“What the fuck—” Roksana hisses and starts to step forward, then stops abruptly. On some level, she seems to understand that this moment does not involve her.
Maricel doesn’t move, simply stares at the mask. She steps closer, until she’s less than three feet away from me and the only thing separating us a thin pane of glass. The eye contact between us is real, unexpected, and more than a little unnerving. I will confess to finding this uneasy communion strangely compelling. There’s no rush, though so I let her take it at her own pace. She’ll get there.
She slowly places her left hand on the glass and stares into my eyes, waiting. I match it with my right hand. She shifts her gaze to my black leather glove against the glass. Lifting her eyes back to mine, she smiles—an oddly peaceful, almost beatific smile – right before she shoves the barrel of the gun into her mouth and blows her brains out.
Chapter Fifty Eight
Roksana
He’s different. There’s an ominous, darker energy about him that I don’t understand. I’m familiar with his ruthless, sadistic side but I don’t know what to make of the soulless malevolence that surrounds him now.
The ride home is strained, at least it feels that way to me as I steal glances at his grim profile. With each passing mile, my thoughts spiral downward to match his somber mood.
We head straight to our suite of rooms where I undress us both. He accepts my attentions, his eyes unfocused and distant as I remove his shirt. When my hands brush across his groin as I reach for his belt, he starts to come back to me from wherever he’s been. I seek out his eyes with each garment I remove, silently taking my cues from him until there’s nothing between us.
Now we’re lying on our bed and I’m holding him in my arms, but I feel like I’m protecting him from himself.
I wish he’d say something. Anything.
I’m jealous of a dead woman. How ridiculous, even for me. All I know is that leading that woman into death has changed him. It’s as if somehow she’s clinging to him, mocking me – it’s the ultimate mind fuck.
I have to kill what’s left of her.
I rise above him and straddle his hips. Sliding my slick heat along the length of his shaft, I revel in the sensation of his cock hardening beneath me. I trail my hands up my torso and cup my breasts, pushing them together as I pull and tug the nipples into stiff peaks.
“What are you doing?” he rasps warily, scowling up at me.
“I don’t know, what am I doing?” I ask innocently, earning a throaty growl from deep in his chest. I lift and tilt my hips at just the perfect angle and push past the broad, mushroomed head of his cock, sheathing his length in one slow glide. I move up and down his gorgeous cock, riding him hard, bracing my hands against his chest so I can bear down on him even harder.
“You’ve bewitched me, Oleg,” I moan longingly, my hands sliding over his chiseled form, caressing every dip and angle of his torso.
“I know,” he rasps as he clasps a breast, rolling his thumb around the nipple as his other hand grips my hip to control my movements. “I know.”
“Every day I’m more consumed by you. We hover between life and death every day, you and me. Maybe she recognized that in you, I don’t know,” I groan. “Whatever it was, I don’t like it. If I could kill her again, I would.”
“You would, huh,” he grunts as his hands roam all over me, kneading and gripping my flesh almost desperately as his hips rise to meet me and his breathing becomes ragged. “You’d kill for me, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you?” he demands and slaps my ass, hard.
“Yes!” I gasp, savoring the sting, “I’d kill for you! I’d kill her for you, again and again. I want to come to you bathed in her blood.”
My macabre words send Oleg over the edge, his neck and jaw muscles clenching, hips bucking wildly. The sensation of his cock surging inside me is all I need to follow him over and take my own pleasure.
Sated and boneless moments later, I don’t resist when he rolls us over so that I’m beneath him. He drapes himself across my body and I’m content to be wherever he wants to put me.
“You belong to me, Oleg. Your body, your soul, your mind. It all belongs to me.”
My warrior-lover purrs with pleasure as I soothe him by trailing my fingertips in slow, lazy circles from his shoulders down to the dimples at the base of his spine. I’ve made my point.
Oleg
I roll over onto my back and pull Roksana with me. With my arms wrapped around her tight, I try to put my racing thoughts into words.
“I’ve looked death in the eye many, many times. But never have I had death seek me out as it did tonight, as if it…needed me.” Roksana stilled in my arms and I frowned as I recalled the course of events tonight. “She had waited for me. If I hadn’t come, I have no doubt she would have knelt there until she died.”
Tonight was difficult, but there are things to be said if we are to move forward together as the Pakhan has decreed. I savor Roksana’s warm, velvety skin under my hand as I trace the length of her spine and possessively grip the curve of her ass. “The woman was a means to an end, nothing more. You have no worries.”
“Neither do you,” she says archly, sounding quite pleased with herself.
“I should say not,” I drawl. “I have been well and truly claimed by my woman this night.” I continue, my voice solemn. “But this isn’t about me, it isn’t about you -- it is, however, about your father and his legacy. He understands that, typically, a Pakhan can expect a ‘career’, if you will, of twenty, maybe twenty-five years -- in terms of long-term risks, not age. Glazov is strong and, God willing, has many years yet to enjoy. But he knows he’s already on borrowed time.”
“That probably explains his fascination with grandchildren,” Roksana mutters. “He’s after all of us, you know, not just you and me. Did you know he’s been giving his sons sex tips?! Optimal positions for conceiving, timing, you name it.”
At my knowing look, her jaw drops and she gasps in horror. “You too? Seriously?! Oh…” She lowers her forehead to my chest as she groans, mortified. With a sigh, she rests her chin on her hand, eyes twinkling up at me. “You know, Logan can barely make eye contact with Father anymore, now that she knows what he and Kodiak have been talking about.”
“No doubt the Pakhan will have a houseful of grandchildren if he so desires,” I say with confidence. “For the moment, though, I have only one goal -- beyond marrying you, of course -- and that is to keep your father alive. Tonight was necessary; I will not leave any enemies or possible witnesses alive to come back later when we least expect it.”
“I know,” she says quietly.
“Tonight belonged to the Grim Reaper. What’s done is done. So,” I growl as I roll on top of her, “face the fact that it’s a new day and fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.”
Anastasia
I’ve made it through my first Bratva assignment, and I’m fairly certain that I did so as an asset and not a liability. More importantly, I survived.
Dmitriy and I are in the surveillance room, taking down some of the equipment and prepping it for storage until it’s needed again. I steal a glance at him, but, as always, he’s one step ahead of me. Those dark eyes of his are trained on me as he finishes boxing up one of the monitors. Sexual awareness thrums between us and my cheeks heat as I shift in my chair.
“You made it through your first assignment. Well done. You even managed to get along with both of your mentors, which is not so easily done. The fact that you’ve connected with Roksana will keep you alive. The fact that you’ve bonded with me will, no doubt, cause you problems.”
“Oh, really. How so?”
“You’ve made the mistake of attracting my attention. I’m intrigued with you.” He grins at me as he lays a strip of shipping tape down the length of the box. “Can’t get you off my mind, actually.”
“You’re just fascinated with serial killers.”
He leans in, turning the full force of that masculine energy on me as he
sets the box aside. “In the beginning, perhaps. But not now. You see,” he purrs as he takes my hand in both of his, “after seeing how you handle yourself, after working with you day in and day out, I know what I want.”
“You do.”
“Oh, yes. I want you,” he whispers as he slides his thumb along my wrist, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. My pulse leaps against his skin and the slow, sexy smile on his face tells me he feels it too.
“So,” I stammer, deciding a change of subject would be a good thing. “Um, how much more do you suppose we need to do here?”
“Depends on what you have in mind,” he says, his voice a soft, husky murmur as he continues, undeterred. “I see no reason not to make my intentions clear – to you and everyone else. I think about you all the time. The thought of you with another man infuriates me. You’re in here,” he says softly, tapping his temple. “But I want you here.”
Shit, he’s pointing to his heart. I’m not ready for this. “Look, Dmitriy, it’s not you, it’s me.”
“Oh, how fucking cliché is that, Anastasia? We both know you’re scared. I don’t blame you, after that douchebag you were married to. You don’t know what you want. You’ve never had a real relationship. Not with a real man. Not with me. You’re still getting to know who you are. I get that. I’m just saying, let’s find out together.”
“I hate to break up the love fest, people, but Father wants us in his office,” Roksana’s sarcastic drawl breaks the spell and I waste no time yanking my hand from Dmitriy’s grip. She and Oleg stand in the doorway, looking at us speculatively. I have no idea how long they’ve been there or what they overheard, but I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.
“Your father picks the oddest times to call us on the carpet,” I say, standing up in a hurry as I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms down the front of my jeans.
“He enjoys the element of surprise. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a night owl,” she laughs over her shoulder as we all fall in line behind her.
Oleg puts his hand on her shoulder and whispers in her ear, no doubt reminding her that he’s going first in case there is any danger. You’d think Roksana would be safe in her own home but she gave up that expectation when she was born a Glazov. We all know she’s a commodity to our rivals because she is precious to two powerful men. If she were ever captured, Glazov and Oleg would stop at nothing to get her back. Then again, she’s a killing machine; I doubt she would need to be rescued.
As usual, Glazov calls us in before we have a chance to knock. The atmosphere is somber and quiet as we step through the door. We line up in front of his desk and wait.
“I trust you’ve annihilated our enemies?”
Oleg is the first to speak up. “Yes, the last one was taken care of earlier tonight.”
“How so?”
“We’ve been employing psychological tactics,” he begins, but is interrupted by Novak.
“You’ve been fucking with her head. Well played.”
“The Venezuelans are superstitious,” Oleg continues. “We capitalized on that and convinced her she was seeing the Grim Reaper. I used a mask and appeared to her a number of times.”
Novak smacks his leg and roars with laughter, “You? The Grim Reaper? Fucking epic!”
Even Glazov has a twisted, sinister smile on his face. “Do go on,” he says as he leans back in his chair, as if settling in for a while.
“The Grim Reaper had appeared to her a couple of times in recent days. Last night, I showed up at her window in the mask. She had been holding a vigil at a shrine she had created. When she saw the Grim Reaper at her window, she picked up a gun and blew her brains out.”
“Like I said, fucking epic,” Novak grins, shaking his head incredulously. “I don’t know that many people who can say they actually drove someone crazy. Damn.”
Oleg’s face shows no remorse. He remains, hands down, the coldest man I’ve ever met. He shrugs and voices what his dead eyes are already saying. “It was necessary.”
Damn. This is Roksana and Oleg’s idea of fun? Drive someone crazy and watch them blow their brains out, up close and personal? Wow. Just wow.
“Yes. No loose ends, right?” Glazov says with a chuckle, but his eyes are solemn as they meet Oleg’s. “You have done well. Now, all of you, relax and prepare for a formal dinner I have planned for tomorrow evening. We have much to celebrate.”
With a curt nod from the Pakhan, we are dismissed.
Chapter Fifty Nine
Roksana
I stand in front of the gilded cheval mirror in my designer gown, looking a damn sight more civilized than the last time I was here. I flush at the memory of the raucous fucking I received from the Grim Reaper. I hope to see him again someday.
The woman looking back at me is a bombshell in emerald green Prada couture – a gift from Oleg. The fabric cinches my waist and hugs my ass before cascading to the floor in a waterfall of gossamer layers. Oleg appears at my shoulder, looking almost civilized in his tuxedo. He slides his arms around me from behind, slipping a hand inside the strapless bodice of my gown to fondle a breast.
“Copping a feel already?” I laugh nonchalantly, but my heavy-lidded gaze and shallow breaths give me away.
“Mmm-hmmm,” he hums against my neck. “Great dress. This is my favorite part,” he says, meeting my eyes in the mirror as he gives my flesh a squeeze.
“I wonder what he has planned,” I muse aloud as I tilt my head to the side, giving him access to more of me.
“World domination.”
“That’s a given, baby,” I chuckle. “And I think he could if he set his mind to it.”
“I have no doubt.” He removes his hand and turns me around to face him, lifting my chin with one finger. “I don’t know what your father has planned for tonight. What I do know is this: it’s a new beginning for you and me. We’re going all the way together, Roksana – marriage, children, all of it. I want to have what normal people have.”
Normal. What is normal? Things like debutantes, proms, and cheerleading weren’t part of my upbringing. My mother made sure I had all the social graces one would expect but, ultimately, I was born and bred to shed the blood of my father’s enemies. That is what’s normal to me.
“Are you telling me you’re giving up your sadistic, sociopath ways?” I ask with a pout.
“I wouldn’t go that far. You and I will always crave chaos and mayhem. Your parents have managed to have it all so I don’t see why we can’t.”
“I’m with you. I’m ready for a modicum of normalcy – I’m just not sure ‘normal’ is ready for us. Throw in a dash of crazy and, as long as we’re together, it’s all good.”
“You ready?” he asks, offering me his arm. “Let’s find out what your father has up his sleeve.”
I tuck my arm through his and we head downstairs -- just this once, side by side.
Anastasia
My heartbeat quickens as Dmitriy slides up behind me and whispers in my ear, “You’re a vision in red, Anastasia.”
I shiver as his lips brush my skin.
“You’re my date tonight,” he continues, audaciously pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck. “That means no dancing with anyone but me. You’re mine, you know. You would be wise to accept it.”
I step away from him and accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “You know,” I say as I glance around the ballroom, “Serial Killers R Us is having a sale, I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for there.”
He throws back his head and laughs before falling into step next to me. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.” He stops me, taking hold of my arm and turning me around to face him.“You see,” he murmurs, running his hands up and down my upper arms and smiling as goosebumps rise from his touch. “I’ve already found exactly what I’m looking for. I’m afraid nothing else will do. I never give up and I always get what I want. One way or another, you’re going to see things my way. No isn’t an option.”
My body – th
e traitor -- leans into him against my will. Maybe he’s right, maybe I’ve never been in a real relationship.
“This isn’t just about fucking you, Anastasia – although I can promise you we’ll be getting to that soon. No, as much as I look forward to being inside your body, I want to get inside your head…the same way you’ve gotten into mine.”
“I never tried to get in your head, Dmitriy.”
His hand clamps the back of my neck and he pulls me toward him. All traces of his playful charm are long gone. “I meant what I said: as of tonight, you’re mine. I’ve got a jealous streak, baby, and you don’t want to see that side of me.”
He has no idea that I already know a little something about jealousy because of him. I think back to the night he and Oleg went to the strip club. At the time, I didn’t understand why it bothered me so much when Maricel and her friend joined Dmitriy and Oleg at their table. Even then, I didn’t want his attention focused on anyone else. Well, now I’ve got what I wanted. I sure hope I can handle it – handle him.
In our world of Bratva, secrets and murder truly are the ties that bind. Perhaps Glazov is right and the diamond business will take us into a new era, free from the constant threat of danger and death. I hope so. But in the meantime, I, Anastasia, am ready to face whatever comes my way.
My decision made, I smile up at Dmitriy. He offers his arm with a slight bow and I take it, tucking my hand snugly in the crook of his elbow. I press the side of my breast against his arm and caress his bicep, just to hear him growl in frustration as he nods benignly at passing guests.
“So it’s going to be like that, is it?” he teases softly, for my ears alone.
“Mm-hmm,” I reply, smiling serenely at the same guests.
No expense has been spared for tonight’s festivities. Tables are set up with every Russian delicacy imaginable and the exotic smells are nothing short of decadent.
Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) Page 21