UNLEASHED — His Tsaritsa

You don’t kiss your backup. That’s the first rule of survival. But when the explosion ripped through the diner, throwing me against the brick wall, rules were the last thing on my mind. I expected shrapnel. I expected pain. Instead, I felt him. Nikolai covered my body with his own, taking the blast meant for me. A man worth billions, the Pakhan of the Bratva, using his own back as a human shield for a dog trainer who pointed a gun at him just yesterday. When the dust settled, his shirt was shredded, his skin bruised, but his eyes? They were burning with a rage that wasn't directed at me. It was directed at the world for daring to touch me. "You idiot," I hissed, my hands shaking as I checked his vest. "You could have died." "I'd do it again," he growled, pressing his forehead to mine. "Every time." That’s when I broke the rule. I kissed him. Not because I wanted to thank him. But because the adrenaline screaming in my blood told me he was the only thing solid in a world trying to kill me. He wasn't just my client anymore. And he definitely wasn't just backup. He was the monster who would burn the city down to keep me warm. And God help me, I was letting him in.