Lawless 2 (The Finale)

by Amarie Avant

  “Ready to reacclimate yourself to society—leave this underworld you were born in?” I pour us more.

  “Yeah.”

  Hmmmm, he had an opinion about Irek Chutin. Now, he’s clamming up. I refresh our drinks, letting the clear liquid pool at the rim of the glass now.

  Mikhail downs his, and I down mine.

  We’re at the end of the bottle when Anastasiya pops her head into the room.

  “Sim . . .” Her face blossoms into an uncertain smile. “What are the two of you doing?”

  “Drinking,” I reply.

  “He’s testing me,” Mikhail sniggers.

  “Simeon, why are you testing your cousin?” She clears her throat.

  “Because I . . .” Mikhail begins.

  Chapter 50

  Anastasiya

  When I returned to Loni’s room, I started to apologize. She refused to believe I had wronged her in any way. We parted ways on the grounds that I’d come back in a few days, and she agreed to participate in the psychological assessment that had been ordered for her.

  Now, I’m staring between the one man who’s claimed my soul and the other who just offered a vastly different universe. I’ve told myself a thousand times to ease into a conversation with Simeon about my sordid connection to Mikhail. Take some of the blame by sharing how I once compared him to Volk.

  Chaos, Armageddon, and hell all wrapped into one shiny, red ribbon. I’m not strong enough for that shit.

  Clearing my throat, I ask, “Simeon, why are you testing your cousin?”

  Seconds transform into hours, years, a millennia while I wait, then funnel back down into nothingness.

  “Because I . . .” Mikhail stutters. “I’m leaving, and contrary to his steel exterior, my little cousin loves me.”

  “Okay, well, you’ve had enough.” I place on a smile. Our fingers clash as I remove the glass from his hand.

  “I could use more,” he slurs.

  “That’s up to you. But right now, Sim and I need to discuss a few things.” I hook my arm through Mikhail’s. Funny, the stars don’t shatter in the sky when I touch him in Simeon’s presence. With an affable smile, I lead him toward the door. I shut it behind him, close my eyes for a fraction of a second, and gulp down the shame of running to him earlier.

  Upon turning around, Simeon is swiveling in his chair. The predator feigns innocent, though his intentions are transparent.

  “What were you doing, Sim?”

  “Drinking with my kazen. You have eyes.”

  “Oh, I have eyes.” I roll them at that, strutting around the table. His hands slide around me, kneading the flesh of my ass, and I sink down onto him. Gripping his short, black hair, I pull his eye level from my breasts and to my face. “Hey, you sarcastically replied how I have eyes. Sim, look me in them when I’m talking to you.”

  His voice is lethal enough to make me squeeze my thighs around him tighter. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “You. I'm the big boss.” I smack his lips with a kiss. “Wow. I taste alcohol, enough to get me—”

  Simeon grips my wrists, bringing them behind me. “Nyet. You’re carrying my child.”

  My gaze falters. My worries about having a baby in this underworld are ready to erode the progress we’ve made. Shit, today, I’d begun to loosen the foundation we built on the island.

  “Hey, hey.” His grip on my wrists tightens, his other hand testing the tautness of my throat. “My fucking baby, Anastasiya. I will never question you about our baby. I will look into our son’s or daughter’s eyes, no matter the fucking color, and tell that kid how gorgeous she is or handsome he is because he was lucky enough to come from here.” He plants his hands on my flat abdomen. “You mean more to me than anything in this world. So, what the fuck does that say about your womb? The innocence growing there?”

  I’m drowning in his sincerity. “But . . .”

  “You’re loyal, Asya. You had a baby for me once. This is my baby. I won’t say it again.”

  Bottom lip trembling uncontrollably, I open my mouth to speak. Simeon catches my jittery lip in his teeth, squeezing hard.

  “Are we bringing up this discussion again, Anastasiya? Are we?”

  “Simeon—”

  “Because as I see it,” his demeanor becomes smooth like wine, “my baby is here. You have a job to do, create a healthy start. My job is never to forget our baby is a gift. Be the best fucking father I can be. That’s my gift. Don’t deny me, Asya.”

  “I’m not,” I stress the words. “Sim, the baby isn’t Irek Chutin’s.”

  His smoldering gaze roams over me. “Then what the fuck is wrong, moya milaya? Uncertainty is written all over your face.”

  I crush a few fingers into my hair, clamping at the strands while heaving a sigh. “Us. Simeon.”

  “You doubt us?” His muscular frame, beneath me, seems to deflate. “For all the power I wield, turning back the hands of time isn’t one of them, Asya.”

  “We drown in each other, Sim. Quick to explode, quick to forgive.”

  “No more.” He frames my face. “Anastasiya, we’ve demolished the highest fucking hurdles. Now, all I need is your promise of forever. In return, I’ll be who you need. Keep being my good girl, the one who saw the best in me from day one. Do that.”

  “I just get lost in my head sometimes, Simeon. Thinking about the past,” I stress, with a deep breath. The years fly through my mind. Not all of them have been perfect. Mikhail had got into my head. Truthfully, I granted him the key, my mind a muddled mess from Volk. Throat tight, I say, “Sim, I love you, madly.”

  Heated tears burn my eyes as a smile breaks across my face. His knuckles become silk along my jawbone, thick chest heaving a sigh.

  “Let’s be great parents, moya milaya. We’ve broken promises to each other, but this one we will fulfill together as man and wife. Okay, krasivaya?”

  “Are you proposing?” The damn breaks, I sob through the laughter.

  “Dah, and here’s your chance to say, dah, too.” He grips my face again, shaking my head for me.

  I dart out of his clutch, chuckling harder. Rivers of happiness blind my eyes as his fingers move feather-soft around my waist. Through broken, elated words, I declare, “Simeon, you are a beast! What happened to a new ring, a new plan?”

  “Pay attention, girl.” Simeon leans back in his chair. On the tip of his pinky is a classic, white-gold band with the softest most intricate waves.

  “How?”

  “I’ve always told you the how is—”

  “You were talking about torture, Simeon.” I snatch his hand toward me. I deftly wipe away the tears. My heart is warmed over a thousand times, viewing the inscription inside. When I read the declaration, another laugh bubbles through me. “Very dominating, Sim. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Good. I’ve had this ring in my pocket since we left paradise, Anastasiya.” Simeon takes my hand, placing the statement of his adoration there. It’s free of grandiose diamonds, a perfect snug fit. My not-so-gentle giant places my finger to his lips, and for the first time in forever, all the seeds of doubt fade into oblivion. He reads the inscription aloud:

  “To my heartbeat. My entire world.

  Not even death will part us, moya milaya.”

  Chapter 51

  Simeon

  Night of the VOLK

  Standing in the mirror, I wrestle with the bow tie of my tuxedo. Through the reflection, Anastasiya’s voluptuous hips splay against the wall behind me. A silver dress brushes her curves. A slit dangerously ascends her left thigh. On her tiny feet are the type of million-dollar crystal stilettos that send my cock rising in my pants.

  “Why are you dressed?” I sound more accusatory than I had meant.

  “Ha! How about I look gorgeous. In a few months—”

  “You’ll be infinitely more striking.” I’m against her in a second. “When I get my hands on your ass and tummy.”

  She purrs against my mouth. “S
im, I’ll remember verbatim what you said. Ass and tummy—even when I have more of the latter.”

  My fingertips skim over the slit of her dress and along her flesh. “Again, I ask, why are you dressed? You hardly kept breakfast down this morning.”

  “Because payback is—”

  I press my mouth against hers. My tongue glides over her bottom lip before my teeth sink into the thick flesh.

  “I’m going, Sim.”

  “Nyet.”

  “Morning sickness won’t stop me.”

  “Technically, it’s been morning, noon, and anything you eat sickness.” I softly wrestle her body against mine. “You tell your Tsar the plan. I’ll fulfill it for you.”

  She sneers. “Nyet.”

  “That mouth is the crux of all the discipline I’ll give to you once I return from the gala,” I retort. The one instance she speaks Russian is to defy me.

  “Simeon, nobody is aware of my plan.”

  “I’m your man,” I growl.

  “Tough shit.” Her hips lead her toward the bedroom door. She grips both handles, pushing through, head higher than any other royal.

  I stalk after her. Anastasiya pauses long enough for me to flank her side and take her tiny hand in mine. But I don’t stop there. I squeeze the life out of her little fingers.

  She grins up at me.

  “So, the remainder of the plan?” Beam inquires.

  “You will know when you’re told.” I snarl.

  The twins share glances. Others call them creeps. I call them loyal and easily read. Although now, their faces are clear to all the guards surrounding us.

  This is Italy all over again. The sadist in me withholding Dominicci’s demise until the last moment.

  But this time . . . even I don’t know the plan.

  My resources acquired the perfect spot to abduct Irek Chutin. He was supposed to be brought to one of our torture houses, prepped for me.

  Prepped for his last breath.

  Enter Anastasiya.

  She requested to attend the gala, coveting the sight of Chutin in his natural element and the seconds leading toward the capture. Dah, my fault. The second I took her on missions, I indeed told her that removing a target from their natural routine was a passion of mine, second to the torture itself. All a mind fuck.

  For the next few hours, we’re incognito on the second level of the building. The Bratva also has the intel on Chutin’s guards and their rotation. Anastasiya revels in every second of watching the mudaks meander down below, while I’m on high alert.

  I brought a pregnant woman into a very dangerous situation. And she would try to murder me, had I locked her ass up and proceeded with the fail-proof plan.

  “Sim . . .” Anastasiya grips my arm. She’s glaring down into the fray of Moët drinkers and haughty conversations. “Do you know how badly I want you right now?”

  A flood of desire hardens my cock. I grip the railing, attempting to keep my focus. “Nyet. Not here, Anastasiya.”

  She plants her warm, soft body behind me. Her nipples dig into my back. Anastasiya slides her hand in front of me. “Why not here? I distinctively recall how hot and bothered you were when we attacked Khadar.”

  I chuckle deep down low and tip back the drink in my hands.

  “Is it because I’m pregnant?”

  “Nyet.” Dah, fuck yeah. She has a little baby growing in her belly, and she needs to be safe.

  “You sure?” I allow her hands to pull down my zipper and knead at my cock.

  “Anastasiya, you keep at it, you’re going over my shoulder, and . . .” I’d lock her in the trunk to keep her safe, but my baby comes first.

  “And?” she inquires, stroking my balls.

  My body tenses, but I grunt, “Home. End of fucking discussion.”

  She ascends on her tippy toes, kissing my neck and capturing my earlobe in her teeth. “Not the end of the discussion.”

  “Don’t make me regret instincts. You’re pregnant. You should be waiting for your little wolf to be thrown at your feet. Kirill has a doctor preparing a room for you to dismember—”

  “I never said anything about dismembering Chutin, Simeon.”

  I turn around, ready to inquire for the thousandth time about her intentions when she descends to her knees.

  “Have a little fun with me.” She winks. “Before I enjoy the first man who ever claimed he loved me.”

  My jaw clinches, and I capture her throat, forcing my cock to slam all the way in. Through the fan-thick, long lashes, Anastasiya looks up at me. Her pink, luscious lips draw tight across my rigidness.

  “Fuck your clit,” I growl, urgent to slide my seed down her throat and regain my focus. But the longer she sucks sloppily at my cock, the more my brain hazes over, and my eyes roll back.

  Asya moves her fingers beneath her silk dress. Her other hand is firm against my balls. Entrapping her face, I slam into her depth.

  “Shit,” I hiss. “When I cum, you cum.”

  Her tonsils squeeze at my cockhead, tongue slithering around. The sensation curls my toes underneath, and I forget all, save for her. The depth of her mouth is so tight.

  “This is what your mouth was made for, Anastasiya.” A smug smile lifts my lips as I grip her hair and fuck her face. My dick swims in her euphoric funnel.

  Her wet mouth moans around me, pulling in the length of me. In and out, my cock smashes at her tonsils. She switches hands. Her slick, sticky fingers work my balls as her other hand screws between her thighs. Each thrust tests her gag reflex, sending her deep throat squeezing. The rhythm of her hand hypnotizes my balls until they begin to twitch.

  In a low, barbaric tone, I order, “Drink.”

  Chapter 52

  Anastasiya

  The place where the Bratva obliterated their opponents is an actual castle. And I don’t mean the fine, ancient establishments where us Castle Girls were blinded by opulent tapestries. I mean a falling down, fortress of gray stone. Many of the various wings have crumbled to the ground. A tower to the west vaults into the sky.

  At the tippy top, there are cells. Each one smells of mold, stagnant rainwater, and death. I’d replaced my stilettos for tennis shoes, but even in a long coat, I huddle in the blanket Simeon gave me. The chill jars my bones.

  He runs his hands over my shoulders. “You could go—”

  “Say it,” I dare him.

  “Home.” He does.

  The doctor, sifting through a cart of terror items, glances between the two of us, clearing his throat. His pale skin matches that of the stone walls. His disinterest is even more pallid.

  I’d been antsy while taking Simeon in my mouth before. The strength of his cock had calmed me. “Sim, I asked for this. I’m not sparing his life.”

  A deep breath draws from Simeon’s massive chest. “My only concern is you, moya milaya. When you went after Oleg, you were high off emotion. You haven’t had bad dreams in a while now. We can leave, let Kirill handle this.”

  The sound of footsteps ends our conversation, growing louder, nearer. My heart constricts in my chest. I can do this. I’ll set eyes on Irek Chutin and . . .

  A body tumbles across the stone ground before us. Five byki, including the twins and Kirill, have animosity-charged gazes on him.

  A cloth covers Irek’s eyes. The penguin suit he wore tonight is splotched with blood and dirt. He grips the ground, calling out, “I have money—lots of money.”

  My entire face trembles at the thought of how little Oleg was charged for the Castle Girls. The echo of distant coins clatters to the ground before my mind’s eye. Oleg’s words lick against my ear: “This is the price of a Resnov Castle Girl when I make a bargain with a Chutin.”

  “We are leaving now.” Simeon grips my shoulders, and I spiral back to reality. “I don’t like this, Anastasiya, when you get fucking locked into your head.”

  “Hello, imbecile! I have money.” Chutin crawls in the direction of Simeon’s voice. A byki issues a kick to his stomach, which dr
ops him like a slithering snake. Dust floats up, accenting the streams of tears on his cheeks.

  I push at Simeon, finally able to react, drawn to the Volk’s tears.

  “Anastasiya,” Simeon grits out. “I don’t—”

  I haul off and shove my unyielding mountain again. The adamant beast squares his shoulders as I growl. “I asked for this!”

  “Moya love?” Irek turns his cowled head in my direction. I spoke, and he knew me by voice. “Moya Anastasiya. Please.”

  The world tilts on its head. I go to my knees, removing the canvas bag from his face. Weary blue eyes plunge me further into an alternate dimension. “Moya Anastasiya . . . I’m sorry.”

  He places his arms around me, hugging me tightly. All the rage in the galaxy is bottled in Simeon’s stormy eyes. Kirill heads toward us. I hold up a hand.

  “Go ahead.” I find my voice. “You’re sorry, right.”

  “Dah.” His soiled palms, soft as silk from lack of fighting for his supreme existence in our lawless world, caress my cheeks.

  “And you have money?” A voice so foreign echoes in my ear. But it’s mine.

  Those baby blues begin to roll. “You know I do. Ten times more than these savages. I was without you for so long. I regret allowing Oleg to take you. But simply put, you required training. Come home with me.”

  His delirium, or overconfidence, sends me clasping my arms around my belly as I chuckle. “Kirill, do you have money?”

  He removes his ponytail, past the point of anger.

  “I said, do you have—”

  “Here.” Dot hands me a hundred note.

  “More than necessary, but thank you.” I take the paper, tear off a fraction, and hand it to Irek. “Loni believes she’s worth more.”

  Animosity swelling, I tear more money. It falls like useless ribbons between us. “So did the girl who was in the same cage as her when she was sold to Oleg. So did your father’s plaything, so did The Invisible—”