THEA SMITH- an innocent godess gets trapped in the web of the satan himself- YAROSLAV ZOLNEROWICH the Pakhan of Russian Bratva
He got obsessed with Thea when he got the first glimpse of her, believing that an angel from heaven itself descended, sear...
Yaroslav stood by the side of Thea's bed, watching her sleep. The moonlight poured through the window, casting a soft glow on her peaceful face. She stirred slightly, but her breathing remained slow and steady. He exhaled quietly, trying to calm the rising heat in his chest as he knelt beside her, his fingers hovering just inches from her skin.
Her beauty captivated him—there was something about the way she looked so innocent, so unaware of everything, that pulled him in deeper. He couldn't resist brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, letting his fingers linger for just a second longer than necessary.
His touch was light, and she didn't wake. He smiled softly, telling himself it was just concern—just a need to make sure she was okay after everything. But his heart pounded harder as his eyes traced the curve of her lips, wondering what they would feel like beneath his own.
She shifted again, a small sigh escaping her lips, and Yaroslav quickly withdrew his hand, his breath catching. He stood, quietly retreating to the shadows of the room, his eyes never leaving her form. He'd wanted to protect her for so long—his desire to keep her safe growing into something far deeper, something he couldn't fully control.
But she didn't need to know that.
As Thea stirred again, Yaroslav quietly slipped out of the room, a soft smile on his lips. "Goodnight, butterfly," he whispered before disappearing into the darkness, leaving her blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside him.
He slid into his room, his movements calculated and quiet, the silence of the house wrapping around him like a cloak. But inside, Yaroslav's mind was anything but calm. The moment he stepped across the threshold, his thoughts were consumed by her—his butterfly.
He couldn't stop picturing her, asleep just across the hall. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the delicate curve of her waist, her smooth legs stretched beneath the sheets. Every detail of her haunted him, but it was her slender neck that tempted him most—the perfect canvas, waiting for his claim. His fingers twitched, aching to trace the line of her throat, to leave his mark on her soft skin.
A fire burned low in his chest, dark and primal. It wasn't just desire—it was possession. The need to make sure she knew, once and for all, who she belonged to. He wanted her branded by him, in every way possible. A quiet hunger gnawed at his insides, urging him to act, to take what he already considered his.
His jaw clenched, the restraint tightening around him like a vice. Not yet. He had to be careful. But the thought of her sleeping so innocently, so unaware of the pull he had over her, only made the craving stronger.
"Soon, my butterfly... soon," he whispered to himself, the words a dark vow he would see through. His hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles white against the tension of holding back.
But for now, he would wait. Patience had always been his strongest weapon, and when the time was right, she would understand. She would know that she had always been his—long before she could ever realize it herself.
With one last glance toward her room, Yaroslav closed his door and let the darkness of the night settle over him, his thoughts already lost in what was to come.
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Thea awoke to the gentle patter of rain easing into a light drizzle, the early morning light filtering through her curtains. She stretched, the lingering warmth of sleep still in her bones, when a soft knock on her door startled her.
"Come in," she called, her voice a little groggy.
The door creaked open, and Yaroslav stepped inside, his tall frame filling the doorway. He was already dressed, his sharp black coat draped over his arm, his presence unexpected but somehow comforting.
"Good morning," he said softly, his lips curving into a faint smile.
"Morning..." she blinked in surprise, still not fully awake. "You're up early."
He chuckled lightly. "I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."
"Leaving?" Thea asked, sitting up, her sheets pooling around her waist. She glanced toward the window, seeing the rain had let up. "Oh, the weather's cleared?"
He nodded. "It's time for me to head back, unfortunately."
For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them, the weight of his gaze settling on her. Thea shifted, brushing a hand through her messy hair, feeling oddly self-conscious under his calm, observant eyes.
"Did you sleep well?" Yaroslav asked, taking a step closer.
"Yeah, actually. Better than usual," she said with a small smile, stretching again. "I guess the storm helped."
His eyes softened, as if hearing that brought him some quiet relief. "Good. I'm glad."
There was something unspoken hanging in the air, and Thea wasn't sure what it was, but it felt warm, comforting. Yaroslav's gaze held hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw something more in his eyes—a tenderness she hadn't noticed before.
He moved closer to the bed, his hand resting on the back of a chair beside her. "Before I go, I wanted to thank you... for your kindness. Last night was... nice," he said, his voice low and sincere.
Thea smiled, feeling a bit shy under the weight of his words. "It wasn't a big deal. You're always welcome here."
He hesitated for a second, then reached out, brushing a thumb across her cheek, the touch feather-light, as if testing a boundary. Thea's breath hitched, her skin tingling under his touch, though she remained oblivious to the deeper emotions driving his actions.
"I'll miss this," he murmured, his thumb lingering for a moment before pulling away, his hand falling back to his side.
Thea's heart fluttered at the soft intimacy of the gesture, though she wasn't sure why. She wasn't used to being touched so gently, so.... thoughtfully.
"You'll be back, right?" she asked, her voice coming out softer than she intended.
His lips twitched into a small smile. "Of course. Sooner than you think."
As he stepped back, Thea stood, instinctively reaching out. "Let me walk you out," she offered.
He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. "No need. Your father is still asleep, and I prefer to slip out quietly."
Thea raised an eyebrow, amused. "Sneaking out, huh?"
Yaroslav smirked, his eyes twinkling in the morning light. "Something like that."
She watched as he moved toward the door, her chest tightening slightly. There was something about the way he carried himself—something calm, yet intense—that made her heart feel both safe and unsteady at the same time.
Before he stepped out, he turned to her one last time, his voice a low murmur. "Take care, Thea."
"You too," she replied, her smile softening as he disappeared down the hall.
The house felt strangely quiet after he left, but a warmth lingered in the air, making her heart beat just a little faster than usual.
I couldn't control, so there you go a triple post😁😁
