The Mafia's Kidnapped bride by Susanbluemoon93

The past five years ago, Aribella, age 15 and Nikolai, age 29 Ari should have known it would end this way. It was the same story over again; a new home, new family, but the same problems... Feral fellow foster kids who cope with their emotional baggage by picking on the weaker kids and the new kids, check. A thieving roommate who tries to steal what little possessions she had that were crammed into bin bags, check. A new school where she was the 'new kid' again and had to face off with Botox barbie cheerleaders and alpha a-hole wannabe jocks, check. A handy foster dad that undressed her with his creepy stares every time she walked into a room and didn't know the meaning of personal space, check. An uninterested foster mum who ignored her husband's unhealthy and creepy interest in the girls under their care and the bruises covering the boys in her and her husband's care, in favor of claiming the monthly check the state gave her for housing unwanted kids... check. And of course, as usual, the list was complete with an overworked, uncaring support worker who had dumped Ari on her newest foster home's front porch three weeks ago, before running back to her car shouting the usual sentence, that every foster kid knew she didn't actually mean of "Call me if there's any problem's, I will check in on you soon." It was a never-ending cycle of new foster homes, new abuse and new trauma that Ari was sick of. At first, she had foolishly hoped, against her better judgment, that this home would be different. It was not a mold-ridden, cramped property situated in a sketchy neighborhood. It wasn't packed to the max with foster kids, with the foster parents' priority being to claim as many state checks as possible over the kids' privacy, dignity and comfort, and the parents actually seemed nice. The parents were a couple in their 40s who neither had signs of drug nor alcohol abuse. Both were regular church attendees who did regular charity work. The mum stayed at home and the dad was a police officer and an upstanding member of the community who coached baseball on the weekends. They lived in a modest semi-detached house, in a good working-class safe neighborhood. They had a garden that had a kids' play set and hosted community cook-outs. It was a foster kid's dream come true. For the few weeks, Ari had been living every foster kid's dream (minus the normal thieving roommate and bullying from older kids). She was living in a safe, non-abusive home. She was fed regularly, had no worries about when her next meal would be or what she would be expected to do to earn it. And her latest foster parents had been kind, helping her with homework and encouraging her to join social clubs at her new school. That fantasy of safety, however, started to fade after three weeks, when her foster dad's stare lingered longer and began to change from a caring parental figure into the lust-filled gaze of a predator. The safe illusion shattered completely this evening, with things escalating dramatically. Her new foster dad, fueled by the alcohol he consumed (during his monthly boys work night out) and his wife's absence (she was visiting her sister for the weekend in another state), decided to sneak into her room tonight and told her, "you have been teasing me for three weeks now, and now I am going to take what you've been flaunting." Despite being a virgin (a miracle considering how many handy foster dads and brothers she had survived), Ari had been in this situation before and knew exactly what he intended, so when her foster dad jumped on top of her and tried to pin her to the bed, she pulled out the knife she slept with from under her pillow and stabbed him before grabbing the emergency bag hidden under her bed and escaping out the house to safety. Well, as safe as New York could be at 3am for a fifteen-year-old on her own, barefoot, dressed in a tank top and figure-hugging leggings. Ari had walked for about an hour before finding herself in front of a run-down-looking 24hour diner. Feeling the cold beginning to numb her toes, she decided that potential food poisoning was the least of her problems, so she dashed inside out of the cold. After a quick trip to the restroom, where she patched her bleeding feet and cleaned herself up as best she could, Ari found a quiet booth in the corner before she sunk into the surprisingly comfortable and less sticky than she thought seating, ordered a bitter black coffee and sipped it slowly as she tried to think about her next steps. Once the memory of her foster dad's attack stopped playing in her mind on a loop, she managed to form a plan of sorts. She obviously couldn't call the police, her foster dad being a cop and all. The police would either not believe she had stabbed him in self-defense or wouldn't care and would cover the truth up to protect him — either way, if she went straight to the police, she knew, it wouldn't end well for her, so that left one option left to run. It wasn't the first time she had slept on the streets. Sometimes it was safer than sleeping under the roof of predators. Every foster kid learned that the hard way. She knew, however, she couldn't stay in New York, not whilst her foster dad had the whole police force to help him find her and seek to silence her or get revenge. With her mind made up, Ari downed her coffee, paid her bill and asked her server for directions to the bus station before she walked into the cold evening air. A few blocks later, Ari was nearing the bus shelter when she heard a soft moan coming from an alley. Common sense told her nothing good happened down dark alley's and there was nothing down there but trouble. Despite her common sense screaming at her to run to the safety of the bus shelter, Ari's soft heart urged her to go see if she could help. Carefully avoiding stepping in the piles of broken glass in her bare feet Ari cautiously crept down the foul smelling alley, towards the sounds of pain filled moans. Perhaps it's an injured animal ? she thought, quickening her steps at the thoughts of an animal in distress. As she rounded a corner, however, she froze. Laying a pile of blood, curled in a protective ball was a man. Even curled into himself, Ari could tell he was the tallest man she had seen and as the dim pre-dawn light landed on him, Ari could tell he was handsome too. She didn't know how handsome, however, until he moaned in pain again and she, without thought, wandered closer to help automatically. As her shaky hand reached to help, the man suddenly uncurled as if sensing her presence and his confused gaze landed on her as his strong hand grabbed her wrist and pulled Ari closer. They stared at each other and the world around them seemed to fade. The man was a startling combination of masculine beauty with soft-looking dark curls that covered his sea-blue eyes, tanned skin, sharp cheek bones, thick kissable lips and rugged stubble, that sat on a thick masculine jaw. He was gorgeous. His stunning eyes, however, looked a little dazed, and his sudden hiss of pain as he lifted his large, blood-covered hand to caress her face snapped Ari out of her trance. Sucking in a panicked breath, she remembered he was injured and, by the dazed look in his eyes and bleeding cut on his head, possibly concussed. " You're hurt! Stay still. Stop moving right now so I can help you! " Ari ordered as she ignored the bleeding man's Sexy smirk and began to pull medical supplies from her emergency bag. " Bossy, Ptashka (Russian for little bird) aren't you? " The man mumbled in a sexy Russian accent as he reluctantly laid down to avoid dizziness that struck him suddenly. " I am no one's little bird! But at least you can follow orders." Ari snapped as begun to patch the stranger up and tried to ignore how his accent seemed to make her pulse quicken and cheeks redden. " You speak Russian?" The stranger said, focusing on the conversation, and the girls gentle touch to avoid the dizziness and pain that surrounded him. " I speak a few languages. When you're a foster kid who moves around a lot, it's hard to make friends at school, so I spend most of my time in the school library. Reading also helps avoid drama at foster homes and language books were always accessible. " Ari replied shyly as she continued to wipe away blood with antiseptic wipes and patch the man up. " It's a good skill to have, and impressive. Is first aid another skill you picked up from your foster homes?" The man asked his tone edged with protectiveness and a darkness Ari didn't understand. "Yes, unfortunately," Ari replied, unable to keep the sadness from her voice. It was that sadness that made Nikolai slowly sit up. Once the dizziness began to fade, he stared at the girl kneeling in front of him to acces her properly. She was in a state of disarray, her waist-length blonde hair was wild and tangled, her beautiful green eyes were wide with innocence and fright, and rimmed with impossibly long and thick lashes that were wet from recently fallen tears. She was young, he noticed. Young, innocent and vulnerable. Dressed in what he assumed was Pyjamas, her tiny bare feet were tucked under her and wrapped in bloodied bandages, and she subtly shook from the cold and fear. At that moment, Nikolai stared at the girl and his cold heart began to crack open and thaw, he had never seen someone so beautiful, innocent and vulnerable, and he vowed at that moment that he would ensure no harm came to this girl ever again. She was his. Not in the way he wanted...not, yet she was too young, and he was a monster, but not that type of monster. He would protect, care for and love this girl from a distance until she was old enough to for him to claim her completely and give her the life she deserved. She had undoubtedly, judging by her appearance, been threw hell but she had no reason to be scared anymore, as he was the "Devil of New York" and she was now his, and he took good care of what belonged to him. " You are right you are no fragile Ptashka (little bird). And you do not need to be afraid anymore Moy Angyel (russian for my angel) because the Devil will protect you from any harm."