Ruthless King: A Dark Mafia Omegaverse Fated-Mates Romance (Ruthless Warlords Book 1)

by Alison Aimes

  “Alpha, please. Not here. Not with the others—”

  No? He roared in fury. Omegas did not refuse their Alphas.

  He would not be denied. Not while the stink of the Lundin family and the betas still clung to her. Instinct demanded he rub against her. Mark her. Scent her. Claim her and erase all others. He had waited so fucking long.

  He growled once more.

  “Oh, gods.” Her voice was a defeated whisper. “That sound.”

  Their bodies vibrated as one, like the perfect pitch of a tuning fork, hers trembling in need as her head fell back and she bared her neck, her hand fisting in his furs, pulling him closer. “Please.”

  This time she begged him to continue.

  His omega.

  He’d known it from the start.

  His enemy, his pawn, but his nonetheless.

  “Alpha Lord Skolov, we did not realize the omega was your fated mate.” Prendel’s disembodied voice crackled through the space like a kick to the balls, piercing Nikolai’s rut state. “Had we known, we would have taken additional precautions since only a fated-mate connection can produce this level of strength and loss of control in an Alpha.”

  Prendel’s disapproval was obvious.

  “As a result of these developments,” continued the Inner Council head, “damages from this incident will be taken from your shared account and given to the Brotherhood to enact repairs.” He paused once more. “The assessment is complete. Alpha Olan Lundin’s debt is paid in full. The meeting will adjourn in five. In the meantime, Alpha Skolov, I suggest you remove the omega currently in heat from the room before the other Alphas lose control altogether.”

  The sound of a slamming gavel came next.

  Hells. Nikolai would have liked to use it on his own head.

  He’d never intended the knowledge that the omega was his fated mate to be a secret, but he hadn’t meant to lose his shit quite so publicly.

  Chin snapping up, he met Olan’s smug smirk through the male’s still intact glass pod.

  You’ve dug your own grave now. It was easy to read the older male’s lips, even with them pulled back in a feral grin. Good-bye to those balls, Skolov. Olan’s lips moved once more, his stare dropping to Nikolai’s wrists. Enjoy being an Alpha bitch.

  Among Alphas, the fated-mate bond was perceived as a trap to be avoided at all costs. Yes, it was recognized as the ultimate genetic marker of breeding compatibility and known to produce greater strength in an Alpha, but it also eroded the Alpha’s already tenuous control.

  There were stories of insanity and mindless ruts that lasted forever. Stories too of a force stronger than the Alpha instinct to dominate and spread his seed that shifted the dynamic between Alpha and omega.

  Plus, once the fated bond was cemented by time spent together, it grew permanent. Unlike a prime omega contract, which lasted only through an omega’s childbearing years or a property interaction that could be severed by the Alpha at any time, the fated bond could not be undone. Once the bands around the wrist thickened and darkened to their full capacity, it became impossible for an Alpha to knot or impregnate another omega. Hence, the Alpha bitch moniker.

  It was a lifetime sentence that went against the current Alpha philosophy. Why fuck one omega when you could rut with hundreds? Better to use their bodies and, if possible, their gifts and then move on to fresher meat when the older omegas were used up.

  But there was so much about the fated bond the Brotherhood didn’t know.

  Fact was, neither did Nikolai.

  But he was still going to take the risk.

  Because, unlike so many of these old-timer Alphas, Nikolai didn’t rest on his laurels. He couldn’t afford to. Instead, he gathered information: details, facts, figures, whispers about who was blackmailing who and fucking someone else.

  Information was the foundation of how he’d built his business from nothing to become the youngest and newest member of the Brotherhood. Richer and more powerful than most of the other crime bosses.

  He was no one’s Alpha bitch. He was the fucking Ruthless King.

  And, like everything else in his path, he intended to bring the fated-mate bond to heel and make it work for him.

  Like the omega herself.

  “I accept the damages and debt payment.” Nikolai responded to Prendel’s terms. Then, giving her no warning, he bent his knees and tossed his omega over his shoulder.

  Her gasp, coupled with the sweet smell of her cunt so close to his nose, almost sent him into another mindless rut.

  He fought it with everything he had. From here on out, he’d have to do better.

  Be harder. More on guard.

  The fated-mate bond was something to be used to strengthen his standing, not weaken it.

  He’d stained his palms red and scarred his soul ashy black to get to this point.

  There was no turning back now. Revenge and redemption had to be paramount, superseding all else, even his urge to fuck and knot his newest property.

  With a final glare in Olan’s direction, Nikolai stalked from the room.

  The reckoning with the past had begun.

  5

  Fifteen years earlier

  “Make this trim shine, worm, or you’ll be sorry.”

  Thirteen-year-old Nikolai Skolov heaved his bucket and dirty rag to the hood of the gleaming hovercraft as the speaker emerged.

  First out, a massive black boot topped with silver spikes that crunched the top step of the stairway leading to the icy ground, the metal almost bending under the wearer’s weight.

  Next, the scent of expensive asteroid cologne, testosterone, and arrogance blew outward from the compartment, followed by a huge body swaddled in a fur coat and hat.

  Olan Lundin. The boss of all bosses in their outer sector wasteland.

  Nikolai despised him with the passion of a hundred glowing suns.

  “When you’re done, make the seats inside shine bright, or you’ll be held down, ass-fucked, knotted, and given a whipping you won’t forget.”

  “Careful.” Olan’s second, Selig, bobbed down the steps right behind, as blond and shiny as all the Lundins. “He might just like it. Like his omega whore of a mother.”

  The two Alpha males chuckled.

  Nikolai barely blinked. The thick bands that circled his skin and shifted color with his mood remained black. He was used to the insults. These rotations, while Nikolai and his siblings slept in a broken sewage drain near the outpost borders, their old stomping grounds had been infested with Lundin scum. Worse, the planet and main house weren’t the only things Olan had claimed when he’d taken charge: Nikolai’s mother was now Lundin’s property as well.

  The Alpha mafia boss had arrived six months ago at the frontier outpost on the ice planet Abzal, dripping in the kind of wealth and advanced weaponry the provincial inhabitants had never before seen. He’d ousted the small-time crime ring that had previously been terrorizing the planet—a crew run by Nikolai’s father—and immediately made it clear he wasn’t to be fucked with.

  What Olan wanted, he got.

  The inhabitants of the outpost fell in line and paid him protection money, or they died.

  But Nikolai had other plans.

  As several more of Olan’s Alpha soldiers emerged from the shuttle and pulled travel bags full of money from the rear storage compartment, Nikolai tightened his grip on his rag and used the blade hidden within to scrape a small chunk of gold trim from the side of the shuttle. He dropped it into the dirty ice slush in his bucket.

  Better to get even than mad.

  Plus, feeding six other mouths wasn’t easy.

  “I hate this fucking cold.” Olan stomped his feet as his men formed a chain leading to the main house, tossing the bags off to one another as the winds whipped at their beards and sent their long white hair flying. “Fucking Brotherhood. Giving me shit territory like this to control while other heads get to strut around in two sun sectors.”

  Too bad this is our summer, asshole. Unlik
e Lundins, Nikolai’s people had red-tinged, thicker hides that meant they didn’t need layers of fancy furs to stay warm. It also made them easier to rescue during the blizzard season and harder to burn in the constant light reflecting off the ice covering ninety percent of the planet.

  “At least this shithole is off the radar of the Federation police,” cajoled Selig. “And defenseless.” He patted a valise full of cash before tossing it on. “These backwater outer planets are ripe for the plucking and always ready to pay for protection. The Brotherhood will be pleased.”

  Olan’s frown lightened. “Tonight, we celebrate! Holes for all!”

  Olan’s men cheered. Lust, aggression, and the promise of violence choked the air.

  “Prepare the property omegas. Especially Naytalia. I want my cock sucked now!”

  Nikolai was suddenly very glad he’d sent his younger brothers and sister, minus the ten-month-old twins, to the ice slush sector to poke through the trash for anything useful.

  Of course, he wished he’d insisted they all go, but Maxheim and Alexi had been whining that it was next to impossible to handle Zaya and Mikhail now that they were starting to crawl, and Nikolai had figured the twins needed to nap, anyway. He’d reasoned Naytalia’s room was a hell of a lot safer than the infested polar rat sewers where Zaya and Mikhail usually bedded down.

  Now, he wondered if he’d guessed wrong.

  Because when Olan and his men got riled up like they were now, they didn’t care who or what they shoved their fists or dicks into. Any weaker or younger non-Brotherhood Alpha was up for grabs, as were the usual fodder of betas and omegas.

  That’s the way it always was.

  The strong preyed on the weak.

  Luckily, he’d been born an Alpha. He just had to survive to adulthood to reap the benefits.

  “M-My Lord Alpha Lundin.” The nervous sound carried above the roar of laugher and chest-pounding as a brave beta hurried toward Olan. The beta’s gray robe dragged through the ice and slush as he bowed low. Unlike omegas who were dressed to entice and please their Alphas, betas were expected to be covered and hooded to lessen their distraction and improve their ability to serve. “I-I apologize, but your property Naytalia is not currently in the omega waiting room with the others.”

  Utter silence.

  It was never good to deny Olan what he wanted.

  Nikolai’s old home was divided into two sections. The front section was for public, official gatherings and operated more like a town hall than a home. The back was connected to the front by a long corridor and held the private quarters. The servants crowded into several rooms to sleep. The same went for most of the omegas. However, since Naytalia was a favorite, Lundin had given her a private sleeping room. Still, he expected her to await him in the omega stable like the rest.

  “Where the fuck is she?” Olan’s snarl broke the tense hush.

  The beta paled and took a small step back. “I-I am not sure, my Alpha Lord.”

  The air crackled with menace.

  Nikolai stifled a curse.

  He suspected everyone present had a damn good idea who Naytalia was with, even if they didn’t know where she was.

  His mother was most likely being fucked by the Kuril crime boss, who’d been a guest of Olan’s these past few rotations and who appeared to like using her as much as his host did.

  Which probably wouldn’t have been a problem—since omega property were expected to service all sanctioned guests—but Naytalia seemed to have developed a fondness for the Kuril warlord. She hadn’t been seeing to any other Alpha’s needs lately, especially Olan Lundin’s.

  Worse, it was rumored that her gift, the ability to hear others’ thoughts, had resurfaced after years of dormancy, and it had happened not at Olan’s command, or even in his presence, but while the Kuril crime boss had been slamming away inside her.

  Short-fused and territorial, Olan had no problem sharing his indentured omegas’ bodies with other Alphas, but the use of their gifts was meant for him alone.

  “Where is she?” As if Nikolai had drawn the fucker’s attention with his thoughts, the Lundin top Alpha stalked in his direction. “Tell me where that worthless omega property whore of mine is, or you and the rest of her offspring will suffer unimaginable agony before I allow you to die.”

  Rage coated everything red.

  Nikolai’s gums throbbed as his Alpha instincts took hold, his fangs clawing for release.

  One thing you didn’t fuck with was his family. He didn’t include his father in that circle because he’d been more sperm donor than paternal figure. He was also on the fence about including his mother in that category. Even before Olan’s arrival, she seemed to think she’d done her part simply by bringing each of them into the world.

  Still, he’d always be grateful to her for that.

  The six other Skolov souls she’d brought into the universe were the only things that were truly his. The only things that looked at him as if he mattered.

  He was their Alpha, and he intended to guard them to his dying breath.

  He sized up the ramped-up, bitter crime boss heading his way.

  In truth, his chances were grim, his body one third the size of a full-grown Alpha. Olan would rip him to pieces the instant Nikolai challenged him for dominance.

  Still, there was nothing he wouldn’t risk for his family.

  He should have known Olan wouldn’t play fair.

  “Seize the worm,” he told his men. “Bring him inside and hold him down. It’s too cold for my dick out here and I want to make him suffer for every heartbeat that bitch is not found.”

  Nikolai shot out with his fist. The first soldier to reach him staggered back. He wasn’t so lucky after that. Fists pounded his stomach, ribs, and jaw. Bones cracked as his attackers slammed him to the ground.

  His chin bounced along the steps as he was dragged up the outpost steps and tossed inside the entrance hall crowded with bags of money and little else.

  He struggled to stand, digging his horn into the first fucker stupid enough to come at him again. But there were too many.

  They were on him again before he knew it.

  “Get those fucking rags off him. I want to hear him squeal.”

  “Alpha Lord, the omega property has been found.” The beta’s nervous announcement cut through the snarls and roars. “She is with the Kuril crime boss in the private residential quarters.” There was a long pause as if he was bracing himself. “They are with your bride, the prime omega.”

  “With my prime omega?” The windows rattled with the force of Olan’s roar. “What the hells is Kuril doing with them both? If he thinks to take what’s mine, he’ll regret it.”

  His rage redirected, Olan stormed down the corridor.

  His crew scurried after him.

  Shit. Naytalia was in for it now.

  Free, Nikolai pushed to standing—or tried. His broken arm gave out, and he slumped back down, his chin knocking the floor. With a snarl, he forced himself up, grinning as blood dripped into his eye. Take that, you fucking Lundin Alpha pussy. Nothing keeps a Skolov down.

  He needed to get to the twins, but he needed to be smart. The whole Lundin crew was currently mobbing the private quarters. It hadn’t escaped Nikolai’s attention that the beta had been deliberately vague about exactly where in the private quarters Naytalia had been located. Nikolai would just have to hope that wherever Naytalia was entertaining the Kuril head and the Lundin prime omega, it wasn’t in her own room where the twins were sleeping. She wouldn’t be so reckless. Crying babies were a cockblocker and Naytalia wouldn’t want to risk displeasing the Kuril head, right?

  His nerves grew. He really never knew with Naytalia.

  His gaze lit on an ugly gold sconce on the wall that hadn’t been there during his father’s reign. Adding expensive shit to the place only made the ugliness of it stand out more and, constructed of the same cheap, brittle imported timber as the rest of the outpost, Nikolai’s old home had never been much to
look at in the first place.

  Fighting a grimace, he rolled his shoulders and worked through the soreness in his arm, his bones already snapping back into place thanks to his Alpha regenerative abilities.

  Time to sneak into Naytalia’s room from the side window, get the twins, and get out. For good. After this incident, coming back wouldn’t be smart.

  He wished he could have done more for Naytalia, but she was the one who insisted on staying with Olan. She’d made her choice long ago.

  On his way out, he grabbed the ugly gold piece and ripped it from the wall.

  “Are you okay?”

  The lyrical sound had him spinning around.

  Standing in the entranceway was a vision straight out of the old-timers’ tales about dazzling ice-fairies who bewitched a male and made him lose his way in a snowstorm.

  Except this ice-fairy was real.

  She had wide blue eyes, full pink lips, pointed ears, porcelain skin, and white-gold blond hair that shimmered like snow crystals as it fell in waves to her waist. Ethereal and elegant, she was swathed in fine metallic silk from her shoulders to the tips of her white, laced boots.

  A perfect, delicate, untouched omega girl.

  Though she had the look of a Lundin, he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

  Shame slammed through him. He’d never been more aware of the dirt and blood on his face and the torn rags on his body.

  Something else burned inside him too, though . . . something he had yet to feel until this very moment. The brutal surge of the rut, a flood of heat that slammed through his veins, ripping his fangs from his gums while his cock went hard and the glands at the back of his mouth dripped. Hells, even he could scent the sudden burst of testosterone saturating the air.

  “Come here.”

  The girl swayed in place, her eyes going wide, and then, as if he’d yanked an invisible string, she scurried forward until she was standing in front of him, so tiny the top of her head only reached his chest.

  Slender neck bowed, her pulse fluttered wildly as her gaze fused to the ground. Like any good omega, his dominance had triggered her biological responses.