From Russia With Fangs

by Jacey Conrad

  The moment Maksim’s back was turned, Irina mouthed several insults toward Maksim and his mother, which made her sister giggle as she took Nik’s arm.

  “The young pup is a bit out of his league, yes?” Andrey whispered to Irina as he led her into the family box.

  “He’s not even playing the right game,” Irina murmured, making Andrey grin wickedly.

  Being a creature of habit overwhelmed Papa’s hosting sensibilities and he took the seat on the end of the front row, as usual. Alexei jumped to sit at Papa’s right, edging Nik out of the way, which was typical. Maksim plopped next to him and immediately took out his cell phone to check his text messages. Nik took the next seat, leaving only one “good” seat in the front row. In the Sudenko family, chivalry was dead and mummified.

  Andrey was steering her around the box, to the front row, but Irina much preferred sitting next to Galina for the next few hours, enjoying their typical ballet pastime of rating the male performers’ codpieces.

  Somebody had to do it.

  “Oh, you have to take this seat, Andrey,” she said, gesturing to the seat like a game show hostess. “Papa always says the end seats have the best view of the stage.”

  “I’ll move,” Nik said, quickly, hopping up from his seat. But Andrey put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat.

  “No, no, you’re already seated,” Andrey said. “I’ll sit in the second row.”

  “I don’t mind sitting with Galina,” Irina assured him.

  “But your father was just telling me how much you love the ballet,” Andrey protested, and for some reason, he kept his eyes trained on her baby sister. “I couldn’t let you miss Swan Lake. Really, I insist.”

  “But it would be rude to let a guest in the second row,” Papa protested, flushing red now that he realized his error.

  Irina shook her head. “I don’t mind. I’ve already seen this company’s performance of Swan Lake. And really, you see one evil wizard change a girl into a bird, you’ve seen them all.”

  Papa looked nonplussed. He couldn’t, in all good manners, contradict a guest’s edict that Nik should sit in the front. As the host, it would look bad for him to sit anywhere but the front row, near his guest. And he knew that asking Alexei to move would create a huge scene.

  “I don’t mind, Papa,” Irina promised him, kissing his cheek. “And I’ll be sitting next to Galina, so it will be completely proper.”

  “Yes, yes,” Galina grumbled. “We’re all in agreement. Everybody sit down.”

  Irina slid gracefully into the seat on Galina’s right.

  “You okay?” Irina whispered as the orchestra swelled and the curtain rose.

  “Fine,” Galina bit out.

  “Okay, then, we’ll pretend I buy that,” Irina said, her mouth pulling into a grimace.

  Prince Siegfried and his royal buddies took the stage to celebrate his birthday. Irina relaxed into her seat, no longer feeling obliged to be “on” for her awkward-as-hell family double date. Papa was really pushing his “get the girls settled before Alexei takes power” agenda. Was he worried about something? Was he ill? Or was Alexei no longer content to wait to take over the areas of the business Papa felt he was ready for? Was that what had Galina stirred up? Or was it just irritation over the presence of the caviar prince, who seemed to be content with his status as Alexei’s toady-in-training.

  Viktor and Konstantin stood vigil from the walls of the box. Galina shifted in her seat, clearly agitated by something, but Irina could not discern the source of her agitation. Had she and Alexei had some sort of fight before Irina showed up? Could she and her sister make a field trip to the ladies’ room without an armed escort? Probably not.

  “Would you two sit, you’re distracting me!” Galina hissed at their put-upon bodyguards. “It’s like watching ballet with a couple of gargoyles lurking in the shadows.”

  While Konstantin took the seat on the end near Galina, Viktor claimed the outside aisle seat next to Irina. Irina kept her arms folded rigidly in her lap and her legs pressed together, as far away from Viktor’s as possible. Should she touch him, even in the most innocent of ways, she would surely get turned on, and every wolf in this box would know it. And Viktor would be put down like a rabid dog at intermission.

  “Oh, this is so much fun,” Galina stage-whispered to her sister. “I hope we can do this every Friday night.”

  Irina surreptitiously gave her the finger, keeping her eyes on the stage. Konstantin snickered beside her. With a sigh, Galina pulled out her phone to check for messages. She frowned at the screen, stood, gathering her skirts in one hand and slid past Konstantin. Maksim was oblivious, whispering to Alexei about a superior performance of the piece he’d seen in Moscow. Andrey and Nik turned around in their seats at the commotion.

  “I need to take a call,” Galina told them, excusing herself and leaving the box. Andrey lifted an eyebrow and glanced at his bodyguard. Konstantin sighed, pushing to his feet and following her. Nik and Andrey turned back to the dancers, leaving Viktor and Irina unsupervised.

  Viktor trailed his fingertip over her knee. Irina shifted in her seat, goose bumps rising on her arms and Viktor’s hand ghosted over her thighs.

  Damn it. This was so dangerous. If Papa looked back and saw this, they would be dead. If any of the wolves in this box caught so much as a whiff of Irina’s growing arousal, they would be dead. And yet, Viktor’s fingertips lingered over her garters, a sly little smile playing on his lips. His thumb played along the lacy edge of the stockings, soothing the skin.

  The tiniest shift in her body rubbed her breasts against the stiff lacy cups of her bra, sending tiny shockwaves through her body. Irina gripped the seat rest, digging her nails into the leather. Viktor’s fingers edged between her thighs and her breath stuttering, Irina looked to Viktor, and he winked at her.

  Bastard.

  Irina stood on shaky legs. “I’m just going to check on Irina…Galina. I’m going to look for Galina,” she whispered loudly enough for Papa to nod.

  Viktor smirked up at her. After ensuring that Papa wasn’t watching, Irina flicked Viktor’s ear as she passed.

  “Follow her, Viktor,” Papa whispered over his shoulder as Irina walked through the box door.

  Her thighs were slick and chafed slightly against the lace of her stockings as she teetered down the hall on her watery legs. In the name of all that was holy and unholy, she was going to find a way to get back at Viktor for teasing her like this. Even if meant Ambesol-ing his dick—if and when they had sex again—so he couldn’t come. She would have her revenge.

  She swept down the staircase, careful not to catch her heels on the stairs as she made her way to the ladies’ lounge. She closed the door firmly behind her, leaning her head back against it and breathing deeply through her nose. The interior of the lounge was luxurious and distinctly feminine with creamy raw silk fainting couches and deep blue carpet done in a swirling wave pattern.

  Irina glanced around to make sure she was alone and stepped toward the couches. The door swung open and she felt a warm hand close around her wrist. Viktor locked the door behind her. She bent her arm at the elbow, yanking it toward the opening of Viktor’s fingers, like he’d shown her. But he allowed himself to be dragged toward her, whirling her toward him and crushing her to his chest in a hot, fierce kiss. She squealed against his mouth, muttering extremely graphic threats in English and Russian. All she managed to produce in any audible fashion was “You…big trouble…jackass” as Viktor scooped her up and carried her to one of the couches.

  But she had her arms wound around his neck by the time he spread her out carefully against the upholstery, kneeling in front of her. He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and tossed it on the couch beside her. He pushed the filmy skirt of her gown up to her thighs and pressed his hot open mouth to the lace of her stockings. His claws extended and he oh-so-carefully sliced through the bands of lace holding her panties over her hips.

  Eyes aglow and br
illiant blue, he sprang up, pressing his lips to hers and swallowing her whimpering little breaths. Irina heard his free hand working near his thighs, lowering his zipper and ripping open a foil packet. He was rushing, she knew. They didn’t have much time before Papa realized that it didn’t take twenty minutes to use the ladies’ room. And in some part of her brain she would carefully analyze later, that excited her, sending shimmering electricity dancing along her nerve endings from her nipples to her thighs.

  She palmed his cheek, running her finger along his bottom lip. He mouthed at it, sucking it into his mouth as he lowered her onto his hard cock. She cried out, burying her face in his neck to muffle the noise. And then, she was mad all over again, and sank her teeth into the skin between his neck and shoulder.

  He reared back, dragging her up with him as he growled out his pleasure. His eyes flashed gold with approval, as if he wanted her marks on him. He laid her shoulders back on the couch, keeping her propped on his thighs as he pumped his hips. She propped up on her elbows, careful not to muss her hair as he guided her ass, up and down. She could feel her liquid warmth coating his cock, easing her way.

  He eased her back again, so she could watch as he teased her dripping center. This new angle hit all the right places inside of her, bumping against her sweet spot, making her toss her head back against the couch. He thumbed her clit in tight circles, giving a pleased growl and smile when her muscles pulsed around him.

  Viktor’s thrusts grew quick and erratic, sending the couch skidding across the carpet. He sucked that much harder on her fingers and the twin sensations were enough to send her over the edge, an enormous wave of pleasure rippling through her and bowing her back against the seat. She felt the warm rush inside her as Viktor spilled inside the condom. She relaxed against the upholstery, a light sheen of sweat making the fabric of her dress cling to her skin. Viktor collapsed against her, head resting on her throat, breathing hard.

  And when he lifted his head and smiled at her, all smug and pleased with himself, she got mad at him all over again. “Jackass!” she grumbled again.

  With all of the dignity she could muster, she stood, dropped her ruined panties into her handbag and walked out of the lounge on legs as wobbly as a newborn fawn’s.

  “Irina, wait!” Viktor called after her, but unfortunately for him, his tux involved a lot more refastening than her gown. And Irina could make pretty good time on those heels. She straightened her shoulders and prayed for the sticky fluids on her thighs to dry before she reached the rest of her family. She paused, looking over her shoulder, where Viktor was carefully exiting the ladies’ lounge. Maybe she should go back and wash up before she returned to her family?

  While she stood there, debating, a loud, keening moan sounded from the cloakroom door. And it sounded like it came from Galina. Irina frowned. What the hell would Galina be doing in there? Was she sick? Hurt? Was that why she was behaving so oddly tonight? Irina shoved the door open and was greeted by the sight of a bare masculine ass, pants rucked down below his cheeks. Irina squeaked, prompting Galina’s head to appear over a man’s hunched shoulder. She waggled her fingers.

  Andrey turned his head toward the door, his lips and chin shiny. His steely eyes flashed in the lights of the hallway. For someone who was supposed to be “courting” Irina, he didn’t seem all that abashed at being caught face-deep in her sister. What the hell was Andrey doing with her sister? And for that matter, what the hell was Galina doing with Andrey? Irina had never seen any indication that Andrey was fond of Galina, or well, people in general, really.

  Galina called, “Would you shut the fucking door already?”

  Irina’s jaw dropped. In her fugue state, she had somehow not registered the fact that she was still standing there in an open door, where anyone could walk by and see. She sputtered, “You two are—oh, my god, there are just some things I will never be able to unsee!”

  Irina slammed the door behind her, rolling her eyes when she heard a cackle from her sister on the other side. Once she figured out what the hell was going on, Galina would be next on her revenge list.

  Behind her, Irina heard Viktor duck his head into the cloakroom and utter a low, “Oh, come on, Lupesco!”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The man her father wanted her to marry was fucking her sister. And quite well, it seemed.

  On the one hand, Galina’s attachment to Andrey might get her out of marrying Andrey, which would solve a lot of her problems. On the other, if it didn’t get out her out of the marriage, then she was going to make Galina, Andrey and herself miserable. Well, that is, if Andrey actually felt something for Galina. And if he didn’t, Irina might just have to kill her potential husband, because a guy just shouldn’t go downtown on a girl during a tense family outing unless he had some emotional connection to her. She would not allow her sister to be treated like that…by Irina’s own possibly-future-husband. Who may or may not have had something to do with Irina’s former husband being shot.

  This was like some fucked up Shakespearean version of Days of Our Lives.

  Still flustered and flushed, Irina made her way down the hallway leading to the private boxes. She just needed to sit, as far away from Viktor as possible, and use her time in the dark theater to figure out what the hell was going on. Irina grabbed the door handle of the family box, or what she thought was the family box. It was actually an empty box, empty save for the figure of her brother who was leaning back against the wall, hidden by a short curtain. Nik’s face was tilted back, frozen in an expression of ecstasy. Irina followed the line of his arm, down to where his fingers were threaded through a dark head of hair. Irina gasped as she realized that shape she had difficulty discerning in the darkness was Konstantin, kneeling in front of her brother in his black tuxedo, doing things she didn’t want to think about. Before she could be yelled at by another sibling for coitus interruptus, Irina quickly and quietly closed the door behind her. She leaned her head against the wall, fanning her face.

  “What the hell is it about the ballet?” she wondered as Viktor finally caught up with her, tugging his tie into place.

  “Irina, wait,” he whispered. He pulled a clear spray bottle marked Wolfsbane from his jacket and covered her in a fine mist of faintly floral-scented liquid, particularly around her thighs. Suddenly, she remembered Viktor disappearing into the box before the family entered, presumably to check for anything out of place. Spraying essence of wolfsbane around the seats would have deadened the werewolves’ senses, leaving them unable to smell a skunk sitting in their laps, much less a little human arousal.

  “So you set this up?” she demanded, smacking him with her little sequined clutch. “You went in ahead of us and sprayed the box down with wolfsbane? So you could get under my dress, in front of my father and brother and who knows who else? What, you wanted to find a new way to stress me out?”

  Viktor held her wrists to prevent further sequin-smacking. “I did spray the box down before your family took their seats. I figured between Andrey and Galina being together and me sitting near you, some form of pheromone was going to start flying around. I didn’t want Alexei or your papa to have any reason to suspect you. I did it to keep you safe…the hand under the dress thing, well…I have a hard time sitting next to you without touching you. And you looked so tense. There’s really no other excuse. I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not!”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m really not.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “So, you knew about Galina and Andrey?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean it makes it easier to see Andrey taking your arm, touching you. But yes, I figured it out a while ago.”

  Irina frowned at him.

  He shrugged. “You should see the way they look at each other when they think no one is looking.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, wrinkling her face in distaste.

  “What is your sister up to anyway?” Viktor asked. “She’s been taking all of these sec
ret meetings with your father, asking to see the books, making suggestions. Between that and the Andrey thing, she seems to have some sort of agenda at work.”

  “Galina wants a seat at the table,” she told him, waiting for the explosion of laughter. When it didn’t come, she shot Viktor a curious look.

  He shrugged. “It makes sense. She’ll probably get it. She’s like the unholy child of ambition and a steamroller.”

  Irina snorted, loudly, making Viktor grin.

  “Did you know about Konstantin and Nik?” she asked carefully.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “That was a surprise.”

  “You can’t say anything,” Irina told him.

  “I wouldn’t,” he promised.

  “Oh, don’t pull that Boy Scout routine with me—I-I am still very mad at you!” she said, pointing her finger in his face.

  “I know,” he said, giving her a hangdog pout.

  “Oh, don’t you make those puppy dog eyes at me,” she told him. “They have no effect on me.”

  He measured “this much” effect between his thumb and forefinger. “They have a little effect on you.”

  She rolled her own eyes and turned on her heel, locating the correct door for the family box. Irina returned to the second row, but sat at the end, behind Papa, where her thighs and her brain were safe. Both Papa and Alexei were fast asleep, and hadn’t noticed that they were the only ones left in the box. Viktor looked faintly hurt that Irina sat so far away, but showed enough judgment not to move closer to her.

  Eventually, Galina and Andrey returned to their seats, followed by Nik and Konstantin. Galina tried to speak to her sister, but Irina held up a “shushing” finger in her face and said, “I am going to murder you.”

  Irina barely registered watching the rest of the ballet, though she did have a sympathetic twinge for Odette when she threw herself into a lake rather than remain a swan forever. She could definitely identify with suicidal-slash-homicidal impulses at the moment.

  The curtain lowered and Irina pulled it together enough to stand for the ovation. Papa and Alexei jerked awake at the roar of applause and rose to their feet. Papa shouted, “Brava, brava!” as if he’d been awake, enjoying the performance the whole time. Alexei blinked sleepily and stumbled out of the box as Papa clapped Andrey on the shoulder and interrogated him on his favorite parts of the ballet. Andrey winked at Irina as they exited the box and she gave him her best reactive bitch face. Galina stood, combing her fingers through her blond waves and applied a coat of blood-red lipstick.