by Tillie Cole
“Krasivaya,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. 901 crushed his mouth to mine. Unlike the previous kisses, there was nothing possessive about this. 901’s lips covered mine with a gentle yet consuming intensity. I moaned in surprise when I felt his tongue pushing into my mouth. I tensed at first, unsure what to do, but when my tongue brushed against his, it troubled me no more.
901’s heavy body smothered mine, and my hands slipped from his neck and down along the breadth of his back. 901 groaned low, the sound traveling straight to my core. I gasped at the feel of him above me, needing this as much as I did. 901 moved his head back, and staring in my eyes, he slipped his hand down between us, his fingers reaching between my legs.
I cried out, holding on to his shoulders when his fingers drifted along my core. My back arched and my skin scalded with heat. But this time there were no drugs causing me to need this moment. This was me and this was him. This was us choosing this act for ourselves, taking this pleasure because we wanted each other freely. In a world of iron cages and bars, we were taking something of our own.
901’s warm breath ghosted across my face. He was breathing hard, not so different from me. I cried out when a teasing burst of pleasure arrived due to his gentle touch. 901 stilled and looked down at me. I could see the concern on his face. “Is this okay?” he asked, his hardness pressing against my thigh.
“Yes,” I replied breathlessly. “More. Touch me some more.” I felt my face heat at my brazen words, but when 901 growled low and began moving his fingers again, I was lost to his touch.
901 teased and he played, and when his finger slowly entered my channel, I broke apart on a loud shout, blistering light and pure pleasure splintering me apart.
901 pulled his hand away, and just as he did, I opened my eyes. His handsome face was stern and anxious as he watched for my reaction. When I eventually smiled, he exhaled a relieved breath and covered my body again. Showing him what I wanted, what I was choosing, I wrapped my legs around his hips and reached down to take his length in my hand. He hissed out in pleasure and gritted his teeth as my fingers wrapped around him. As I guided him to my channel, he paused to drop the sweetest soft kiss on my forehead, before pushing forward and filling me to the hilt.
901’s head snapped back and a low groan slipped from his tensed lips. My eyes rolled back as he sat within me so perfectly. Before moving again, 901 hooked his thick arms under my shoulders and slowly began to rock. With every movement, I felt the darkness in my soul lift, and with every kiss on my face from his soft mouth, my heart beat louder and louder.
“Moy prekrasnyy,” he whispered as his breathing increased in speed.
“Moy voin,” I whispered back. We didn’t have names. Our numbers weren’t welcome in this moment. Right now I was his beautiful, and he was my brave warrior.
901’s thrusts grew faster and faster as the minutes passed by. I moaned loud when tingles spread on my thighs. 901’s length twitched within me, and I knew we were both getting close.
901’s arms kept me close to his chest, and just before my body filled with the brightest of light, he brought his mouth to take mine, swallowing my cries.
My body arched as 901 roared out his release. His head drew back as his neck corded from the strain. His wounded body was flushed and damp. It was perfect, this moment was perfect, as was he.
The billowed warm air from the shower’s heat was sticking to our skin. It bumped when a cold draft from the cell door circled around us. 901’s head fell onto my shoulder. I stroked at his back, feeling a strange lightness in my heart.
Just as I tried to think what this sensation was, 901 lifted his head. “I feel different.” He pulled his arm from under mine. He placed his hand over his chest and said, “In my heart. It feels different. Changed.”
My stomach flipped knowing he was feeling this, too. Taking in a much-needed breath, I asked, “Does it feel light, like at any moment it might combust?” 901 nodded his head, his understanding expression telling me I had described it completely correct.
“What is it?” he asked, lines of confusion creasing on his forehead.
Following what my heart was telling me to say, I replied, “I think it means we have found a peace within each other’s arms. I think it means…” I trailed off, unsure if it was the right word to use.
“What?” he pushed. “Tell me.”
Combing my hand through his hair, just so I could touch him once more, I nervously said, “Happy?” I lost my breath when 901 stilled. Finding the last of my courage, I added, “I think it means we are … happy.”
901 froze, then with watery eyes, he repeated. “Happy. Together, we make happiness.”
I smiled. I smiled freely and uncaged. And when 901 moved beside me and wrapped me in his strong arms, I fell asleep with my hand over his chest, with the heady feeling of this newfound happiness in my heart.
11
LUKA
Undisclosed Location
Georgia
Eastern Europe
My leg bounced as the plane began its descent. Viktor was at the front of the plane getting the documents in order. Abel, his contact, had come through for him. Zaal and Valentine sat opposite me. Zaal was the picture of calm as he sat stoically in his seat. Valentin was the complete opposite. His eyes were wild and his body twitched like he was still on the drugs they’d pumped into our bodies for so many years.
Over the past few weeks, Valentin had thrown himself into the practice of death-match fighting. His focus was solely on using his rage to his advantage. As he had promised, his skill with the unpowered picanas was astounding. His strength and ability to kill with efficiency were no less than Zaal’s and mine. But the best part of Valentin’s arsenal was his unwavering belief and drive to get his sister back. That desire would override any lack of training he might have in combat. As an Ubiytsa, his ability to kill was unrivaled. He would be fine.
Seeing the land of Georgia coming into view from Kirill’s private plane, I leaned forward, Valentin and Zaal meeting my eyes. Placing my hand on the table between us, I asked, “You’re sure you’re clear with the plan?”
Zaal nodded, and Valentin spat out, “Yes.”
Needing to make sure, I said, “Viktor is the manager of a New York gulag. Not the Volkovs. Abel has already approved us without question, so to Master we are simply another underground fight ring. Nothing of importance.” Zaal and Valentin listened hard. “I am the ultimate champion, retrieved from escape.” A rush of sadness spread in my chest. I was using what had happened to Anri in my story. It was plausible. Clearing my throat, I pointed at Zaal. “You were bought from the Volkov Russians. You were too feral and untamed. Viktor bought you to fight in his gulag.”
Zaal nodded.
I next pointed to Valentin. “After your collar malfunctioned, you killed Mistress and her Wraiths. You have no memory of this. One of the Wraiths survived and knew of Viktor’s gulag. He sold you and fled the U.S.”
Valentin’s lip curled in disgust, but he nodded. Keeping his attention, I said, “We’ve talked this through a thousand times, but if and when you see your sister, you mustn’t react. Hold yourself together until the opportunity to strike arrives. If she is still alive after all this time, she will survive for a further few days.”
“Then the Master is mine,” he growled, and I nodded in agreement.
“Then he is yours. But for that to happen, you must stick to the plan. If one of us fucks up and reveals who we truly are, they will kill us on the spot.”
A sudden flash of fear passed over Valentin’s face. “I can’t leave my Zoya,” he said, an almost gentle edge to his harsh-sounding voice. It was strange hearing such sentiment from such a brutal male.
Zaal lifted his hand and put it on Valentin’s shoulder. A peace had settled between them over the past few weeks. Zaal had seen himself as Valentin trained in the cage. He was fighting for his sister’s return, just as Zaal had fought so hard for his. “We won’t fuck up. We will destroy th
is place, then return home to our females.”
Valentin’s wide shoulders relaxed. Kisa’s tearful face entered my head. Her good-bye to me this morning. Zaal, Talia, Valentin, and Zoya had arrived at my father’s house to leave for the airfield. From the night I told Kisa what I was to do, she had said nothing in response. She knew I had to do this. It didn’t mean I couldn’t see the terror and concern every time she looked at me over the past few weeks.
She held my hand longer, she kissed me softer, and she made love to me every chance she got. I glanced down at my hand, and I could still feel her kiss on my palm as I said good-bye to her this morning. Talia and Zoya had proved themselves to be just as strong as my wife. They had supported their males. If this all went according to plan, after this battle there would be no more war to fight.
Blinking away the memory and emotion on Kisa’s face, I looked to my brothers and said, “We will win. There is no other choice.”
“And the fourth warrior in the champion round?” Zaal questioned.
“He gets on board or we take him out first. Whatever we have to do.” My hands clenched into fists on the table, and the old surge of adrenaline flooded my veins. “We will kill many. That includes fighters that are too far gone or any that stand in our way. We do not give second chances, we do not hesitate to strike those that try to stop us. We kill quickly. We kill without mercy.”
Zaal and Valentin nodded.
I sat back in my seat as the plane descended. “How far is the pit from the airfield?” I asked Valentin.
“No more than twenty minutes,” Valentin replied. “The airfield is Arziani’s. Wraiths will guide our van to the loading door.”
Nodding, I reached for the hem of my sweater and pulled it over my head. When my bare torso was on display, I retrieved my worn but trusted knuckle-dusters from my bag. I stared at the metal, felt the bladed tips with my finger to make sure they were sharp. When a bud of blood formed on my finger, I felt the excitement of being back in this place spark inside me. The old Raze stirring inside, waking from the sleep I had kept him in for months.
With a deep breath, I slipped the knuckle-dusters in place. I bent my fingers, feeling the weight of them once again in my hands.
When I looked up, I saw Zaal had followed my lead. He looked every inch a gulag fighter, bare chested and wearing only the standard black pants. And in his hands were his black sais. From this vantage point, as Zaal’s eyes remained cast down to stare at his weapons, I felt like I was here with Anri once again.
I fought a smirk at how my best friend would have relished in this moment. He would have stormed into this fight like a hurricane of rage, taking Master and his Wraiths out with a smile on his face. When Zaal looked up at me, he asked, “You think of my brother?”
My chest tightened, but I replied truthfully, “Yes.”
Zaal nodded sadly. I knew it still bothered him that his memories were almost gone of his twin. Only fragments of their childhood remained. “This is the moment he wished for,” I said, thinking of our parting in Alaska. “He was coming back to find you and destroy this place. He didn’t quite remember, but he knew his heart was being called here.”
Zaal’s green eyes brightened.
“I was just thinking of how he would have rejoiced in this moment. Finally getting to meet the male that created this hell. Getting to return to the slave factory where you were experimented on like rats.” I huffed a laugh. “He would have burned it to the ground with a laugh bursting from his chest.”
Zaal didn’t say anything in response.
“And we will. In his memory, we will do as he would.” My eyes darted to Valentin, who was sitting bare chested with his sharp picanas in his hand. Zaal looked to his new brother. Valentin looked to him. “Every move we make in this pit will be in Anri’s honor. We will attack and survive as he would … then we will burn it to the ground, just as he would.”
Several long seconds passed before Zaal nodded. “Yes,” he agreed in a husky voice. “We will do this for Anri.”
Zaal’s eyes drifted to look out the window as the ground approached. When Valentin looked to me, I nodded my head in thanks. Hope sprouted in my heart at Valentin’s unexpected words. He was sitting stoic, like I had told him to be. His moods were unpredictable and his rage uncontained. But here, seated before me, was a male that met the story Viktor would tell. A savage male captured and made into a brutal killer.
I knew the male underneath, the one seething with rage. The one willing to risk anything for his sister.
The plane bumped as we landed. Viktor looked back from his seat at the front. Four of Zaal’s males had been brought along. They would play the part of Viktor’s Georgian gulag’s guards.
When the plane drew to a stop, several cars and vans stopped beside us. Wraiths.
Valentin growled low in his throat when males dressed all in black left the cars. Flicking my wrist, I gestured for Zaal and Valentin to take their places. Three of Zaal’s males came toward us and attached rope around our necks. My muscles tensed at being back in this position. The male that was holding my rope sent me an apologetic look. It helped calm the flames sparking in my chest.
When I glanced to Zaal, he was calm and quiet. Valentin, at having something back around his neck, wasn’t faring so well. But he held it together.
The sound of the plane door opening cut through the cabin, and my heart slammed against my chest. Viktor disappeared down the steps. We were all quiet in the plane as we listened to Viktor discussing his “cargo” with the Wraiths. Ten minutes later, Viktor shouted for us to disembark.
Zaal’s byki led us forward by our rope collars. I went first, Zaal following behind. Valentin was at the rear.
The night was black. As I was led down the steps, I glanced up through a fallen strand of hair and saw miles and miles of what appeared to be barren wasteland. The perfect disguise, I thought, knowing that beneath the ground was a slave city.
The Wraiths were gathered in a perfect formation. Their guns were loaded and aimed at us, just in case we charged. They stared at me as I stopped to stand next to Viktor. A few of them murmured in quiet whispers when Zaal stopped, too. But their reaction to Valentin trudging down the steps was clear to anyone with eyes. The guards tensed and stared at the monstrous scarred male as he descended to the tarmac.
The Wraith in charge stared at Valenin in shock. Moving closer to Viktor, he said, “So you weren’t lying, you truly have 194 in your gulag.”
Viktor nodded. A fake prideful smile on his face. He too was acting the part of the perfect gulag owner. “We do. And he is one of the best fighters I have ever seen. He will give your champions a challenge like no other.” He pointed to us all when Valentin came to stand by our sides. “They all will.”
I could see by the Wraith’s expression that he believed Viktor. I could also see that he was impressed by us. Relief settled in my bones. If the Wraiths thought us strong and viable males, in comparison to their own, then we had a chance for our plan to work.
The head Wraith pointed to the van. “Load them in there,” he said to our byki. Zaal’s males did as ordered and placed us in the back of the van. We were all silent as we were plunged into darkness. I knew it was Valentin who sat beside me. The male’s body was pulsing with aggression.
“Calm,” I whispered in Russian.
“Wraiths,” he snarled low and almost unheard.
“Calm,” I repeated just as the van began to move. Valentin took long, deep breaths.
The tension thickened the farther we drove. Until we came to a stop. In seconds the back doors were opened and our byki reached for our roped necks. When we got out of the van, I took in what was before us. We were standing in the center of a large compound, enclosed by high, dark fences. There was barbed wire covering the tops. Two large watchtowers were in sight, but I couldn’t see the others; the wall stretched too far. Each tower was manned by at least three guards.
When the other cars stopped beside us, I saw Zaal
and Valentin scanning the perimeter. They were recording all this for future use. But other than the walls and the towers, there was nothing. Nothing but a steep set of steps descending into the earth. No buildings, no life, just barren land and these stairs.
The head Wraith jumped from a blacked-out jeep, followed by several of his males. He indicated for us to follow and began walking down the steps. Our byki guided us down, Viktor walking out in front.
The steps were many, then at last we came to a large set of steel doors. The head Wraith banged on the metal. The heavy doors creaked open, revealing a dank, wide tunnel beyond.
After we entered the tunnel, the doors slammed behind us. The Wraiths’ heavy boots echoed off the stone floor. We walked for what felt like miles, until we arrived at another large set of doors. Beyond these doors were more steps, followed by many hallways. The head Wraith paused just before leading us down the left tunnel. “You have been privileged, Viktor,” he said proudly. “Master wants to see you and your fighters.” His gaze then fixed on Valentin, and ice filled my muscles. “He wants to meet the monster that slayed his sister.”
Valentin tensed beside me. But Viktor played into the role. “I’d be honored,” he replied, and the head Wraith smiled.
“Come,” the head Wraith ordered. We followed him down the narrow hallway. With every step, my mind raced with what we would do if Master wanted to punish Valentin. I prayed that Valentin wouldn’t react first when coming eye to eye with the male that had called his sister back to his pit. The male that had become Master to his sister. The male that was using her for sex.
The hallways were winding and long, but eventually we entered a large hall, the size of it surprising. A table stood at the end of the space, and around it were three males. I immediately sought out Arziani. He carried himself like many of the crime bosses in New York did—arrogantly, like he was the most powerful male in the world. I supposed here, in this underground town, he was.