Knox Brotherhood

by Knox, Elizabeth

  I flash back to reality with Anton still cupping my neck. Rusev, my memory is of Rusev, of a man who drew me in with his good looks and maybe a bit of his bad boy ways. He constantly called me a whore, and he would hit me and beat me. This is why what Anton has said hurts me so much. It brings all of it back, when I promised I would never be that woman again.

  Rusev was the kind of man to break a woman down and strip them of all their strength. He called me a whore so many times I started to believe it. I wasn’t the strong woman I am now back then. I was battered and beaten. Broken. That's the right word for what I was. I was a pathetic excuse for a human, the lowest of the low. I will never be that girl again. I can't be. But I am so afraid that this is where I am headed, yet again. I can’t get off the tracks. I made a stop for a while, but now I am back chugging along apparently.

  It's been a little over a year since I have seen Rusev, since I did go to my uncle for help. I have grown strong and learned to live up to my last name; Kolosov. Jan saved me, gave me the means to support myself and get out before it was too late. He wasn't here to save me now, and he would be so ashamed to know I landed myself back with another man who would do it all over again.

  My eyes begin to water at the thought. I do not cry ever, I am too strong for this. At the very least, I can’t cry in front of him.

  I shove him hard, getting out of his grasp before I grab the dress back off the bed and go into the closet. I shut the door to it behind me, before sliding slowly against it down to the floor. My knees come up to meet my head as I let the tears fall slowly and silently out of my eyes.

  I know at some point I have to stand up and get ready. He is not going to let me stay in here and sulk all night even if I want to. I am going to be forced to go to that party in this dress.

  So, I stand up, sliding back up the door for support. I feel blotchy and know I will need extra time to fix my face. I pray that when the dress is on, and I have to come out to put on makeup, he is gone from my room.

  I strip my clothes off and go to the small drawer in the corner digging through it, glad when I find some white panties. At least it will be something. Not much, but something. I don't dare wear a bra with this, though. I slip them and the dress on, looking in the mirror on the opposite wall in disgust. The panties still don’t do much, but they blend in rather well with the dress. Some might even think they are a part of it, connected to it somehow. My tits are right there though, bursting out the top and my nipples are left uncovered. There is nothing I can do about this, and I am resigned to it.

  I leave the closet and look around. He is not there, but I know if I don't hurry I just might get a repeat of a few minutes ago, which I am not emotionally up for. I need a moment to shut myself off to prepare for the rest for the evening at this party.

  I go to the vanity and pull out all of my makeup, just dumping it out so I can see what all I have there. I picked the darkest colors as always. I like it that way, and besides, if he wants me to play the part for a whore, then I am going to lay it on real thick for him. I make my eyes even darker than usual, surrounding them with black. My liner, shadow, and lashes are all black, all the way up and down. I hardly recognize myself. My lips are a blood red, and I do a great job of making my scar barely visible. I am ready for a show.

  CHAPTER 10

  Yes, I over-think. But I also over-love. Anonymous

  Anton

  I am getting impatient, but I don't press the issue. I knew when she flew into that closet and locked herself in there I had done something to make her upset; to make her break. My thoughts went back to that damn scar and how she got it. I need to know how she got it. I feel like that will unravel the mystery that is Natasha, so I can make her melt into my arms and be mine without all this effort or this hatred between the two of us.

  She finally comes out of her room, and I notice that she has a well-placed pair of white panties on under that dress. The thing still shows off enough skin that the men at the party will think the same thing of her as I mean for them to, as I want her to believe that they think. So, I don't press the issue.

  I lead her out to the car that's waiting to take us to the party, one that will be held at a huge luxury hotel on the beach. I don't necessarily like parties. I like more private events better, and dark places like clubs, like the place where I met Natasha. But this is part of my job, especially now that I lead two Clans. I have to mingle and make myself a part of everything. I have to bring the woman that makes the fact I lead two Clans possible with me, to make a statement.

  We get into the car, and I see that she is, as usual, staying as far away from me as possible, looking out the tinted windows as if some amazing artifact might pass us by and she might miss it.

  I know I have upset her, I can see it in her posture, her legs crossing away from me, her back stiffened. This is something more than what was already keeping us apart from one another. I hate that I fucking care, that I want to know anything about her feelings. I wasn't raised in an environment to be that way, and in fact, I am meant to be the complete opposite. As a Clan leader, I am ruthless. I don't give a fuck. I can’t if I want to survive in this world around me. If anyone knew how I cared, I am not sure they would fear me as much. I do not have the king status to fall back on like Ion does. I do not have a Vasile by my side, just a woman who could bear the next Constantine. It doesn't mean as much.

  But, I fucking care. Do you know why I fucking care so damn much about how Natasha feels? It’s because I fucking love her. Yeah, Anton Balan of all people is in love. What a cruel joke this is. I wonder if this is part of the universe paying me back for all the things I have done in the name of the Clans. It wouldn't surprise me one damn bit.

  I want to know what I did as I look her over in that dress. She is mesmerizing, and I’ll be damned if anyone actually touches her tonight other than me. They will look, they will lust, they will imagine, but in no way will I let her be the piece of ass I want her to look like. It’s all a show. That’s all the Clans are at all anymore, one big show. I plan on putting on a good one.

  I am not good at discussing feelings, at knowing what to say to a woman. I don't think I have an example to go by, as I have never felt quite this way about anyone. I look at her, and I want to find the words to get what I need out of her, but something more cruel shoots out, inserted before I can stop it. It’s this mask I have put on, this way I have to pretend has become automatic. I don't know who I am anymore.

  “You need to change your attitude because we will be at the party in a few minutes, and I can't take you in while you are sulking.”

  “Yes, Master,” she replies to me, that fire of hers coming back to bite me in the ass. I was wrong about her being upset. She is not that, at least not anymore. Right now, she is good and pissed at me. I can feel it radiating off her. I can’t help but smile at her, though, at her hostility towards me. She has such fire, and that is exactly what I love about her. I saw it on the dance floor when I summoned her to see me. I felt it the first time we had sex. I knew it in every quip of what she shot at me was just as good as my own. She is so sexy like this, even if right now she doesn’t want me to think that about her.

  I can’t hold back anymore, especially knowing how close we are to the party. I want to make a move and damn it, I am going to make it now.

  I grab her body and pull Natasha on top of me. My hand tangles in that gorgeous, long, dark flame of hair she has as I pull her lips down to mine. I kiss her, hard. I kiss her so that she can feel it in her womb, and all the way down to her toes that she has crammed into a pair of fuck-me-heels.

  She is trying to push away from me, but I am not having it at all. I take both of her hands in one of mine behind her back, using all my strength to hold them there so she can’t resist me. I want her to feel this kiss the way she used to.

  Natasha molds against me, and my heart holds a small bit of hope that she feels what she did about us being together in this moment, before the shit show named Jan C
onstantin fucked it all up for us.

  My other hand tugs just a little at her hair, and my tongue slides into her mouth. I am going to take whatever she is willing to give right now.

  All too soon, the car begins to slow, and I know this will have to stop so the show can begin. I break the kiss slowly with a satisfied and disappointed sigh at the same time. “You’re so sexy when you're fired up,” I tell her, my hand brushing across her face as I finally let her hands go so she is free. She still stays, frozen for a moment to listen. So, I say what I have needed to say for some time now.

  “I miss you, Natasha. I miss us.” This is the most vulnerable a man like me will ever be, so I hope she appreciates it. I hope she feels something right now.

  CHAPTER 11

  The beautiful thing about life is that you can always change, grow & get better. You aren’t defined by your past. You aren’t your mistakes. -This Joy Love Life Quotes

  Natasha

  We are at a hotel bar, the kind where only the elite come. It makes sense that this has to do with the Clans in some way, or at least Clan Balan and the crowd it keeps, considering how much it must have cost to rent this place out. The bar on one side is entirely plain. The whole place is silver and white, a little too bright for my taste. It makes me look like a ghost in that dress, beyond the floating head of dark red hair that frames my face.

  There are eyes on me the instant I walk in, just as I expected, and it makes it easy to forget that kiss I shared with Anton in the car. I remember the reason I have to be angry at him, even if he caught me in a moment of lustful weakness. Okay, maybe not just lust, but that doesn’t mean I have to just give in, forgive and forget. It's not time yet. We can settle this after I make it through this horrible night and see how bad it gets. I know for a fact it could get horrible.

  Anton’s hand is on my back possessively. I don't try to step away from him, because I know there are worse men at this party than him. He is my protection tonight and will be for as long as I feel like I need him. Even if I leave his side, I have to believe he won't let anything happen to me, just eyes. It’s only eyes. That's what I tell myself.

  A man approaches us, the kind that looks like a shark. His hair is a sandy brown and his eyes a cobalt color. If I didn't realize the way he was looking at me in this dress, I might have thought he was a handsome man. Not now. I think I am ruined now.

  “When you’re finished with this one, I want a round.” Those are the first words that leave his lips, and I know I can't say a damn thing about it. I am disgusted by this. Anton smiles and chuckles, but I feel his arm tense around me. I think it’s best to get my composure really quick, and maybe touch up the makeup after that passionate episode in the car.

  I whisper in Anton's ear. “Please, excuse me to the lady’s room.” He nods his permission and let’s go reluctantly, continuing the conversation with the man I dare not listen in on at this point.

  When I get to the restroom, I quickly do my business and go to the mirror to touch up my makeup. I begin to whisper a mantra to myself. “I can get through this,” I say so quietly that whoever is in the stall will not be able to hear. “I am Natasha Kolosov.” I know in my heart that all I have to do, is wait for my father to find me. He will get me out of this mess with Anton. At least I hope that he will. He has to.

  Instead of going straight back to Anton, I know I need a drink to put up with this. A little bit of liquid courage. I need something strong, a go to.

  I order specifically, an Imperia Vodka. I only drink the best. I don't drink that other cheap, nasty knockoff shit.

  “Old habits die hard, yes?” I hear his voice coming from behind me, and I almost do not want to believe the familiarity of it. It has to be an illusion, but as I turn around and look, there he is, my ex-fiancé Rusev, standing right behind me at the bar. Maybe I should have gone straight back to Anton. This is not the night to run into him. Hell, there is never a good night to see this man again.

  I haven't seen him in so long, but it feels like yesterday when I left him for good. It's funny how memories work that way. All the beatings and the mark he left on me are fresh in my mind right then and there. That is happening way too much lately.

  I don't even notice for a moment when he first reaches his hand out to me, landing it on my jawline he traces the scar that with makeup can only be seen this close to me now. I was so absorbed with my thoughts that it took me a moment to react, but this was disgusting. This is not how this chance meeting is going to fucking go. This is going to be on my terms now, because I know better. Rusev’s spell was broken long ago.

  I decide in this moment that I will show him no fear. Why? Fear gives Rusev power, and he is never going to have power over me, not again. I know this for a fact. I may be under another man’s thumb, but I also know there is a way out. I will never stop looking and hoping for a way out, whether it is giving into my feelings for the man or escaping with my father.

  I am not the scared little girl that Rusev used to know. His eyes pierce through me, but it does nothing to me. There is no knot in my stomach, no reason to look down as if I am worth any less. That is not who I am now. Just knowing that means more than anyone could imagine. I know I can’t be crushed. I can’t be controlled quite like that. I will always be kicking and screaming my way out, refusing to be the girl that I once was.

  My uncle, Jan, made sure to give me the support I needed to transform into the strong woman I was always meant to be. He was always telling me that I was strong; that I was strong just like my mother. I may not have known the woman, but I saw pictures, heard stories, and I believed it. I knew he was telling me the truth about her. Only a strong woman could marry and have children with a Kolosov. I know enough about my father to know that.

  What I do next, I do it to keep Jan and his memory alive, to do it justice. He would want to see me fight, and deep down I wish he were here to see this moment when I finally do more than just run or cower from the man that had me so broken down before, had me believing I was nothing but trash, a whore. Jan is smiling from somewhere, Heaven or Hell, it doesn’t matter. He is going to know that he taught me well and that I owe him one.

  Maybe, my mother is watching me too. Maybe, she is willing this strength to me from wherever she is. I can’t imagine she would want to see me so oppressed by men either.

  I lift my open palm and slap his hand, forcing it off of my face. It was a hard slap, the kind that everyone could hear as I make contact with his bare skin. My hand is red, but I don't care. How dare this man touch me after I have been gone from his grasp for a year now. How dare he think he has the right to touch me ever again. How dare he touch my scar, the one he gave me. What was he fucking doing anyway, admitting his handiwork? It wouldn't surprise me with this bastard. He is capable of anything evil there is to do in the world without remorse, without a rhyme or reason to it. He is just a narcissistic parasite.

  I look him dead in the eye and ask him the one question I know he will have the answer to, the only one he is important enough to get an answer out of for. Otherwise, I would walk away and leave him wanting, leave him gasping for air as I suck out the marrow he gets when he tries to bring women like me down.

  “Where is my father?” I ask him, my head beginning to scan the room already to see if I can spot the man. If Rusev is here, then my father must be here. They are generally part of a packaged deal as far as business goes, even if I have nothing to do with this evil man anymore. The only good news about me running into Rusev is this. My father can get me out of this mess with Anton with a snap of his fingers, possibly less.

  “He’s not here,” Rusev says, reaching out his hand and pulling a piece of my hair up to his nostrils. He takes a deep breath in, his eyes closing as he savors my scent. I slap him away once again, turning around to grab my drink and backing up a bit. I don't know if I believe what he says about my father not being here. Why wouldn't he be?

  “I don't believe you.”

  “He is in Russia, a
nd he is there on business Tasha, with your dear step-mother.” His tongue flicks out when he says it just like the snake he is. I glare at him as I take a swig of my drink. I definitely need this. This is ridiculous.

  Rusev surveys me in the dress, and I am reminded, yet again, about the see-through nature of it. He, of all people, should not get to see me like this, but I hold myself high and pretend like I totally mean to do this. Maybe it’s the best revenge I have against him for all he did; making him miss my body. That was probably the only thing about me he actually cared for.

  Rusev begins to laugh, the kind of evil laugh you expect from a villain on a children’s cartoon. I don't like it one bit, and people are starting to notice us over here. Maybe that’s a good thing, for me anyway. I don't know how Anton will take me making a scene with my ex-fiancé.

  “What's so fucking funny?” I ask him, getting annoyed.

  “I heard a rumor that you are now the personal whore of Clan Balan.” There is that word again, and my blood boils a little. I drink down more of my vodka. He has clearly been misinformed, considering I have nothing to do with anyone in that Clan other than Anton himself. I have not been in any other man's bed, though it does look bad for me with this dress and this party. There is no point in correcting him as he sneers at me. “Your father didn't seem to care much about your new status when he heard, or about the death of Jan Constantin, for that matter.”

  I suddenly wish that I had the ability to kill with a look, laser eyes or something like a superhero. Rusev would be so dead right now. There may be a chance he is right, but my bets are on him twisting the truth about my father. My father may think there is something in this for him or maybe biding his time, but he doesn't simply not care, especially when I could be good business for him with Jan dead, if nothing else.