Page 47 of Untamed Beast
Yelling starts, some in Russian, some in other languages.
The next bullet skims off the concrete floor before ricocheting against the metal walls.
Pop.
I don’t see where this one goes. Panic has me frozen to the spot. In the next moment, it seems that everyone else has drawn a gun or thrown themselves to the ground, leaving me an obvious target, standing in the same spot. Staring at Aleksandr.
My eyes meet a vortex of furious midnight blue.
With a thud, a heavy weight hurtles towards me and knocks me to the concrete ground. I gasp in a breath and I’m surprised to find that I’m not injured. No bullets, no stab wounds. Instead a voice hisses three rough Russian words in my ear.
“Stay down, idiot.”
It’s Aleksandr. He’s breathing hard. There are more gunshots, but all I can focus on is the heat of him next to me and the clean, strong smell of his sweat. His arm is wrapped around my waist, his hand splayed against my stomach. I’m shaking, but it’s not from fear.
I can barely pay attention to the gunshot happening above us with Aleksandr just an inch to my right. He’s so close that I can feel his chest rising and falling against me with every breath. He’s pulls me closer to his side, his hand iswrapped in the fabric of the hooded jacket I took from his wardrobe.
My lungs feel tight, my pulse racing, and it’s not from fear.
When the noise subsides, I pop my head up, but a rough hand on the back of my head pushes me down to the ground again.
“Ow,” I say on instinct.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses in Russian, pressing a hand over my mouth.
I hear another bullet behind us and begrudgingly admit that Aleksandr was right. I guess he knows more about how to behave in a shoot-out than I do. Still, with his body protectively curled over mine, no part of me feels unsafe. In fact, I’d comfortably stay lying on this floor with Aleksandr all night.
It’s only when a familiar voice behind us says that everything’s clear that he rolls away from me, releasing my waist and getting to his feet. He offers me a hand up, then unzips my jacket, his hands pushing my t-shirt up to bare my stomach before releasing the hem again.
“W-what are you doing?”
He takes my arm and pulls it towards him, rolling it gently to look at every part of me.
“Checking for injuries.”
He makes a face when he looks at my forearms and knees. “You’re going to have bruises. Sorry.”
I don’t even know how to respond to that. Aleksandr Zhukov saved my life and he’s apologizing that my elbows might be sore tomorrow. He’s surprisingly tender as he checks me for injuries.
When he pulls my hood up and tucked my hair down the back of my neck, but not before glancing disapprovingly at the latex pants. I guess he’s decided to leave my fashion choices alone, because he doesn’t comment.
“Leks,” Yuri’s voice sounds from behind us. “It’s over. Did they get you?”
“Almost.” I think of the bullet which lodged in his opponent’s shoulder, exploding in a gush of blood, and start to feel dizzy.
“Yeah, Merc is getting that wound treated. Lot of blood, even for a fight night.”
It’s only when I turn away from Aleksandr to face Yuri that I realize that the floor of the warehouse is covered in bullets. There was a shoot-out here, and I barely noticed because I was so overwhelmed by Aleksandr’s presence. Chaos had broken out around us, but I had felt safe with him.
Yuri notices me under the hood of the jacket and narrows his eyes. “Hello darlin’. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
A muscle ticks in Aleksandr’s jaw and he snakes an arm around my waist again. “Haven’t you heard about Natalia’s enthusiasm for fighting?”
His voice is dry and sarcastic and Yuri gives a chuckle. I don’t understand how they can be so calm about the fact that Aleksandr just almost died.
Yuri nods his head at me. “Eventful night thanks to y?—”
“Did you clean everything up?” Aleksandr cuts him off.
