by Amarie Avant
The end of the Resnov Castles had been an easy compromise. I detested the entire sex trafficking business.
But her other two requests.
Nyet!
She appeared so innocent when requesting I let Volk—aka our president—live. And she’d been vulnerable when asking me not to seek revenge for our child.
But what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.
Killing the president had become a requirement the day we crossed paths. Though, I’ve consented to taking my time in that regard.
Killing any of Rudolf’s family who knew about him assisting my disease of a father in Anastasiya’s disappearance, that is my plan today.
Rudolf was a soldier of mine, Luka’s lover. He was also missing when Anastasiya needed him most four years ago. After leaving the Black Dolphin, his death by fire never satiated the beast inside of me. I tortured five of my byki, whom I considered loyal that day.
Now, I have an inkling one of his family members knows something. Has to.
I’ll own the death of an entire male lineage before I allow this new, brimming hate for him to rest. I’d let the youngest of Rudolf’s family leave and the women, not the whores. Whores talk. So, here they will stay, in addition to Rudolf’s closest in age siblings and his father. His mother died a few years back, so she’s granted her reprieve as well.
Rudolf’s actions caused the death of a sweet, little baby I never knew I had. A baby would have softened my soul. His deception with Anatoly and the Armenians will be unearthed all because this world spins on torture and mayhem. And Mikhail is here to help me do it.
He will learn the lesson of his life too.
Anastasiya is calling me, yet again. It’s as if she’s aware she made a bargain with the devil.
Condensation puffs from my lips as I shove my ringing cellphone back into my pocket.
I look up and say a prayer of sorts. Dah, you’re a mudak, Sim. However, this is for her. She will thank you once all is said and done.
The windows are at least fifteen feet from the ground, not offering an escape, not even relief from the mind. Sunlight scissors the air above, unable to touch down into the darkness.
Sticky blood is beneath my leather boots. I’ve taken off my shirt. Though I don’t mind the pretty, little red specks, my hobby has tired me out.
Faint sobs come from the figure crouching on the ground.
“You’re covering that hideous face?” I chuckle. “At the expense of me harming your spine. What’s more important? Your vanity or this here column.” I run my index finger down the man’s trembling spine. “Helped you walk when you were a wee boy. All those nerve endings are leading to the most important organ in your body. But conceit has exposed it. Mikhail!”
My cousin jumps at my side. Eyebrow cocked, I turn to look him up and down. He’s dressed from head to toe in a makeshift hazmat suit created from plastic bags. Our actions in Italy became less than nothing compared to this morning.
“You’re dressed for a ditch.” I assess his garb.
After dumping the first of Rudolf’s relatives, Mikhail took the plastic bags to cloak himself.
His lungs cave. “Well, I’m seeing an even more brutal side of my younger cousin. You’ve exceeded my expectations.”
I stare at him, unblinking. “Good.”
I crouch down to the trembling ball of terror. Whimpers float unheard across the room. Rudolf’s cousin is less than a man now, no pride, not an ounce of confidence. There’s not a flicker of faith behind his lost gaze.
With a shake of my head, I stand to my full height. When I place my hand on Mikhail’s shoulder, an underlying fear reverberates into my palm. “You may cease playing God. This one has no more stories to tell. No need keeping him alive.”
Mikhail starts back. My hand clamps into his shoulder. “But don’t you dare leave.”
“Simeon, this is—” Mikhail wrestles from my grip, his face sliding forward. Hands on his knees, he retches next to the cowering man’s face. An apology begins to lurch from his mouth. He can hardly turn around before another round compels him.
“Stop,” I bark at my cousin. I step away from the chunks of vomit marring such gorgeous crimson liquid. “Retrieve my dagger, Kazen.”
“I can’t! I’m a fucking ER doctor, Simeon. What we did in Italy was child’s play compared to this! This . . . this is a sacrilege of the basic human race.”
My fingers glide through Mikhail’s hair, and I yank him up. He punches out, but I slip the gun from inside my blazer out, nudging his chin. “I’ve given you the chance to fight me before, Mikhail. I’m already satiated. The dagger, please.”
My cousin glares at me.
I cock back the hammer. “My dear mother is the reason I said please. It’s instilled in me.” I let go of his hair and shove him away.
As if rousing awake, the cowering figure begins to beg, “Please!”
Ignoring the crying, I watch Mikhail dig through my black bag of delights. His arm jets away from the open bag, the tips of his fingers dribbling in blood as he mouths, “Fuck.”
I smile. “You think me a barbarian, don’t you?”
“Simeon, I’ve had it already with your antics.” Exerting more caution than before, Mikhail sifts through the bag. He fists a serrated knife and heads back over. Eyeing the gun I’m fisting in my hand, Mikhail hesitantly hands over the knife.
As the man on the ground continues to cry, the blade lunges into his spine. The begging dies out.
Now, my phone is ringing again. I rub a hand onto my slacks and answer. “Dah?”
Anastasiya groans. “Oh, thank God, you finally answered.”
“What is wrong?” I grit. Don Roberto Dominicci slams to the forefront of my mind. Before I slaughtered the Dominicci house, he’d inquired if there was a woman in my life. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I publicly declared my true love. Now, she’s calling, voice wrought. “What is it?”
“Your mother.”
Nyet. I wriggle my jaw.
“Sim, baby, Sofiya hurt herself again. I’m with her now.”
Eyes closed, I wipe the knife on my leg and place it back into the bag. “I’ll be there soon.”
Chapter 5
Anastasiya
“She’s manipulating you,” Luka had said. My brat gathered me into his arms when Simeon arrived, a devastated look on his face. Nobody but the two of us saw straight through Sofiya’s dramatics. Fog plumes around me, and my friend’s words dominate every corner of my psyche.
Luka and I left Simeon at his ailing mother’s side hours ago. I had expected him to return by now. The dual rain spouts of the shower fall like hot tears. I’m craving his arms around me. Knots tie in my stomach as the water pelts my skin, and I let Sofiya’s first taste of deception pull me under.
The room I grew up in after leaving the Resnov Castle had sweeping, ornate chandeliers. A rich wood canopy adorned the center. I’d say crystal trinkets cluttered the rest of the area—but there’s no such thing as cluttering a two-thousand square foot room. At almost sixteen, I had selective mutism, only speaking to my token friends.
I delighted in the times Simeon would come and read to me. He’d started off a million miles away, his strong voice carrying to me. He seemed to know my triggers, especially not wanting to be touched. By now, our platonic relationship left stars in my eyes.
But he hadn’t come to me this evening. Sofiya’s husband, the man Simeon called the epitome of weak, had left a while ago. Desirous moaning and shouting had ensued; Anatoly’s shouting, Sofiya’s grunting, and a bed carved of wood scraping across the ground of the third floor.
In frilly, lace pajamas that popped against my darker skin, I sat at the vanity. I clutched a silver brush in my hand. My thoughts were a whirl. It was easier to transport my mind elsewhere while the siblings went at it. I didn’t have the courage to question the Tsar and his sister.
The door burst open. Through the mirror, I watched Sofiya enter. A silk robe adorned her flush skin.
“
Simeon is angry with me.”
Dah. I spoke to my mother lots, but not when Sofiya sought a pity party. Then I bit my tongue. They had a routine. The siblings would fuck, and their son disappeared. He’d return with blood smeared or speckled across his gorgeous, brooding face, and he’d be satiated.
Clutching the brush handle tighter, I contemplated, put your child before your disgusting needs. Because they’d bought my freedom, I stared up at her with a look of respectful empathy.
“Simeon doesn’t have an assignment this evening,” Sofiya purred into my ear. Her fingers glided across the back of my hand. I let go of the silver-plated brush. Simeon’s mother plucked it up and began to brush my tresses. “You have such gorgeous hair, Anastasiya. I have always loved how unruly it is. Then when straightened, it’s spun silk.”
My forced smile brightened at her compliment.
“As I was saying, our Simeon doesn’t have an assignment this evening, moya Anastasiya.” After each stroke of the brush, she’d glide her fingers through my fresh-pressed hair. “And he doesn’t understand girls like us.”
I caught her gaze through the mirror.
“Anastasiya, we love men who are different.”
We love men?
We.
Love.
Men.
Should I love a man at my age? Kosta had tarnished the stars in my eyes already. She’d made me realize Volk wasn’t my knight in shining armor. Sofiya was tempting me with old, taboo sentiments.
“Simeon is like his father.” She smiled softly. “Their vices are in their powerful hands, Anastasiya. Simeon is seventeen now, you know. He’s a man, one of power.”
My mouth lifted, though I was confused as to what she was inferring.
She paused and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Nyet, don’t speak yet, my child. Holding your tongue has always been your allure. Go to him now, Anastasiya.”
I blinked a few times. Nobody knew the feelings I had for Simeon. He treated me like a little sister. What was she suggesting?
Her fingers bit into my shoulder, thin lips lifting at the edges. “Go, sweetheart. Now.”
And I did.
At the door, I grabbed a robe.
“Nyet, sweetie,” she called after me.
I glanced down at myself, my tanned legs on display. Simeon had always respected me. As a matter of fact, I’d have to stop myself from pouting when he took on the ‘big brother’ stance after I showed him a new dress. I didn’t have much up top, but the frilly stuff around my chest and ass area puffed out.
“You are decent, my child. Go.” This time the silk of her voice had fled, and it was all order. I exited my room for Simeon’s. His room was just as vast as mine, though swallowed in masculinity, and the saddest of blues.
Simeon sat on the ground near the lengthy wall, which was filled from ceiling to floor with books. He was staring at his hands, and as his mother had said, they did wield power, although empty. Deadly dark eyes caught sight of me. A fraction of the animosity in those smoldering orbs fizzled out.
“I’m not reading to you tonight, Anastasiya. Go,” he growled.
“Go. Everyone has their orders for me,” I thought. I’d grown accustomed to our banter, but Sofiya warned me not to speak—something about her scared me. In trepidation, my bare feet stalled on the marble flooring. My gaze pleaded with him.
“Fuck,” he growled, letting his face fall to his chest. He grabbed tufts of his dark hair. “I remember to the very day, the very fucking hour, I asked you to fucking stay, Asya. I don’t mean go, go. Just return to your room, girl, please,” he said, voice tense.
I stared. I could feel sadness seeping into my skin. Simeon was not a good person. He only loved his mother. But he tolerated me.
“Shit,” he groaned. “Only you are capable of making me say please. I haven’t done that since then too, and before that, never.”
It was as if one false step would make Simeon forget the deal he made with the devil to save my life. At the opposite end of the bookshelf, I reached out to grab any book.
Simeon stole the space between us before my fingertips brushed the smooth leather.
His hand scooped my waist, and he snatched me to his powerful body. His movements were so quick that I stumbled over my own feet as he hauled me over toward his dresser.
“Anastasiya, you’re aware of the routine now. The servants leave. That suka they call my father slinks away. Anatoly arrives, dah?”
Neck elongated, I nodded. Simeon yanked me back farther to him. A new type of fear settled in the pit of my stomach. Not the sort Oleg instilled in me at the Castle when I denied Volk. This was a delicious fear.
Where was Simeon headed? What was his intent?
While he stole much of the air from my lungs by squeezing my midriff, his other hand trailed down my jaw. “Anatoly didn’t leave a single order for me. I don’t have anyone to—I have no mission tonight.” His gaze wavered over me. This was a time where Simeon still shielded me from the devil in him. I knew he found relief in the Tsar’s gruesome assignments.
“I’m not a mudak like him, who expires anyone, just because. And we all know my capabilities.”
I stared at his reflection in the mirror. Simeon glared back. Tonight, Mr. Hyde was skimming beneath the surface, and I was already madly in love with Dr. Jekyll. Mesmerized by Simeon, my mouth was agape.
“See this hand?” He continued to stroke at my neck. “It’s usually buried in blood by now. Warm, soothing blood. A gun weighing my hand won’t do . . . moya milaya. I crave something more intimate.”
More of his body pressed against me as he reached over to grab a pair of scissors. The pointed tip slid down my neck, stopping at the pulse.
“You know how to stay away when Anatoly is here.” The muscles beneath his jaw worked in anger. “For your safety. Do not cross paths with me tonight if I’m still around.”
I blinked a few times. The truth froze in my light brown gaze. Dah, the demons in Simeon were more prominent when his father and mother sought each other.
“Fear vibrates through you.” He slammed the scissors on the countertop.
Goosebumps lit across my skin.
“Heed those instincts, Asya. Go!”
“You’re home.” I jolt at the sight of Simeon on the edge of the bed. A dewy flush radiates across my skin from my luxurious shower as I step out of the en suite bathroom. The memory of him that one night still fresh in my mind. I’d been deliciously afraid, and I had never run so fast in my life. I had almost stalled the nerves curdling in my veins, but I knew what he craved.
Sex.
To this day, Simeon doesn’t like to fuck when I’m afraid. I know that now. From that day on, Simeon had never tried me underneath the roof of his mother’s home. Though I suspected Sofiya anticipated our connection would cool the beast in him.
The same smoldering hot, sultry desire radiates off him now. He’s angry, and he wants to fuck. He’s fisting a bottle of Resnov Water and downs the potent vodka.
“Sim, I have to tell you something,” I murmur.
“Nyet. I’ve engaged in all the discussions I’ll tolerate today,” he grumbles. Those obsidian jewels blaze over me, and the hardness of his voice fades. “Listen, we made a promise less than seventy-two hours ago for me not to be so domineering, and you opened up to me more than ever. Though I appreciate you opening up, Asya, can this discussion wait until tomorrow?”
Sofiya screwed with his head enough for the evening. Four years have passed since Sofiya tossed an ax between us. What’s another night? I nod slowly.
“Good. Tomorrow, I’ll be the attentive, Just Tsar to my little Tsarina.” A faint smile softens the edges of his lips before he cocks his head commanding me closer.
All of Sofiya’s manipulations are blown to smithereens as I take his offered hand. A jolt of energy rushes through me like he’s made of lightning. His metallic, testosterone-filled scent floods through me. Someone’s death was on his hands today, and I can’t quite c
onnect the importance. Instead, his scent fills me with safety and desire. Hands laden with strength frame down my curves. His fingers stop on my hips, bruising my ample shape. Nails clutch my skin, and his mouth kisses and bites against my lower abdomen. Titillatingly slow, I arch into him. My frazzled brain is unable to determine what hurts more, the bites or the kisses. Each touch spirals through my soul, making the oxygen shake out of my lips.
“Simeon,” I gasp, as his hand juts up and claims my breast.
“Shhh . . . Tomorrow we can discuss anything you’d like. In the next week or two, I promise to take you on a holiday. The two of us. Wherever the fuck my woman desires, dah?”
“Mmmm.” I moan as he kneads a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Take me to a tropical island.”
“Leg up.”
In a swift agile movement, my left leg hooks around Simeon’s neck. His fingers bite into the inside of my thigh, pain dissipating when his mouth plants there. He kisses his way up to seal his lips against the ache spreading across my throbbing folds. All the air is stolen from my lungs.
Simeon mops my sex with an electrically charged mouth. His other hand twines down my other hip, fingertips biting hard into my skin. The pain is enough to still the trembling in my weak limbs.
I lift my other leg off the ground. A violent wave crashes into me as Simeon descends to his knees and places my body down to the rug. His growls vibrate against my slick inner and outer folds.
Panting in air, I beg, “Simeon, fuck me.”
Our bodies join together. The girth of him stings my slickness. The length of him digs deep inside of me. Simeon takes on a hard, punishing pace. With each thrust, my arched back slams against the floor. I’m drowning in kisses richly seasoned from the pleasure between my thighs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Simeon groans into my neck. His voice surrounds me, seems to dig deep into my soul, stroking an urge I wasn’t aware I had. The pain of him fucking me relentlessly on the ground shatters, and all that’s left is me calling Simeon’s name.