by Bree Porter
What else? My eyes darted to his fingers. “The subjects involved have to stay the same.”
His smirk was nothing but dangerous. “They will definitely remain the same.”
His thumbs began to move in slow circles. The stimulation stole my attention, the soft press of his thumb, the goosebumps rising along my thigh…
He was so close to the faint throbbing, so near and yet so far.
“Have we covered all our bases?”
Technically, no, but I was sick of playing his little game. I wanted to feel his fingers inside of me. Now.
I nodded.
Konstantin smiled like he had seen straight into my lie. “Well, then, shall we begin?” He stretched my legs further, pressing them into the sides of the bath.
My heart began to speed up, a rapid drumming in my chest. I could feel my gut twist in anticipation, my thighs shake in prediction.
He drew his hands up higher and higher, closer and closer, until they were dangerous close to me.
“Lyubimaya,” he purred, hands cupping my thighs. His tattoos stood out starkly against my unblemished skin, images of birds and daggers staring up at me.
“Konstantin,” I breathed.
His eyes snapped up to mine, a small smile playing on his lips. “Relax, lyubimaya. The banya is for relaxing.”
I didn’t think I was ever going to relax again. My bones were about to rip from my skin, my legs were shaking, the throbbing was increasing.
Konstantin leaned down to my left thigh, pressing his lips to my knee. Soft and warm, he trailed his lips higher and higher until he could breathe in the scent of me, see the effects of his teasing.
His smile told me he did.
But he didn’t go where my thigh directed him. Instead he pulled himself back up and paid attention to my right knee. Once again, he trailed kisses down the sensitive skin, only this time I felt the scrape of teeth, the press of his incisors.
My heart sped up further.
“Konstantin,” I breathed, both a warning and a plea.
“Patience, lyubimaya. Good things take time.”
I didn’t want him to take time. I wanted to feel his lips on me now.
Konstantin’s thumbs hadn’t stopped their rubbing, only growing harder as he pressed his lips against me.
His hands stretched out suddenly, pinning me to the side of the bath. The strength was firm but gentle.
Water sloshed as he crouched down, his muscles straining and creasing as he got into position. He was deep enough that water lapped over his shoulders, hiding his naked form from me.
“Lyubimaya,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to my inner thigh. He was so close now, so close I could feel his hot breath against the nakedness of me.
Konstantin’s teeth pressed lightly into my skin, causing me to cry out at the sensation. The mix of pain and anticipation was too much to be quiet over.
He pressed a kiss to the place he had bitten, rubbing his nose over it with care.
“Konstantin, please,” I cried out. Pride be damned; the only thing on my mind was his touch, the feel of him as he—
Konstantin moved closer to my center. His hot breath blew against the sensitive spot of my inner thighs.
The throbbing grew greater.
“Lyubimaya,” he murmured, his lips dancing over my sensitive flesh as he said my name. His nose nuzzled closer, feeling the wetness and heat.
He growled low in his chest, his hands holding me tighter.
“Konstantin—”
Hearing the begging in his name, he blew onto my wet sex again. The sensation sent shivers shooting through my body, grabbing my breasts in heavy phantom holds and forcing my heart to race faster in my chest.
I felt his hair tickle my inner thigh, his fingers press tighter, his hot breath.
And then he pressed his lips to me.
Soft at first, tasting.
They teased me softly with butterfly kisses. His lips against mine.
I tipped my head back, breathing hard. “Konstantin—”
The pressure of his tongue reached out.
A cry erupted from my throat as his tongue stroked me. Up and down, side to side, the movement unhurried and hard.
His lips caught my clit, sucking on it.
Another moan came from me. The sensation was too much, too vulnerable and hot and wet. I could feel his lips and tongue against me, soothing and growing the throbbing sensation that threatened to overwhelm me.
Konstantin’s grip grew harder, holding me prisoner.
I didn’t care. I was unable to move, to breathe, to do anything but focus on the feeling of him.
Water splashed as his movements grew faster, as my feet flinched in his grip.
My strength let out as he dipped his tongue into me, deliciously searching for the part of my body that was so reactive to his touch.
I fell onto one arm, the other reaching forward and catching in his hair. Moisture clung to the strands, but my fingers dug deep into it, using the hair as a way to hold him in place.
Konstantin snarled against me.
He continued to suck and lick, until the throbbing grew stronger and louder. It threatened to consume my entire body.
When he caught my clit with his teeth, rolling it gently in his mouth, lightning struck through me.
I gasped out for air, but the only noise I was made was his name, loud and pleading.
“Konstantin!”
My back arched as the pleasure tore through me. My hips bucked, my legs flinched, but Konstantin kept me in place as I screamed out.
My arm gave out and I fell to the ground.
My chest rose and fall rapidly as the aftermath of my orgasm trickled out of me. Air constricted my lungs, and heat enveloped my blood.
“Elena,” came Konstantin’s soft voice. He rose, allowing me to see him over the top of my hips. His hands slowly released my thighs but his body in between my legs stopped me from being able to press them together.
He reached out a hand and picked a strand of hair off my sticky forehead. His fingers brushed lightly over my cheeks.
“My Elena, are you okay?”
I nodded, finding the strength in myself to lift myself onto my elbows. The robe had come undone, revealing the bare expanse of my stomach and upper chest. My nipples weren’t visible but the plucked tips could be seen through the fabric.
Sensations began to come back to me quickly. The water tickling my legs, the steam pressing against my skin, naked Konstantin between my legs. Naked Konstantin’s cock pressing into between my legs.
I would’ve thought my body couldn’t take anymore but heat struck through me. Images littered my brain of his cock sliding in between my wet sex, the feeling of him pressing against the hot flesh—
“Lyubimaya,” he growled.
I recalled his earlier question. “I’m fine. Just…” I pressed myself against the rock-hard length of him.
Konstantin growled low in his chest, features warping in hunger.
“Experiments have multiple trials,” I breathed. “Or else they’re not considered valid.”
His teeth flashed as he smiled. “Well, then, we better follow the rules of science to test your hypothesis correctly.”
I leaned up, searching for something. Konstantin brought his head down, his lips so close to mine—
“Boss! There’s a—oh, bloody hell!”
Konstantin wrapped my robe around me in a second, hiding the newcomer from seeing anything. He snapped his head to the side, baring his teeth. “What do you want, Artyom?”
I had never heard Konstantin speak like that before. Voice guttered and carnal.
I refused to be flustered and turned to see Artyom hovering by the door, looking considerably embarrassed. Well, as embarrassed as reasonable and rational Artyom could ever look.
He turned his head to the wall, offering us some semblance of privacy. “I’m sorry, Kostya, but there is a situation.”
“Unless someone is dead, it can
wait,” Konstantin snarled.
“That’s why I’m here…” Artyom muttered. “Edward Ainsworth was found dead in his cell. And all his teeth were removed.”
22
Elena Falcone
“I want to know who did this,” Konstantin said coolly. Despite his tone, I wouldn’t mistake him as anything but furious.
He braced his arms on the desk, eyes scanning everyone in the room. Spread out on the desk were graphic images of Edward Ainsworth’s body. He was shot in his chair, then had his teeth removed. Blood dripped from his mouth in every photo.
The household and Konstantin’s men were scattered around the study, from Babushka to Rifat Denisyuk. No one spoke, some even didn’t dare to breathe.
Edward Ainsworth had been found dead in his cell, mouth bloody and toothless. This was not the time to talk.
“The bratok were knocked out, sir,” Artyom said from his position behind Roksana’s chair. “The security cameras facing Ainsworth’s dungeon went dark. No one was seen coming in or out.”
“It is hard to see people coming in or out if the cameras are not working, Artyom,” Konstantin responded.
“It was obviously this Titus,” Feodor said from the far side of the room, leaning against the desk.
Konstantin turned his head, pinning his gaze on Feodor. He moved the same way a snake did as it picked out its prey. It was eerie and chilling.
Feodor fell silent for a second, pinned beneath his Pakhan’s gaze, before finding his voice. “We need to find out who he is. Some low-level drug lord or one of our neighbors. He has attacked our women and killed one of our prisoners. He needs to be destroyed.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Konstantin asked softly.
“We spy on every boss, threaten every soldier. All the families who have been attacked will stand with us.”
“So, because we have no suspect, we accuse everybody?” he inquired.
“We would be out of allies before the day is through,” Artyom said.
Beside me, Danika rested her head on my shoulder. Both of us were sitting on the ground, leaning against a bookshelf. After days of interrogating Ainsworth, all her hard work had been destroyed in one afternoon.
I shifted my arm so she could get more comfortable.
Roman rocked on his heels, standing behind one of the chairs, too agitated to sit down. He paced and swore, looking like he was seconds until he burst from his skin. I understood the feeling. “He’s fucking taunting us. He is showing us just how vulnerable we are, just how much he knows about us.”
“That is not true,” Dmitri said sharply. He sat very still in the second chair, Tatiana on his lap. “The attack on Roksana and Elena followed the same precedent as the other killings before them. The death of Ainsworth was because he was one of Titus’s men and telling us information.”
Roksana lifted her head, eyes darting to Konstantin. She was curled up on a chair with Babushka asleep in her arms. “The child—Marzia?”
“Giovanni has been warned,” Konstantin said. “I imagine the security around her could rival the Queen of Chicago’s.”
Sophia Rocchetti, the Queen of Chicago and my childhood friend, hadn’t been seen in public since the beginning of the serial killings. Not even to give interviews or cut ribbons; the Chicago public missed her greatly, but I knew her husband wouldn’t take the risk.
“Keeping the women under lock and key is a temporary solution,” Artyom said. “The only option is to kill Titus.”
Artyom was right. It would be impossible to keep every woman associated with the mafia locked away or followed by a handful of bodyguards at all times. It wasn’t a viable option.
But who was Titus? How could he be killed?
Nobody had any idea who he was, nobody knew his motives or history.
His motives...
I gently nudged Danika, “Dani?” I whispered.
She turned her head up to me, blinking sleepily. “Mm?”
“When you interrogate someone, how do you do it?”
Danika’s dark eyes cleared at the question. “How do I do it?” She let out a little yawn. “Well, I suppose...I make a profile of them. Do they need a mothering figure or a friend? Someone to fear or rely on? Once you know what they need, it’s pretty easy.”
“What do you think of Titus?” My tone was loud enough that everyone in the room turned to us.
Danika leaned against the bookcase, face tight in thought. “There is no arrogance in the killings. This Titus doesn’t claim them—or make himself known. We only found out his name because of one of his followers. But the act of removing teeth post-mortem...it’s painless to the victim, but vulgar to the bystanders.”
Roman stopped pacing. “So we’re looking for a non-arrogant psychopath. That should be easy.”
Konstantin rose to his full height. “His ability to remain anonymous is impressive,” he said. “But no one moves through this world unseen. Not in this day and age.”
“He must be living somewhere, interacting with someone. He’s not a ghost,” Roksana agreed. “If we find those who follow him, perhaps we might have a better chance of drawing him to us.”
“How would we do that?” Roman asked. “We’d need to know every fucking mobster in the States.”
An image flashed through my mind. The piles of boxes, the dozens of USBs. All the secrets and knowledge in one room, gained via decades of watching and spying.
As the picture formed, so did the pain. My upper arm ached painfully, a strange contrast to the pleasurable aching I had experienced earlier in the day.
The sex…I could feel the pressure of Konstantin’s lips against my bundle of nerves, still feel the pleasant aftermath of the orgasm. I didn’t know what to make of it. It had been good, it had been a taste of what was to come, but the strange connection forming between us felt tender.
You’re leaving soon, Elena, I told myself, but I didn’t sound as determined as I had been previously.
Konstantin’s jaw tightened in response to what Roman had said. “My niece mentioned something similar happening back in Russia,” he said. “A woman was killed and had her teeth removed.”
“Any connection?” Tatiana asked. She raised her gaze up to Dmitri, like she couldn’t stand having Konstantin’s commanding attention on her.
“I’m not sure yet,” he replied. “But the coincidence is too great to ignore.” Konstantin cast his eyes out the window, seeing something we could not. “He also made his plans for New York clear. Watch him.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Serial killers, rival mob bosses,” Roman bitched under his breath. “It never fucking ends.”
“You would grow bored, Roman,” Artyom said.
That made a grin flash over his face. “Ah, you’re probably right. If I didn’t have to worry about Konstantin, then what would I do?”
“Steal syrup,” Danika muttered.
“Really?” He spun on his heel. “You’re still not over—”
“Enough.” The word cut through the room, Konstantin’s commanding voice refusing to be denied. Silence fell. “Ainsworth must have met Titus somewhere. I want to know every place he has been, every room he has ever walked into. Titus may be invisible, but his men are not.”
Artyom nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Tell Olezka he is going back into the business of tracking,” he said. “Give him everything we had on Ainsworth. Including his body.”
“Yes, sir.”
Still not resolved but now with a purpose in mind, the tension of the room had shifted considerably. The fear of Titus hovered above us all, shadowing our every move. And now we had lost our only connection to the man—leaving us back at square one.
Danika’s profile of Titus had left me with only one guarantee: Titus was not a mob boss.
Arrogance fueled the kings of the mafia; it came with the territory. Therefore, Titus was not one of them.
He was something else entirely. Maybe a disillusioned soldier or fu
rious heir. Maybe even a scarred wife. But whoever Titus was, he was bloodthirsty and intelligent, cruel and calculating. The lives of children and honoring dead bodies meant nothing to him.
Titus was dangerous. Not only did he pose a threat to me, but to all the other women associated with the mafia. The loose sense of sisterhood I had felt with Eithne McDermott was replicated with all the other women in the same world as me. Sophia, Beatrice, Danika, Roksana...even little Marzia Vigliano.
I reached up to feel my arm. There was no real pain, it was all in my head, but it served as a reminder of what my brain had discovered.
After discussing a few more things, the meeting came to an end. Roksana turned to me as people began to file out, smiling elegantly. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for giving me that tonic. I feel so much better.”
“I’m glad.”
Roksana had been having horrendous nightmares, the attack triggering her violent past. I had made her some sleeping medication, which had apparently worked.
It had worked. Not apparently.
It had.
My heels slowed down, listening to my subconscious before I did. At her questioning look, I waved her ahead. “I’m going to speak to Konstantin.”
Understanding sparked in her eyes but she disappeared, followed by her husband and the rest of the household. The door clipped shut softly.
I turned to face Konstantin. He hadn’t moved from his position, watching me with blazing eyes. Still and intense, waiting and ready.
I swallowed, trying to control the reaction my body had whenever Konstantin looked at me like that. Hell, whenever he looked at me at all.
“Elena.” His voice was low and dangerous, but curious. “Do you need something?”
I moved towards the desk, his eyes never straying from me. “I need to tell you something.” I was close enough to him that he could reach out and touch me.
“What is it?” Concern darkened his features.
With movements that did not match his expression, Konstantin reached out and gently held my hips. The touch sent heat flushing through me.
“I...” I caught the sound of voices in the hallway. Danika’s bright tone was the loudest, followed by Roman’s rough snarl.