Ruthless King: A Dark Mafia Omegaverse Fated-Mates Romance (Ruthless Warlords Book 1)

by Alison Aimes

  13

  “She has to like you.” Dr. Randalff closed the dusty book he’d been scanning with a loud smack and nervously placed it on top of Nikolai’s massive, shiny black desk.

  “Come again, Doc?” Steepling his hands on the other side of the table, Nikolai leaned forward in his seat, a replica of the throne at the Brotherhood's headquarters. Carved of black onyx with a back nearly as high as the ceiling and decorated with the sculpted heads of snarling polar beasts at the arms and top, the chair was not only an homage to his homeland, but expensive, and, best of all, intimidating as hells. Sitting in it usually made him feel like a king.

  Not so much now.

  He’d managed to grab a shower and change clothes, ditching the more formal warlord clothes he’d worn for off-planet travel for a light-weight, gray, long-sleeved shirt and lounge pants that molded to his body for comfort and warmth. But the damn itch between his shoulders was making him crazy. Yes, he’d only recently left the omega in the cell. Yes, she needed to learn. Only . . .

  The doc cleared his throat. “The omega’s visions are more likely to emerge if she is happy.”

  “Uh-oh.” Alexi, who seemed to think life was one big joke, laced his fingers behind his head. His big ass feet were already propped on the edge of Nikolai’s desk. The black eye he’d gotten in his fight with Damien made him look more like a troublemaker than ever. As always, his shirt was not even laced and his pants were scuffed as if he’d just finished fucking some female in some dark, dirty corner of the compound.

  Nikolai would have liked to have this meeting with the doc alone, but his brothers’ lives were as much at risk, so he’d figured they deserved to be here too. Now he was rethinking his choice.

  “Alphas don’t need to be liked. Just obeyed.” He ran his thumb by rote along the bumps of the chain the omega had given him so long ago.

  Nodding in silent agreement, Maxheim scribbled down more notes from his seat, his white shirt starched and his top-of-the-line navy suit perfectly creased. Few Abzalians donned the formal-wear popular among inner planetary types, but Maxheim had adopted the look when they’d first gone into business, saying he wanted to give their family an air of respectability. He’d yet to revert back. Or let loose. Like always, he was taking notes during the meeting, recording the exchange word for word so he could review it later. He didn’t miss a damn syllable. He was better than a machine.

  He often seemed as dead inside as one, too. But that was a different issue.

  Meanwhile, Damien, dressed in all black as if he was off for a space battle at any moment, stood as silent as a sentinel by the door. Unlike Alexi, he didn’t have a scratch on him from the fight. As always, his hard gaze never stopped scanning everything, always on the lookout for danger.

  Seems this time, though, as if Nikolai might have fucked things up all by himself. No outside threat required.

  She has to like you.

  The omega hated him, and every heartbeat spent in the icy cell only deepened the feeling. While he . . . He shoved the thought away.

  It was far better to be feared than liked—and she needed to learn to obey.

  So why was everything inside him screaming that he’d already left her too long in that cell?

  “Start from the top, Doc.” Restless, Nikolai knocked Alexi’s boots off his desk.

  They landed on the floor with a crash.

  The doc jumped, his already wild hair standing on end. “Yes, well, as I mentioned before,” the doc’s gaze darted from one brother to the next before fixing once more on Nikolai, “our Alphaverse once looked different, with more bonded fated-mate pairs in existence and a different take on the Alpha-omega dynamic. Of course, this was so long ago that few records remain of that time, and those that do are in the hands of the Federation.”

  Alexi yawned.

  Damien shot his brother a disgusted look.

  Nikolai concurred.

  Of course, Alexi was tired. The scent of pussy and smoke from the sex clubs still clung to him, despite Nikolai’s command that the fool rein in his extracurricular activities and stay close to the compound.

  But Nikolai had bigger problems at the moment. “I’m not in the mood for a history lesson, Randalff. I need results and I need them fast.”

  “Right.” The doc cleared his throat. “That could be part of the problem.”

  Nikolai growled low.

  “But not insurmountable.” The doc forced a smile. “The omega journals you borrowed from the Federation files are fascinating.” Buoyed by enthusiasm, he lost some of his nervousness. “I conjecture that the omega from the journal had such success keeping her gift going because she was . . . happy. Happy with her Alpha. Happy with her life. She believed in their bond and, more importantly, his willingness to care for her no matter what.” He cleared his throat again and pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Perhaps a lack of happiness—rather than a deliberate block—is what is keeping you from being able to access the omega’s visions in a reliable manner.”

  Absolute silence.

  Nikolai forced himself to keep his hands by his thighs instead of curling them around the doc’s puny, narrow neck. Because if he killed the male now, he’d be more fucked than he already was.

  I didn’t think I could hate you more than I already do.

  You are a monster.

  The omega’s words echoed through his head.

  She was right. He was. What’s more, he embraced his fate willingly to keep those under his protection alive.

  In this universe, only monsters survived to become the top Alpha. Only monsters had the ability to safeguard those in their care.

  He’d never once regretted his choice . . . until the arrival of a glittering wisp of an omega who made him crave things he shouldn’t.

  Maxheim flipped back through old notes. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  Randalff swallowed hard. “The concept was so strange and outside the norm, I discounted it. But when the bond, the Alpha bite, and the sex was not enough to produce consistent visions in the Alpha Lord’s recently acquired omega, it made me think about what else might be missing. I believe it may be happiness.”

  Happiness? Who in this fucking galaxy was happy? Life was about power and violence. It was about survival and clawing your way to the top.

  He had no clue what happiness looked like or how to make someone else feel it.

  Though the omega hadn’t sounded too displeased when he’d had his cock deep inside her.

  And there was that sweet, soft purr of hers . . . which had made him feel jumbled up inside.

  “So, more sex then?” His balls tightened at the thought. He’d keep her in heat without triggering his own rut, or he’d never get anything done. If he left right now—

  “Ah, no.” The doc’s response halted Nikolai’s plan-making. “Sex alone is not the answer. She needs . . . care.”

  His cock wept silently.

  “Is there any chance commanding her to be happy will work?” Maxheim was still flipping through his notes. “Omegas are inclined to obey their Alpha’s demands.”

  Except his. But Nikolai kept his thoughts to himself.

  “You could try.” The doc sound skeptical. “But I suspect this particular emotion cannot be forced. It must be . . . earned.”

  “So, we’re fucked.” Alexi echoed Nikolai’s sentiment.

  “Doc has to be wrong.” Damien, always a loyal soldier, had his back. “If happiness was the key, she’d already be giving Nikolai all the visions he wanted. We all heard her screaming his name and begging him to fuck her harder. It was pretty clear she was not just happy, but ecstatic.”

  The others chuckled.

  Nikolai smothered a snarl and wondered, for the thousandth time, what was wrong with him. Shouldn’t he be smirking, too?

  He didn’t usually give a shit who heard him fucking or where he did it. But he didn’t like anyone else knowing how this particular omega sounded right before her breath hitched and he
r eyes fluttered shut and she came on his cock. Or the way she sometimes whispered his name and made it sound like a song when his knot was stuffed inside her pussy and he held her as close as possible.

  That shit felt oddly private.

  “Listen up.” His tone cut off the laughter immediately. “Mention anything about my omega and fucking in the same sentence again, and I will pin you down and remind you of exactly why I am the bastard sitting on this throne.”

  The others exchanged a what-the-fuck look, but they weren’t stupid enough to ask about his sudden touchiness. Even Alexi, ever the smart-ass, remained silent.

  “Got it,” Damien said at last.

  Nikolai’s comms beeped.

  Andor Stormhart’s bearded, craggy face appeared on Nikolai’s screen without permission. He wasn’t surprised. The Skolov family’s security was top-notch, but the Stormhart crime family found their way around everything, preferably by battering their way through it.

  It was fortunate, therefore, that while the two families weren’t exactly friends—who was in this cutthroat galaxy?—they did share enough mutual business interests to make them loose allies. A helpful situation since the Stormharts were crazy, brutal bastards who loved raiding and embraced the outlaw culture, not even trying to adopt a veneer of respectability. For that reason alone, Nikolai couldn’t help but like the Stormhart crime head. Andor unapologetically made his own rules and was as fierce about protecting his family as Nikolai.

  “We’ve got a problem.” Andor’s blunt assessment raised the hairs on Nikolai’s balls.

  “Tell me.” The Brotherhood had said not to talk to anyone about the trial, but everyone knew that was unenforcible.

  “The Inner Council is locked up tight, but rumors are spreading that your witnesses have been taken out. Some kind of wide-spread food poisoning hit. It’s hard to tell if any are still alive.”

  “Fuck.” Alexi exploded from his seat. “Fucking Lundin. He got to them somehow. This whole thing’s gone dirty. We can’t trust the Brotherhood. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

  Unlike his brother, Nikolai went icy calm.

  “Quiet.” The single sharp word was enough to silence his brother. They didn’t need their personal business spread to outsiders, or to show anything but a confident, calm front.

  Nikolai focused on the face on the screen. “We all know who’s behind it.” The Skolov family had plenty of enemies inside and out of the Brotherhood, but one only who cared about silencing those witnesses. “I have faith the Brotherhood will get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, we made copies of the witness testimonies and can supply them any time.”

  “Good.” Andor paused. “But, just so you know, Olan denies responsibility for the hit as well as for the earlier one on your ship while you were transporting your omega home.”

  “Of course, he does.”

  The other warlord nodded. “He’s telling the Brotherhood you financed both to smear his reputation. He’s saying you took out the witnesses because a legitimate interrogation would have proven they were fakes coerced by you to frame him.”

  “He’s a liar.” Alexi again.

  “That was never in doubt.” Andor’s scowl deepened. “But his role in these hits is harder to prove. The Brotherhood asked us to look for a payment trail that would link Olan to the attacks and we found none. Doesn’t mean it’s not there, but we can find no withdrawals from his usual accounts or any of the hidden ones he doesn’t think we know about. We all know jobs like these take a fair amount of money to carry off, so there has to be some kind of trail leading to the guilty party.” The raider paused once more. “The same goes for your accounts. The Brotherhood asked us to look there too, and we found no evidence, but you should know we looked.”

  “I never expected anything less.” Nikolai told the truth. Maxheim had alerted him the instant the Stormharts started digging through the Skolov accounts. He could have shut them out. However, since in this particular instance, he had nothing to hide, he’d allowed them to see what they wanted—and nothing more.

  Andor tugged at his beard. “If Olan is hiding the money trail, we’ll find it eventually.”

  “So will we,” Nikolai assured the other crime boss.

  Maxheim was the best at what he did. If anyone could find the connection, it would be him.

  “In the meantime,” Nikolai told the Stormhart head, “any additional information you can discover on which witnesses are dead and how it happened would be appreciated.”

  “Done.”

  “I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. It brings with it a debt I won’t forget.”

  “Of course.” Andor looked pleased. “You Skolovs are a fucking nightmare to deal with, far too good at making money and stealing away potential clients and cargo, but it keeps us on our toes. Plus, you understand loyalty and family. Olan Lundin is a meteor worm that should have been incinerated long ago.”

  The other crime head signed off.

  Tense silence dominated the room.

  “We cannot afford to piss off the Brotherhood.” Nikolai zeroed in on Alexi. “Work around them, yes. But in the end, none of us can exist without it.”

  “You’re right.” Alexi blew out a breath. “It’s the stress of this trial. It’s getting to me.”

  They both knew that wasn’t all that was going on, but his brother’s increasingly reckless behaviors, and the pain behind it, were a complication for another rotation.

  “Your instincts are right though, Alexi.” Nikolai threw him a bone. “Something isn’t adding up. I want us to find out everything we can about what happened to those witnesses and how Olan was able to get to them. We need a deeper dive into his finances as well. Olan and his people have never been good at hiding their secrets before. How did they suddenly get smart enough to bury a money trail like this? It reeks of outside help for Lundin and, if that’s the case, we need to know who else we’re dealing with as soon as possible.”

  “Done.” His brothers spoke as one.

  “Good. In the meantime, we stay the course. We have our plan, and Lundin can do fuck-all to alter it.” Nikolai returned his attention to the doc. “Now, as for you, your out-of-the-box thinking is why I let you live in the first place.”

  The doc looked paler than he had a moment ago. “Thank you, Alpha Lord. I-I am happy to be of use and hope to be of service for many years to come.”

  “Hmmm.” He shot the male a warning glare. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? But happiness, fluff, and rainbows are not fucking options. My witnesses are dead, and Olan is not playing fair. I can’t either. I need something tangible to eradicate my omega’s block, and I need it now.” His voice had risen to a near roar, his frustration reaching the surface. “Her power is there. Her gift so close I can taste it. Go back to the books, Doc. Find me something more concrete. Find me a fucking battering ram.”

  Find me something other than happiness because that possibility ended long ago.

  “Yes, Alpha Lord.” Head bobbing up and down, the doc seized his books and clutched them to his chest like a shield. “I’ll get on it.”

  “We don’t have an indefinite amount of time.” Damien paced by the door, lip curled back, fangs out. Nikolai’s aggression had triggered his own.

  “If we don’t deliver, it’s not Lundin and his rotten bloodline that dies, it’s ours,” added Alexi.

  “Enough.” Nikolai silenced his brothers. “The doc doesn’t need to be bothered with our issues.” His voice dropped to a menacing growl. “He has his own fate to worry over.”

  Ignoring the doc’s loud gulp, Nikolai seized his glass and tossed back the last of his imported inner-planetary ale. Even that offered none of its usual pleasure.

  He slammed the glass down, the itch behind his shoulders a full-on prickling now. “In the meantime, I am confident my approach will yield useful results.” Bravado had never failed him yet. “The omega is stubborn, but after some time spent in the cell, she will have learned a valuable less
on. That may prove all it takes to bring her to heel.”

  The pleased nods from his brothers made him feel all the more confident.

  Until he glanced at the doc and saw the mix of worry and skepticism in his gaze.

  Nikolai’s chest went tight all over again.

  “Gentlemen.” He pushed back from his seat, the legs of the throne skidding against the ice beneath. “You have five minutes to finish up any remaining business—most urgent only.”

  He refused to admit it aloud, but he was past ready to check on what he hoped would be a very contrite, willing omega.

  Pretending to listen, he started counting down the seconds.

  14

  One, two, three. Go!

  Dahlia shivered beneath the fur and struck. She might not be using the melted teething ring as Skolov intended, but she was making use of it all the same.

  The edge of the melted metal slammed into the prison bar. A tiny chip flew from the glimmering crystal. Not nearly enough to weaken the barrier.

  Damn things looked and felt like ice, but they were clearly something stronger.

  At this rate, it would take her twenty years to damage the bar enough to throw herself against it and break it.

  She needed a new plan. The problem was that the only course that presented itself was the last one she wanted.

  The elevator doors slid open.

  She stumbled back, her spine smacking into the wall. She gripped the metal ring like a weapon.

  “Don’t be afraid.” The voice was female, and a pretty mix of throaty and lyrical. “I’ve come with drink and food.”

  A cloaked form glided into view, tray in hand.

  From across the cell, unfamiliar savory scents filled Dahlia’s lungs.

  Her stomach contracted and grumbled.

  The new arrival moved to the side, pressed a button, and a small two-inch space dissolved on four of the bars, leaving enough room to slide the tray through. “These are some of the finest dishes Abzal is known for. Most guests at the resort have to book reservations for such a meal at least a year in advance, but I managed to cut the line.”