by Tillie Cole
“What?” I snapped and grabbed Viktor’s shirt.
“Where did you come from?” he asked, a nervy edge to his voice.
“Far away,” I said, remembering the place the guard had told me the Gulag was based.
Beads of sweat ran down Viktor’s head and he lowered his eyes. My lip curled at this pathetic weak man who I’d been saddled with, and I got to my feet. In minutes, I was in front of the mirror, power pressing, as Viktor cracked open a bottle of vodka behind me, slumped into a chair, and drank himself to sleep. With every press of the two hundred fifty pound weight, I heard Kisa crying as Durov fucked her, saw Durov smirk as he ploughed into her, licking his palm for me to see.
Hours later, when everyone had left the gym and the lights were turned off, I crept from where I had hidden in the bathroom and hunkered down on a training mat in my private training room. This gym would now be my home, until Durov was dead.
As I shut my eyes, Kisa’s face came into view, and a young boy’s voice started to echo through my mind…
You have to keep away from Alik, Kisa. He’s obsessed with you and he’s dangerous…
My eyes snapped open and a fractured image fixed itself in place.
Kisa? The boy in the memory had said Kisa.
Chapter Eleven
Kisa
The Dungeon was full. Men, thirsty to gamble for high stakes, leaked into the tunnel leading to the dank underground warehouse on the docks of Brooklyn. This place was well hidden from the public, normal everyday people who like to think that nothing sinister was happening under their noses. People who believed organized fights to the death were fiction, fantasy played out on TV. They were happy in their ignorance of my reality.
But the people here, now, they were criminals, the dregs of society. I came here every day of every week, but the next three nights were what The Dungeon was about—the prime fighters, the men who put on a show and died. They gave their all, they spilled blood, and they drew their very last breath in this place.
The Dungeon was what we Bratva were best known for. This was the biggest gambling ring on the East Coast.
As the Byki lined the outskirts of the basement, keeping control, the cage was center stage. I stayed in the back rooms, hearing the thudding of feet on the ancient stone floor. The excitement for spilled blood, for death, charged the air.
The Red kings, my father and Ivan, were in their private booth at the back, hidden from view but able to oversee their enterprise and watch their money rolling in. Abram would be with Alik. He always hovered close, pushing him, goading him, then watched his puppet from beside the cage.
There were eight fights tonight, the latter ones involving Raze, then Alik. They were both fighting strong, headline fighters. I fully expected both of them to win, but here in The Dungeon, nothing was a safe bet. Alik was experienced and full of confidence, and Raze? Well, Raze was a complete unknown, but the place was buzzing with the anticipation of seeing him fight. Papa had told Ivan of his skill in the cage, and Ivan had built up the hype.
Raze had trained all week, my father becoming a fixture at the gym to watch him. He was fast becoming Papa’s favorite. That fact only served to made Alik even more furious, more unstable, more possessive, and Abram wasn’t happy about his son’s newly arrived competition either.
And me? I had become completely obsessed with Raze. I watched him train through the blinds of my office window when Alik wasn’t in the gym to catch me. My body set on fire simply at the sight of his bare torso bending and flexing as he lifted weights or sparred in the cage or ran on the treadmill. My heart pounded and I often became lightheaded, such was the draw I had toward this man.
My every thought was overcome by him. Raze was always the first one in the gym and the very last to leave at night. It was as if he didn’t even leave. He had one focus: becoming the best fighter we had. And making things worse still, he stared at me when no one was looking. The men talked about Raze. About how he never looked anyone in the eye. About how fiercely he trained. But when I passed by, when I had to speak to the coaches, he watched me with those brown-smudged-blue eyes, tracking my every move, like he only saw me. His muscles tensed solid when I was near. His nostrils would flare as he inhaled my scent. But he never spoke. Never communicated. Just watched…
Always watched me, prompting goose bumps to spread like wildfire on my skin, evoking familiar nervous/excited stirrings in my stomach that I hadn’t felt since I was in my early teens.
“Five minutes,” I abruptly called as I rapped on the first fighter’s door. The coach yelled back that he heard me, and I walked down the hallway toward Alik’s room. He needed me there before every fight. Said if he didn’t have me close, he would lose his mind, couldn’t focus and couldn’t win. Said he needed to know where I was so he could keep me safe. Truth was, he couldn’t stand seeing me around other men and the Dungeon was full of them. It was just easier to give in and do as he said rather than have him stressed, which might affect his upcoming fight.
He needed me. It was that simple.
As I neared Alik’s door, a flash of movement caught my eye. I spotted Viktor leaving Raze’s room up ahead, and I ground to a sudden halt. Raze would be in there, alone. It was his first fight, and I wanted him to be okay. A heart-wrenching twist of my gut almost brought me to my knees when I thought of him losing tonight. A pain so severe it left me breathless.
Why was I so attracted to him? I didn’t know him. Nothing about him made any sense to me. He was wild and untamed, severe and animalistic. I knew he wasn’t Luka, couldn’t be my Luka, but a feeling deep inside told me to keep pushing to find out.
Of course it was irrational. Of course it was stupid. Of course it was impossible. But when your heart’s so deeply involved, logic flies straight out the window.
I glanced at my watch and noted I was early; Alik wouldn’t be expecting me for five more minutes.
Five minutes.
I could have five minutes with Raze.
Making sure he was prepared for tonight. At least this was the lie I told myself to excuse my erratic and dangerous behavior.
I hadn’t seen Raze yet today and my chest ached because of it. Viktor brought him here to the gym. Alik had me jailed in his bedroom all day, fucking me over and over and over. One time he fucked me so hard my thighs were bruised and my throat was sore from crying.
Alik made me bleed. He rammed into me so hard that he made me bleed…
“You want to fuck him, Kisa? You think he’s better than me, just like your papa does? You want to fuck that cunt Raze?” Alik had asked, pushing inside me so roughly that tears of pain splashed down my cheeks.
“No,” I’d cried. “Baby, no. You’re seeing things. Imaging things that aren’t true.”
Alik’s mouth dropped to my ear and his fingers dug into my cheeks, forcing me to meet his rage-filled eyes.
“He watches you, did you know that? Doesn’t meet anyone else’s eyes like the fucking coward he is, but he watches you. Do you watch him too? Do you think you can fuck him and leave me?” he roared. He bit into my shoulder as I shook my head, trying to say no.
Alik thrust inside me in a frenzy, and I let more silent tears fall.
“You won’t ever be free of me, Kisa. I own you. Every inch of you! You’re with me until the end.”
Shuddering at the memory, still feeling the soreness between my legs, I acted on instinct and followed my heart instead of my head. I marched forward to Raze’s door. A nervous hand reached out to grip the doorknob, and sneaking one more glance at the empty hallway, I opened the door and bolted inside, shutting the door as I did so.
Closing my eyes, back pressed against the wood, I exhaled in relief that Alik hadn’t caught me. Then I sensed a dark, dominant presence…
Raze.
My eyelids fluttered open to find myself faced with that now familiar broad, tattooed scarred chest and torso of ragged tattooed tallies. A musky smell assaulted my nostrils, prompting my pussy to contrac
t in need.
I followed the tanned, scarred skin north, over thick pecs, impossibly high traps, up over a square jaw, and up to a pair of burning brown eyes.
He was wired for the fight.
Pumped with adrenaline.
“Raze…” I whispered, but my words stuck in my throat as he leaned in close, his nose almost touching the delicate skin between my shoulder and neck. Raze raised his arms above my head. Then he inhaled, long and slow. My eyes shuddered closed and my palms met with Raze’s hot skin, my fingers drawing lazy circles around his nipples, feeling a hot bolt zing all the way down to the apex of my thighs.
He was smelling me, a deep rumbling growling in his chest as he inhaled my floral perfume. The attention he was giving me was almost primitive… Neolithic. It was like Raze had been stripped bare of any manners, ripped from the Stone Age and stripped of any boundaries.
And I’d never been so captivated, so mesmerized by anyone in all my life.
Raze’s warm nose moved to the side, his warm breath ghosting over my face. The tip of his nose traced the shell of my ear before his full lips dragged over my lobe. Shivers of pleasure ran down my spine and into every cell in my body.
I had never felt this before. Never felt this overwhelming lust, this consuming level of instant attraction… this raw and insatiable need to be with a man. It was dangerous. It was haunting. It was forbidden. And although it was wrong, it felt so perfectly right.
Fanning my loose, long brown hair with his sharp exhale, Raze rasped, “You don’t belong in here. Why are you here?”
Like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over my head, I pulled back so quickly that the back of my skull hit the wooden door. Raze pulled back, but only an inch, refusing to give me any room to breathe. He loitered in my personal space, unnerving me beyond belief.
His dark gaze was cold, only made more severe by the Eye Black smeared below his eyes, though there was fire in his pupils as he stared me down. He wasn’t unaffected by me. Maybe… just maybe he felt this powerful strange connection to me too.
“I… I came to see if you were ready for your first fight,” I said nervously.
A small twitch of his cheek and the slight narrowing of his eyes told me my question was unwelcome.
“Always. I’m always ready. Always ready to kill.”
I summoned the courage to stare into his eyes. I knew it was impossible, but those eyes were so, so familiar, like I’d known them all my life. My mind became filled with confusion, with hope, with doubt, with the overpowering necessity to learn more about this man.
“Tell me your real name?” I blurted out.
Raze’s face instantly blanked, all feeling seeping from his features. He stepped back, and I immediately felt his loss, felt cold without the burning heat from his body.
Moving from the door, I asked, “Raze, please. It’s been haunting me. It’s stupid… but I need to know your name. You remind me… I just feel like I know you—”
Raze’s head snapped up and he said, “Eight one eight.”
My attention dropped to the large tattoo on his chest. Confused, I traced the numbers with my eyes… 818.
“Eight one eight?” I questioned under my breath, but Raze clearly heard my subtle whisper and strode toward me.
Gripping my hands, he selected my forefinger. My blue eyes fixed on his brown eyes, and he began to outline his large 818 tattoo with our joined hands. I lost my breath, heart beating like a drum, as if it were trying to break free and meld with his.
The air around us was electric, all my synapses firing like bullets. The ambient noise from the first fight slipped into silence as my flesh met his. Raze’s gaze became glassy, like he’d drifted off to another world. Then he leaned in and his nose was back in my hair, inhaling my scent, his stubbled cheek scratching my throat.
Hands still on his chest, my breasts heaved in need. “Raze…” I murmured, feeling on fire with lust, going out of my mind due to my ever-wayward hormones. I didn’t understand this pull. I didn’t understand why my wanting Raze was so strong, so very strong. So strong I could barely resist him.
Raze inhaled deeply and said, “All I can think of when I take in your scent is sand… and sun… and sea…” He shook his head and his face twisted up in disbelief, a momentary hint of vulnerability in his expression. “But I’ve never seen a beach, never felt sand beneath my feet or smelled the sea…” His eyebrows pulled down.
Every fiber of my body froze. All the air escaped my lungs. A suffocating tension built in my chest as I watched Raze’s face run rapidly through a gamut of emotions. I stood stock-still.
Was that hope or disbelief settling in my heart?
Impossible.
Impossible.
Impossible, I tried to tell myself, but…
Sand and sun and sea… Luka, me… Brighton Beach… God! The beach, the beach, the salty air, the scent of sand… It always reminded me of Luka. He always told me it reminded him of me… of our cove, of our first kiss…
My knees began to shake and I stumbled back, only to reach up and grip Raze’s cheeks, his huge body turning to stone as I looked into those familiar hypnotic chocolate eyes.
“What? Why? Why did you say that? To me?”
Raze’s eyes narrowed and he jerked back his head, my hands slipping from his face like leaves drifting from the trees in the fall. That same cold demeanor once again commandeered his face, the chill he always wore, any trace of vulnerability snubbed out. Raze began to pace the holding room floor like a wild animal locked in a cage, like a wild cat in captivity. His frame seemed to occupy the entire space of the room and I could feel his confusion, his agitation crackling the air around us.
His eyes repeatedly squeezed shut and his head twitched like he was fighting something in his head. His neck muscles corded with the strain, or was it pain?
Lord! He looked like he was in pain.
“I’m not here for you, for memories I don’t want. I’m here for revenge!” he growled, his softer side gone, the frightening icy killer back in place. “I’m 818 and I’m here for my revenge. On the man who lied. On the man who made me into this.”
The heels of his hands pushed into his eyes and he shook his head. His hands dropped only to make fists at his sides. Then he blasted out a frustrated bellow.
My head was spinning.
Why did he think of the beach? Why were his eyes exactly the same as his? Why did he smell sand, sun and sea when he was around me?
Without thinking it through, I leapt forward and held Raze’s rough face in my hands. I searched his sharp features for any sign of recognition, but under the thick dark stubble of his cheeks and his scarred and weathered face, I could find none.
“How old are you?” I asked, holding my breath.
Raze stilled, eyebrows furrowed, like his mind was shrouded in a thick fog. “I… I don’t know.” My heart cried out at the lost look on his face. His gaze looked panicked, even afraid?
He reminded me of a little boy in that brief moment. Right then, my heart cracked, and I wanted to give him comfort. Me, a woman, wanting to give comfort to this hulking brute of a killer. But what if he was Luka? What if the impossible became possible? Luka’s body was never returned to his family, to be identified, to be buried …
My heart started to race faster as all kinds of possibilities circled around in my head. And when Raze’s head tilted to the side in confusion and he pursed his full lips, my frantic heart nearly exploded…
“Luka, leave me alone!” I said, folding my arms across my chest, and Luka laughed behind me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders from behind.
“Don’t be like that, Kisa. Me and Rodion were just joking around.”
“You and my brother were picking on me! When you two are together, you’re a nightmare!”
Luka spun me around in his arms, his stunning, beautiful eyes concentrating on mine. His smile faded, his head tilted to the side in that adorable way, and his full lips pursed. “Forgive me,
solnyshko?”
I loved it when his head tilted to the side and his full lips pursed. He only ever did it when he was sorry or immensely confused. It made him look so beautiful. My heart melted when he looked at me that way.
Sighing in defeat, I rose on tiptoes and pressed my mouth to his. “I forgive you, Luka. I’ll always forgive you…”
The door flew open, ripping me from my childhood reminiscence. I instantly dropped my hands like Raze’s skin had become a naked flame. Viktor’s shocked gaze met mine as he witnessed our intimate encounter. I immediately leapt back and quickly righted my hair.
“Miss Volkova?” Viktor asked. Rushing past our resident Georgian trainer, I burst into the hallway, just as Alik’s door flew open and my furious fiancé stepped through.
My body stiffened with fear. Alik’s possessive eyes quickly sought mine. I was irrationally worried what he would see in my expression, the realization that Raze could be my Luka. Alik hated Luka. It suddenly occurred to me that he showed no emotion when Rodion or Luka died. I knew it was because he was pleased that he now had me to himself, that Luka no longer stood in the way of getting what he wanted to possess.
Alik’s lips tightened and the bone of his jaw clicked with anger as he walked to where I stood, his heavy hands grabbing my biceps. He pulled me to his damp chest.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he snarled, the hand on my left bicep inevitably moving upward to clutch the back of my neck.
“I… I was working,” I said quickly. To evade his suspicion, I flattened my uneasy palm on his cheek. “But I’m here now, baby,” I soothed as I felt his grip slacken and his deep exhale of relief. “I’m here to help you win this fight.”
Alik pressed his clammy forehead to mine and he forced me into the holding room he always used here at The Dungeon. Once the door was closed, he forced me against the wall, his hands roaming over my body. I noticed bottle after bottle of creatine, steroids, and testosterone pills.