Russian Mountain Man: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 156) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Russian Mountain Man

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  RUSSIAN MOUNTAIN MAN

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 156

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  RUSSIAN MOUNTAIN MAN

  Haylie

  Spring break, Siberian style.

  I’d rather research the missing link in the mountains then get drunk on a beach. As soon as I’m alone in the woods, I can sense his eyes watching me as I get drunk on something else, his animal charge which fills the air between us.

  The Professor would be mad if I came back empty handed, but damn, if what I discover isn’t more of a distraction than bad weather, missing links or even avalanches.

  Nikolai

  Thirty years ago, the forest claimed me, it nearly killed me but it claimed me, gave me a new life from the one I thought I knew. I learned to live, to hunt and thrive in the wilderness, at one with nature and within the circle of life, but always missing that one thing all the other creatures had, that one thing they enjoyed at least once every spring season.

  A mate.

  As soon as I see her, I know she’s been sent for me, sent for me to claim and to breed.

  To claim as my own.

  But she brings something else with her, the memory from a dream.

  Am I a man, or a monster?

  I want to be her man, her mate.

  Together. Forever.

  *Russian Mountain Man is a SHORT insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Haylie

  Spring break for the newly graduated. What to do… Where to go…

  Siberia?

  Yes! I leapt at the chance back home...but now that I’m rattling to the snow studded surface in a freezing ex-military Russian chopper as it drops me off, I have some second thoughts. Okay, a LOT of second thoughts.

  Two Days.

  Dimitri mouths the words as he gives me the hand signal he’s ready for me to get off his bird. I’m not sure who’s older, the Soviet chopper or the Soviet Dimitri, but he sure can fly this thing, plus he’s the only one the professor trusts enough to take me all the way out here and pick me up once I collect the data for our biological survey.

  The packs of my own gear and the survey equipment looked big and heavy when they were loaded. As I stand back, shielding my eyes from the spray of melting snow and ice as the chopper lifts off, it all looks so small. Almost useless when compared to the huge wilderness that surrounds me.

  The thundering roar of the ancient chopper finally dies down and the remaining snow settles. I’ve been here before, with research teams led by the professor, but this is my first time flying solo on a field project. This time there’s something else I’ve never noticed before.

  The silence.

  Eerie silence.

  Closely followed by the alarming sensation that I’m being watched.

  I shiver, but it’s not from the chill in the air. There’s something watching me, I can feel it.

  The breeze shifts and I catch a scent. Not the woodsy, frosty fresh air scent, something else. Something different.

  It smells like a mix of herbs, smoky earth and… man.

  I tense up, telling myself not to be so paranoid. I’m a few hundred miles from anywhere on a map and in the thirty odd years the professor’s been using the research station’s cabin as a base, neither he or anyone else he’s taken with him has seen anyone or anything.

  Especially not the thing we’re supposed to be looking for, least of all another person.

  But I feel it again, more than I smell it. A sense of someone watching, someone studying me. An invisible signal, like a hand or fingers made of air, tracing the space around me, working their way towards me, across me. Inside me…

  I jump with a start, a small cry escaping me, and I’m shocked to hear the arousal in my own voice. I have a definite flooding of warmth to my center and feel the undeniable urge to touch myself for some reason, to display myself.

  For him.

  My heart’s pounding, with blood rushing through my ears as I turn around, shifting the furry flap of my cap to listen. But there’s only the sigh of the breeze across the half frozen wilderness. My other hand’s already covering my mound over my waterproofs, my whole hand trembling at the prospect of palm fucking myself right here in the woods.

  With no one watching?

  Whoever he is… he’s very good. Very hot… for someone who doesn’t even exist…

  I force a shudder this time, laughing to myself and physically shaking off my mood, jokingly slapping my own hand away from myself. I’ve been here all of two minutes and I’m already imagining strange mountain men who want to watch me touch myself?

  The professor would be very disappointed. But I file the fantasy away for later use.

  To be continued…

  It’s not early anymore, the antique chopper ride was long and looking up at the dimming sky, I know getting my gear stowed in the cabin and setting up base would be a whole lot smarter than greasing up my valley in the woods.

  I’ve never even looked at myself naked in the mirror...much, let alone done anything else, but something in that waft of scent from the woods… it sure has stirred something in me, in a good way. But not in a way that’s getting any work done.

  What would I know about how a man smells, anyway? The nearest I’ve been to any real man is in the pages of a book.

  Lugging one pack and then the second to the front of the cabin, I notice with a groan that the lean to out back is no longer visible.

  On closer inspection, the woodpile and fuel store usually underneath the little porch, protected from the weather and covered with heavy tarp? It’s more than no longer visible. It’s gone.

  What the fuck?

  Wood
pile, gone. Lean too. Same fate as the woodpile. Somebody’s used all the wood, then started using the damned cabin to keep warm.

  Probably trying to stay alive.

  The cabin has a bolt, but it’s never locked. Professor Lebedev always says that if anyone did find the place, they’d probably need a place to stay. Out here, even in early spring it gets to minus freezing at night.

  I curse aloud as I try and loosen the bolt across the door, frozen with rust and time. It’s been a while since anyone’s been out here, or so I’d thought.

  Idiot! Might have thought to circle the place in the chopper to see if it was still habitable…had firewood at least…

  With a snap and then a groan, the cabin door creaks open, and I can tell at once that there’s been visitors… of all kinds.

  No cobweb covered skeletons, so phew. But, there’s a lot of empty cans from the emergency food store and the ashes from all that premium firewood. I bought enough food for a couple of days, and the ground’s covered in frozen water, but damn, I’m gonna need some hard wood if I’m gonna keep warm tonight.

  There’s nothing for it, I have to go hunting for some firewood. I blow out a huge puff of condensation before I growl aloud. It’s enough to get here and set up for the night without having to go rounding up frozen, wet wood.

  At least they bolted the door when they left…

  I can hear Professor Lebedev’s polite sentiment as I do the same, bolt the door as I leave, off to collect wood which I’d have to do anyway, even if the professor was here.

  I don’t get twenty steps from the cabin when I stop dead in my tracks, the same unmissable scent is back, stronger than before and closer. I stifle a moan as it registers, sending a current right through my body, straight down to my happy center as well as some new place deep inside me.

  Scanning the snow I know it’s impossible for anyone else to be out here, there’s no footprints, but I do hope to find some of a different kind, if I’m going to get any work done that is.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Nikolai

  I used to think I’d run towards the sound of choppers, that I needed rescuing. The first season was tough, nearly killed me, but learning is fast in the wild and boy, did I learn. When I was younger I ran towards the sounds, calling out, shouting for help.

  Now I move the other way, and always keep silent.

  First thing I learned was to move away from people and their noise. How many animals rush towards people and all their crap?

  Not many.

  The sound of the chopper is rare, but not completely unheard of. There’s planes, choppers and even a few trappers who pass through these woods and up through the mountains. For me, it’s my spring forest. The winter one’s further south.

  I’ve seen it before, the chopper, but it’s always like something from a dream. Something I’m familiar with but never can quite remember how.

  Today, there’s something about it that interests me before it even lands.

  I can smell her.

  Like other smells from the outside world I can’t remember, this one’s like a hooked line with pot roast and mashed potatoes with gravy. All the smells and things I like, that I know my body likes are all wrapped up in one magical, mysterious scent and I just have to know what it is.

  Without hesitating, I make my way down from the clearing I’m in to take a closer look after hitching the deer I’ve taken recently up into the trees. The chopper came just in time, once I’ve already taken my food for the weeks ahead from the forest, but now I need to preserve it until I can come back for it.

  I know to keep my distance from people and their machines, which is hard for me because this smell, this scent, is dragging me to it whether I like it or not.

  It’s making me feel hot inside. Like I’ve just run up a hill or swam across a lake. Hot like the thermal springs when I fall asleep in the water.

  Warm inside, with an ache in my chest. An ache somewhere else too is starting, like a pleasing itch inside me which starts to grow, making me groan out loud. I wonder if I’m sick, suddenly feeling dizzy almost, but happy because of this new smell. This feeling.

  But there is a part of me that knows. Like the deer, like the bears in spring. I know this feeling. I finally have one coming to me now.

  Her. I know it has to be her…

  I get to where the chopper’s landed, and I feel this pain in my chest when I see her, a girl. I know what a girl looks like, I remember them and have even seen a few hiking through the woods over the years. I remember what people are, I just steer clear of them, but this girl. She’s different.

  A low growl escapes me as I see the chopper pilot, some old man, waving his hand, making her do all the work as she unloads her packs.

  My instinct is to run over, to help her, and to give that man a lesson in how to treat her right, but I have to stay hidden.

  I want to stay hidden. To smell her and watch her from a distance first. I don’t want to frighten her off, and I have to make sure she’s…

  Alone.

  I have to cover my own mouth, even over the noise of the chopper taking off. I want to howl out loud, signaling her that I’m ready and celebrating her coming to me.

  She’s beautiful, even with the puffy jacket and pants, hat and gloves, even through all that I can see her, I can sense her.

  I hear myself gasping, excitement and disbelief as I scramble to get closer while keeping quiet. Her scent is unmistakable. Like flowers and the air after the rain, but with something else, that something that’s giving me this feeling. A pounding in my ribs and ears, so loud and hard it feels like I can hardly think, because I can’t.

  All I can see is her, and I want her, I know I have to have her. I know that she’s been sent to me to be mine.

  I study her for a moment, waiting for her to move first, then I slowly and deliberately move myself upwind, seeing if she can sense me or if she’s just as ignorant as anything else on two legs that comes this way.

  She picks up on my scent. I watch her lifting her nose to the air then after a while I hear her cry out a little whimpering sound, watching as her hand hovers over herself. I feel my own organ straining against my pants and I fight to not make a sound. It’s such an intense feeling. Like fear, but in the reverse.

  A pleasant fear. The most overwhelming feeling I have is to go to her, to have her present herself to me and to taste her for the first time, I can tell from here that she’s ready, we both are. I just know it.

  I want you… I want to see and smell you up close. I want you to show me what you have there, down there in that special place.

  I can feel my thoughts being sent to her on the breeze, knowing that she’s feeling the same excitement I am, knowing that she needs me, that I have to claim her before somebody else does.

  Then she’s gone.

  I’m lost in my mind picturing what I want to do to her body, and then she’s gone. Her tracks show beside the cabin, then inside it.

  I listen hard, not for her, but for anything else, any sign or signal of danger to my mate. I have to watch her now, to make sure she stays safe, until I can get close enough. Close enough to…

  Well. I just need to stay close to her, that’s what all my instincts are telling me.

  I wait, what feels like a whole day, but it’s only minutes, I’m cold again, but seeing her as she steps through the door, I get warm all over and happy inside. Another second not knowing where she was and it felt like something in me would burst.

  It’s getting late but now she’s walking away from the cabin, far away. Not good.

  I know just from looking, she can’t manage in the wild, most two legger’s can’t. Plus she’s heading in the wrong direction, straight for trouble.

  I have to follow her, not just to keep track of her scent now, but to keep her safe.

  Mine.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Haylie

  I’m no dummy when it comes to certain things. I’m a god damned college grad, and
I have years of field research under my belt… sorta.

  A little bit.

  Alright, it’s my first time out in the woods alone, let alone freakin’ Siberia and I’m terrified. Now, there’s no damned wood to cook or keep warm by and I can still feel eyes on me, like that feeling you get when you’re convinced someone’s following you.

  When I stop and focus I just get that crazy, pent up frustrated feeling again, like I wanna get down on all fours and do something really filthy. Yank my waterproofs down and spread myself wide open, waiting for him to…

  Stop it! There’s nobody following you Haylie, least of all some super-hot guy who just happens to be roaming the Siberian Mountains. Stay focused and just find enough firewood for tonight, you can sort everything else out in the morning.

  The distant howl of wolves far off sends a shiver up my spine, reminding me of the urgency to find dry wood and get back to the cabin.

  The reply howl of a lone, very big sounding wolf nearby stops me in my tracks. It’s so close, I can feel the vibrations of the sound traveling up through my body.

  My first instinct is to run, but I remember that Professor Lebedev always told us to never run in the wild and to only lie completely still if we were ever in any real danger. If that’s true, my life must be filled with constant danger.

  I never run, and I almost always lie completely still, given half a chance.

  But there’s something else in the wolf’s howl that gives me a different kind of shiver, and I associate the scent and feeling I had earlier with it.

  I’m not out here researching wolves, and if there is a pack around, they’ll ruin my chances at getting accurate data about my real subject, which is just as much fantasy as my mountain man theory at present.

  The Yeti, or missing link, whatever you want to call it. Every remote mountainous region has their own myth and semi-scientific explanation of the same sort of thing, but Professor Lebedev has concrete evidence, his own eyewitness testimony. So here we are to back it up, to find irrefutable proof that there is indeed a missing link or Wildman type creature, roaming the Siberian Mountains.