is trained in the art of killing as well. She also happens to be the childhood sweetheart of my eldest son, Nikita. Lately, she has been trying to fight the feelings she has for him because she works for me. I believe she is worried about the whole mixing business with pleasure thing. Like I do with everything else in my life, I’ll bide my time before making her an offer she can’t refuse. I won’t allow her to continue stringing Nikita along. Control is not always gained by using the brutal hand of force; sometimes it is achieved through shrewd calculation.



Chapter Four
    Kathleen
    I look up from the book I’m reading to see my husband entering the bedroom. His massive body fills the space in the doorway, so tall that he actually has to bend slightly to clear the frame. He eyes me as he stalks his way over to the bed, giving me that look like he knows I’ve done something wrong. It’s an expression I’ve grown accustomed to seeing over the years, so I set my book aside and watch for his next move warily.
    His eyes never leave me as he loosens his tie, moving his neck back and forth as he’s freed from its tight grip. His hands move with agile speed when he grabs both of my wrists, securing my hands with the tie that, just moments ago, served only as an accessory to complement his five thousand dollar suit.
    I see the flash of victory in his eyes before I say, “I haven’t done anything.”
    He leans in close to growl in my ear, and the familiar fear I’ve come to know with him sets my heart racing.
    “Liar! You permitted our son to go to the warehouse. Would you like to know what happened there today?”
    I frantically shake my head. I don’t want to hear the bloody tale about what happened to the man who’s been stealing from my husband.
    “You hide around corners and listen in on my business dealings, but you don’t want the details? How interesting, Ptichka.”
    I watch him as he slowly undresses and folds his clothing. He sets it all in a neat pile as if he has all the time in the world. First, he removes his suit jacket and dress shirt, and then it’s the knife strapped to his upper inner arm and gun holster. Next comes the ankle holster, and finally, his pants, socks, and shoes come off. When he is done, he stands before me with his cock jutting out and a knife in his hand, wearing nothing but a look of contemplation as he decides what to do with me.
    “After twenty years of marriage, you still underestimate me. I’m hungry for blood—your blood, Ptichka.”
    This is the reason why we have black sheets on our bed. This isn’t the first time his need for blood, my blood, has surfaced. My husband is a man with deviant sexual appetites, and he awakened a hunger in me only his brand of kink could appease.
    “You would do well to not lie to me,” he says as he straddles my body. Still holding the knife, he moves to loosen the tie on the silk robe I’m wearing, and I suck in air through my teeth when he purposely nicks my skin. Blood seeps from the small cut he inflicted as he slices through my panties. Now easily removed, he wads them up and stuffs them in my mouth.
    My body begins to dance beneath his. My arms are restrained by his tie and hooked to an iron spike on the headboard. The bonds, coupled with his weight pressing down on me from above, have rendered me completely helpless to him. He had our bed custom made to accommodate the various devices he