Bratva Dark Allegiance: The Complete Collection

by Raven Scott

  The alarm and nervousness brightening her eyes became even brighter.

  I almost winced at the glow directed right at me. “If it wasn’t difficult, it wouldn’t be worth fighting for. Your life is worth it, right?”

  Nodding slightly, Yelene’s hair slipped down her shoulder.

  I couldn’t stop myself from reaching to push it back. Electricity skittered up my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath as my abdomen tightened.

  She gave me a small smile.

  The pads of my feet dragged across the tiled floor as I shuffled around the edge of the island. Cupping her jaw and neck, blood beat loudly against my ear drums as a vicious need sloshed through my veins.

  She spoke before I could, “I can’t wait to see my parents again. It’s been years. We email, sometimes, to let me know they’re okay. Saint Petersburg is so close, but it’s still so far away.”

  The heat engulfing me burst into flames at Yelene’s wistful mumble, and she turned into my palm.

  Gazing at me under thick eyelashes, her smile widened hopefully. “I want to think I can do it for them.”

  “I sincerely hope you’re sorely underwhelmed by Erik, then—he’s not nearly as impressive as he tries to seem. It was a paltry revelation compared to others.” My mouth dried as I ground my teeth. Wrong as it was, I couldn’t afford to let her know that her parents had departed years ago. After fixing Malda, they’d served their purpose and posed too much of a risk.

  We email, sometimes. How fucked up was it to keep this charade up, even for Aleksander? To string Yelene along for his own personal pleasure, knowing he could ruin her by telling her the truth. The absolute sadistic ass that was my brother needed to be stopped, but the anger that ripped through my chest caught me off guard.

  “Your skin is hot…” Touching my forearm, Yelene stared at me under loosely knit, slender brows. “Are you afraid?”

  I clenched my jaw. “Afraid’ isn’t the word I’d use.” Withdrawing my hand, I rocked back on my heels.

  Yelene gingerly squeezed my arm in comfort.

  “Anxious, definitely. I love Aleksander because he’s my brother, but he’s not a person I like. Knowing he’s going down a road that’ll destroy so many lives makes it easier, but it’ll never be easy, if that makes sense.”

  “I’m sorry you have to face this, Igra.”

  Appreciation for her sympathy cooled my blood some and I leaned against the island to rub my jaw roughly.

  “Do you want to sit and talk about it?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Sure, although I’m not sure what more there is to say?”

  She grabbed my hand, leading me into the smallish drawing room across from the kitchen. There was only a small couch and table across from a stand with a television on it and the walls were lined with books in a few different languages. Clearly, the room was made to be lounged in with one of those reads; all it was missing was a cozy fireplace.

  She spoke again, “You know, my dad always said you’re not obligated to tolerate anyone you don’t want to, especially if they’re family. Being related doesn’t mean anyone has the right to make you uncomfortable, or that it’s acceptable to do so.”

  I looked up at her and was convinced Yelene didn’t sit, or plop, but perched. I sat next to her on the sofa that seemed far too small for both of us.

  She studiously stared at her knees, holding the caps with her hands. “My parents are my only family, so maybe I’m not the best person to talk to about it, but—maybe I am because I’m an only child.”

  I leaned back and stretched my legs in an effort for my hardon to be less noticeable. “Aleksander and I were never close—despite being nine months apart in age.” I propped my arm behind my head to exhale a hot, heavy breath. “My own parents didn’t exactly have a grace period. Those nine months were very important to Aleksander all his life. I am not a pushover by any means, but he always tried to order me around and bully me. As we got older, it got more physical and louder. I wouldn’t say I despise Aleksander exactly, but I definitely don’t think hate is a strong enough word.”

  “But you love him only because he’s your brother?”

  Nodding glumly, I struggled not to frown at the confusion in her tone.

  “That seems like a bad reason to struggle with the fact that he’s trying to kill you.”

  “Keep the peace is not something that applies to Aleksander because he’s the instigator. As I heard in America, as the less aggressive of the two of us, it is best I don’t ‘rock the boat’. I think it’s really supposed to mean I’m responsible for stabilizing the boat after Aleksander has rocked it.”

  Her lips parted in a perfect, small ‘O’ as she looked surprised.

  I shook my head of my own befuddlement. “I don’t know.”

  “W-well—I don’t know a lot about boats, but rocking them over seems to be—not what you’re supposed to do.”

  Chuckling lightly at that, I rolled my head and shoulders in an attempt to ease the tightness in my muscles. I flung my arm over the back of the sofa. Hiding my tightly clenched fist, I flexed my fingers.

  Yelene sat back a little, her face a perfect mask of thoughtfulness. She shrugged lightly before continuing, “I don’t know. I imagine it’s not good for you to be unable to decide for yourself whether or not you hate someone only because you share a mother.”

  “It is, in times like now. I wish I didn’t have to, but Aleksander has made his choice and simultaneously taken mine away. When he decided to kill me, he stopped being my brother in my eyes—that doesn’t mean I can simply ignore the fact that he once was.” My honest thoughts flowed from my mouth like a river, and my lip curled in distaste, “Hopefully, killing him will be easy and the fallout will be less than expected. When he dies, someone else will take the helm of his companies, although I can’t say for sure if that person will be better.”

  “I think, in this age, the Bratva should die as a whole. I think killing Aleksander will be a major step in achieving it.”

  This time, I was the one surprised and my head whipped up as I stared at her.

  Yelene frowned under furrowed brows. “Things can’t continue this way. Not with these ideals and our ability to share information. Eventually, something will crack. It’s come close a few times. Murders and threats, the ability to operate freely, and being protected by your own malice—it’s not enough anymore. Too many people can see you. Too many people know. It’s one thing for Carlyle Santino to operate…he’s a pioneer and he’s understands the importance of legality. Aleksander thinks power and sway alone are enough.”

  “I agree. Although I’m sure crime will never die, large operations are almost impossible, now.” Flopping my head back, I blew out a breath as I thought on that notion. The Bratva—crippled by lack of a leader—Russia was playing catchup to America’s government and eventually, my family would be obsolete. I hunger for that day when my last name doesn’t drag me into terrible situations like this one. Tensing as Yelene sidled up against me, I pursed my lips thinly. My cock twitched when she nuzzled my chest and pressed her hand against my neck. My arm had a mind of its own as I wrapped it around her slender shoulders, and I closed my eyes to savor her warmth.

  If we’d met any other time, would this intimacy, this comfort, be so easily given? Would Yelene forgive me for neglecting to tell her that her parents were dead? If she didn’t, I wouldn’t blame her, but at the very least, they died knowing she’d be protected. Marrying her, even just on paper, was, for lack of a better term, a defensive measure for both of us. But I’m glad I chose her.

  9

  Yelene

  “We can get this marriage annulled, right? Were you lying?” I couldn’t help the question falling from my lips, “It’s been a long time, though.”

  Igra hummed softly in acknowledgment. “You were underage when we signed that paper. That alone is enough. But also, you were coerced and not a willing party. They will annul the marriage if that’s what you want. I assure you, Yelene,
that any judge will take pity on you being under Aleksander Makovich’s thumb.”

  He sounded so sure and Igra’s previous words the day before rang in my ears. As if sensing my thoughts, he inhaled deeply, sharply, and his expression tightened. “I don’t think sex has anything to do with it, but to be frank…I think it would be a bad idea. Things being what they are, the last thing either of us wants is any more stress or expectation. Tomorrow, we’re going to kill my brother and Erik Avernisk and I don’t want to complicate an already complicated situation.”

  “I-I understand. I just worry. It must’ve been difficult for you, too, Igra. Maybe, more than it was for me.” Lifting my right hand, I sighed.

  He glanced down at me, grabbing my hand to rub my ring finger between his thumb and pointer. “I think you would be a good friend.”

  Heat slithered up my arm and a faint, rueful smile stretched my lips before they parted.

  “Good husbands are good friends.” Igra laughed a bit. “Surprisingly, Carlyle Santino told me that. I didn’t think the man was capable of being or having a friend.”

  I chuffed a small laugh and tangled our fingers together to hold his hand in my lap.

  He sighed. “When I went to Aleksander’s wedding, things were tense, and there were no smiles. The ceremony was rigid and everything after was fairly uncomfortable. It was awful.”

  “I think Envre is power hungry and the only reason she adapted to Aleksander was because of it. She’s not very good looking, either.”

  Igra laughed outright at that, nodding in agreement.

  I frowned deeper. “Is she being targeted too?”

  “Yes, and Anatoly. A few others. However, those are the three most problematic people, so they’re at the top of the list.” In my lap, Igra’s hand flexed as he spoke, as if he could already feel the desire to punch his brothers and sister-in-law.

  Untangling our fingers, I pressed his palm flat against my thigh to stroke the thick muscles and tendons.

  Thumbing my shoulder tenderly, he pushed my jaw with the flat of his finger.

  A lump formed in my throat when I looked over.

  Once again, his face was so close, as he grumbled deep in his chest.

  Flames licked up my neck and I stiffened when he ducked his head to brush his lips against mine.

  The magnets that made it impossible to stay away from him intensified a hundred-fold, blocking out his words from only minutes ago.

  His eyes narrowed when he pulled back sharply, turning away from me.

  My lips tingled wildly and blood drummed loudly in my ears.

  He frowned. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking ‒ you’re far more beautiful than Envre, malen’kaya ptitsa ‒ in every way.” His harsh tone cut through the dense atmosphere, and his jaw ticked a few times before he cleared his throat roughly. “As I said, it’s a bad idea considering the circumstances. I, and you, should be clearheaded…at least until tomorrow.”

  Gnawing on my inner cheek, I nodded mutely, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Flickering to the clock on the wall, my eyes widened as the time ticked towards three in the morning. “I should go to sleep. It’s really late.” A sense of déjà vu nibbled at the edges of my mind as I stood. Stretching my arms over my head, I tensed when Igra palmed the small of my back where my shirt rode up. My eyelids fluttered closed briefly and I bit my bottom lip to hold back my groan as his hand slid up my back. Goosebumps blanketed my skin and I knew he noticed.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “—I can’t stop wanting to touch you, Yelene.”

  My skin suddenly felt so hot as flames licked up my back and wrapped around my ribs when the air swirled as Igra leaned closer to me. His smooth chin grazed the swell of my butt, and I clenched my hands into trembling fists when he licked me. My heart raced, my blood boiling in my veins, as he tentatively kissed my tight cheeks through my thin shorts. “Th-then you—you better not die—t- tomorrow.” My voice was high and wispy to my own ears.

  Igra reached around to cup my breasts in both his palms. The weight of his arms around me forced me back a small step, and a gasp lodged in my throat when he squeezed my chest. Desire seared my veins, coiling in my belly as he sucked on my hip lightly. “O-oh—”

  “So soft…” Growling lowly, Igra pushed his face between my ass cheeks.

  My eyes almost boggled out of their sockets in surprise. Despite standing still, I lost my balance as I jolted, and he pulled me into his lap. Kissing and licking my neck, Igra’s chapped lips left scorches in their wake. I buried my hands in his hair. Closing my eyes and craning my neck, the heat became too much as pink fog engulfed my mind. Rolling my hips shamelessly, the bulge in his sweatpants dug into my quivering flesh, threatening to burn me despite the thick fabric between us.

  His hand left my breast to caress down ward.

  I quaked as I spread my legs easily. Igra’s my husband, so this is fine, right? Or is it really? “Don’t!” Frustration roughened my voice as it burst out from my tight chest.

  Igra instantly withdrew his hands. He acted as if he’d been burned.

  The ache between my legs flared at being denied release. Shivering as I stood up again, I didn’t hesitate to rush out of the room like I should’ve the first time.

  “Yelene, wait—”

  No, no, don’t follow me. I bolted for the stairs.

  Igra caught up to me to grab my wrist and whirl me around. He trapped me in his tender embrace, holding me in an iron grip with an arm around my waist and his palm deep in my hair. “It’s okay, malen’kaya ptitsa. Just breathe. I don’t know what spooked you, but I promise you’re safe with me.”

  My heart went wild, and I couldn’t breathe as I blinked back the sting in my eyes. “I don’t even like you! I don’t know you! This is not fine!” Croaking hoarsely, I shook my head viciously in spite of Igra’s hold, and he frowned against my crown. My chest tightened, and I hiccupped. He’s a stranger, not my husband, and that can’t be justification. It’s one thing if he’s a good guy, but—I don’t know if he is. A piece of paper is all that connects us, and it’s not enough.

  My stomach roiled dangerously, and I covered my mouth as I gagged sharply. Acid bubbled up my throat, and I gulped it down. Waves of cold and goosebumps swept up my body, raising the faint hairs on my arms, chest, and back, jerking my shoulders with shivers.

  His grip on my waist eased. “I am sorry, Yelene. I had a moment of weakness, and I should, at the very least, keep my word. I will keep my hands to myself.”

  I felt sick, in my soul, and Igra didn’t protest when I pulled back to flee up the stairs. My whole body thrummed with resistance, as my steps were heavy. Even my knees ached stiffly. I bit my inner cheek hard against the bile that threatened to spurt from my thinned lips.

  Rushing for the bathroom, I threw myself at the toilet to gag furiously, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristled wildly. Arching sharply, saliva and acid spewed out of my mouth and dribbled from my nose. Squeezing my eyes shut, shivers raced down my spine as my muscles gorged on tension.

  I need to get a grip on myself. Memories flashed in my mind’s eye of before I came to Ophelia’s house. I’d been trapped, working in a home Aleksander owned but never used. The stress ate away at me then too, and I slumped against the toilet seat heavily.

  “It’s not even killing Aleksander that’s doing this to me.” No, it’s Igra, and I don’t understand what’s going on. My murmur bounced off the tiles climbing up the walls, and I puffed out a dry, shallow breath.

  10

  Yelene

  “Yelene—wake up.”

  Jerking with a sharp inhale, I tensed as big hands held my shoulders, and Sascha smiled at me apologetically. Concern swirled in his eyes.

  My eyes widened when my brain caught up to my senses. My knees and back popped in protest as I scrambled to my feet and I hissed slightly against the sharp aches.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Y-yeah, I’m just stressed out. I don’t handl
e it well.” My voice wavered.

  Sascha cast me an encouraging smile as he held my forearms to stable me.

  Pushing down the toilet cover, I sat down to rake my hands through my hair and rub my eyes hard. “Not about Aleksander. I don’t care about that part—really.”

  “Well, I would hope not. Aleksander’s not your fight, Yelene. Are you worried about Erik?”

  Tentatively shaking my head, I frowned deeply.

  Sascha leaned against the vanity. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I-it’s Igra. Last night—some things happened. Not much, but I thought to myself—it’s okay because we’re married and I am not a whore for wanting him when we only knew each other for a few days—but…” Trailing off uncertainly, I blustered a huge sigh and drooped my head in misery. “Ugh…”

  “Ah. You’re upset because it wasn’t that you like him or are attracted to him that justified what things happened, but that you were forced to marry him. He’s your husband, so you should want him, when in reality, Igra is a stranger.”

  Ducking my head lower in a nod, a tortured groan clogged my throat.

  “I understand how that can be upsetting,” Sascha soothed. “If you like him though, being married to him gives you an excuse to be around him and learn more about him. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t want to. I just want….” I want things to go back to how they were before my parents and I were separated. But that sounded so stupid and the words dried up on my tongue. Things would never be the same. Things couldn’t go back to before. No one could simply forget or ignore the past five years. “I don’t even know what I want.”

  “Maybe, you should figure out what you don’t want, to help you figure out what you do want. You’re not even twenty-one yet, Yelene. You don’t have to know what you want, but in any circumstance, you should know what you don’t want.”