Kiss Me (Kiss of Death Book 2)

by LP Lovell

  “Sasha, please,” I whisper. I hear his ragged sigh, and then he lets go of my hand, glancing towards the door before releasing the leather cuff. I hesitantly place my hand on the tiny baby’s back and clutch him to my chest, pressing my lips to his head. He lets out a small cry and I pull him closer to my neck. “Thank you,” I whisper to Sasha.

  The door opens, and just like that, I know. Nicholai stands off to the side, a smug smile on his face. “He is perfect, little dove.”

  I spread my fingers over his tiny body, wishing it were enough to keep him clutched to me, but this was always a losing battle. I know that the only way to save him is to let him go. But my heart can’t handle it, and this need unlike anything I’ve ever felt is raging inside my head, screaming at me to hold onto him, to never let him go.

  The nurse pries him away from me, and a fresh wave of tears flow freely. I don’t even have the will power to stop them. He’s wrapped in a towel and handed to Nicholai who coos at him like a proud new father, but he’s not Nicholai’s child. He’s Nero’s. He’s mine.

  “Thank you, little dove,” he says, and then he walks out of the room, taking my baby with him. Pain and heartbreak like I’ve never felt consume me, and this horrible noise echoes around the room. It takes me a few seconds to realize that the sound is me. It’s the sound of a heart shattering. It’s the sound of a mother losing her child.

  I allow the dark waters to surround me, to become as a soothing embrace. For the briefest of moments, I consider just opening my mouth and inhaling. The pain in my chest is this constant ache and part of me wishes I could just cut it out, but I can’t, I won’t because it reminds me that my child was real. And that is the very reason that I must survive at any cost.

  My lungs start to burn and my fingers twitch, a nervous reaction, my body screaming at me that this is not good. Pain is all in the mind, and fear is nothing but pointless emotion, so I force it back the way I was trained to. The hand wrapped around the back of my neck wrenches me upright and I drag in a lungful of air. Nicholai stands across the water tank from me, his arms folded over his chest as he frowns at me. Moving closer, he studies me, assessing every little detail, every tiny reaction. When he’s barely a foot away he stares into my eyes and I stare right back, refusing to look away or show any emotion.

  His lips twist into a small smile. “You think you hide it so well, little dove.”

  “Hide what?”

  He strokes the back of his hand over my cheek, tilting his head to the side. “The fire in your eyes. The anger. You hate me now, but in time, you will see. I do this because I love you. I will make you strong again, and then everything will be as it once was.” I clench my jaw and nod. “But first, I must remind you of what you are. You are a creature of my making, little dove, and I will break you over and over until you remember it, until you know nothing else.” A tremor of fear works through my body and goosebumps dot my skin. I know he’ll do exactly as he says, and I know I’m not strong enough for it. I thought I could do this, but being here—I remember why I became his creature. Simply because it was easier. If you let go of your soul, you can’t feel it being decimated one piece at a time.

  “Now, take her to level six,” Nicholai says dismissively before I’m marched out of the room. Level six is where they perform all the electro shock therapy. It’s been two days since I gave birth and my body is already screaming from the trauma of it, but this is what I must endure. The quicker he gets this over with, the better. I just hope I don’t break because even at full strength and with my emotions in check, Nicholai’s methods push the mind and body to a place it should never have to go.

  26

  Nero

  It’s cold as fuck. I’m sitting in a car with Gio in the passenger seat, and we’re parked at the side of a narrow country road that’s halfway hidden under the cover of the forest. Snow falls all around us, and even though I can see my breath in front of my face, we can’t turn the engine on.

  The deal I made with Sasha was vague at best. He would help me. Help Una. But I had to stop the killings, lay low and wait for him to contact me. So, I agreed and he went back to Russia with an authentic looking bullet hole in his shoulder. It hasn’t been easy. It’s been weeks and everything has been eerily quiet. Doing nothing has felt like a slow torture.

  Sasha’s message was simple. A set of co-ordinates and a time and date, along with the instruction to stay out of sight until the time is right. That was it. I don’t know what we’re waiting for, or when that right time will be, but we have ten minutes until whatever is supposed to be happening will happen. Of course, the co-ordinates were for just outside Smolensk, near the Russia and Belarus border.

  I’m on edge because we’re in Russia. I can only hope that means Una has somehow escaped. The ten minutes come and go, and I’m getting more and more agitated when we see a set of headlights round the corner. We’ve been here for nearly an hour and I haven’t seen one car on this road. The car passes us and pulls into a shallow shoudler before it cuts its engine.

  Gio glances at me. “Sasha could have been a little more informative,” he remarks.

  I say nothing as I keep my eyes locked on that car. No one gets out. It just sits there. And then, a few minutes later, another set of headlights. A truck. It slows as it approaches and pulls into the shoulder behind the car. The doors of the car open and two guys get out, both armed with rifles.

  “I guess this is it,” Gio says.

  I take my gun from its spot on the dashboard. “Go in fast and hard. They won’t be expecting us.” He nods, palming his gun as we quietly leave the car. The powdery snow makes our footfalls completely silent. The bitter cold threatens to make my fingers numb. We follow the tree line until we’re right across the road from the truck. Two men have gotten out of it and the group of four are approaching the back of the truck. There’s the loud clatter of the roller door being lifted, and then I hear it, a tiny cry coming from the back of that truck. The cry of a baby. I’m running across that road before the men have even really registered it. I shoot two of them before a rifle is pointed my way. Gio is right behind me though, taking them out. I get to the back of the truck and look inside. It’s dark, but I can make out shelves, stacked with weapons, boxes of amo and supplies. And in the corner, the source of that tiny cry. I jump inside and get out my phone, turning on the torch. There’s a black duffel bag hidden behind crates of explosives. I can’t think about that now though. I unzip the bag, and there, wrapped in several blankets is a tiny baby. My baby.

  I pick up the scrap of paper that’s tucked into the blanket and read over the messy writing.

  I cannot help Una, but she will be fine. Look after her son. He is her happiness.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and scoop up my baby, my boy, holding him to my chest. I owe Sasha a debt that I can never repay. Jumping down from the back of the truck, I meet Gio’s gaze. A soft smile pulls at his lips as he glances at the bundle of blankets screaming in my arms.

  “She did it,” he says.

  I nod. She did and now I can only hope that this wasn’t a sacrifice. As I hold him in my arms, I’ve never loved Una more. I need her. He needs her. I will protect our son with my life until she comes home. She promised me.

  “Blow up the truck,” I say, stepping over bodies as I head back to the car.

  27

  Una

  My back hits the concrete floor with a thud that resonates through my bones. The guy presses his knee into my chest and lands three blows to my face. I lift my guard, but it’s no use. My muscles are weak from being in an induced coma for so long. My body is soft and still recovering from the baby I had only a week ago. But this is what it is to be Elite, pain and suffering, because weakness is not tolerated. Nicholai is proving a point, even though it was him who put me in a coma.

  “I thought she was supposed to be the best,” he says, grunting as he goes for another punch. A few of the other Elite snicker under their breath. The kid’s arrogant an
d lacking in respect. I allow him to land two more blows on me, leading him into a false sense of security before I break cover and summon all my strength, punching him in the throat. His eyes go wide and he coughs, trying to suck in a breath through his collapsed trachea. I shove him off me and his face starts to turn purple.

  I climb to my hands and knees, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the concrete. Normally, I would relish in being back on this concrete, fighting with newly trained Elite because no one else can provide me with a good fight. But right now, every single part of my body hurts. My face is swelling and I’m pretty sure my nose and cheekbone are broken. The ribs on my right side throb painfully and my knuckles are split open to the bone. This is what it is to meet Nicholai’s standards.

  I see his shiny dress shoes step into my line of vision, and then he crouches down, much the same way I’ve seen Nero do when he wants to drive home the fact that he is the one with all the power. His finger presses under my chin and he lifts my face. I make a conscious effort to wipe all trace of thought or emotions from my expression as I look at him through swelling eyes.

  “You were once the best, Una,” he says, disappointment painting his features. I say nothing and he simply shakes his head, walking away. I watch him walk out the door. Sasha is leaning against the wall beside the doorway, his thick arms folded over his chest. His blond eyebrows pull together in a tight frown as he pushes away from the wall, moving past me. As soon as he stands in front of them the Elite all stand to attention.

  “Adam, get back in line,” he snaps, and the kid who just beat the shit out of me gets to his feet, clutching at his throat. “Take note. You underestimate her because you see her as weak, and she is right now. But…” He steps back until he’s beside me. “Una Ivanov is the only soldier to ever be awarded the name Ivanov. She is feared by men much more lethal than any of you. By all means, take advantage of her weakness, it is what a good fighter does, but do not disrespect her. Even at her weakest she still bests you, Adam.” I bristle at the fact that he is continuously calling me weak. “Dismissed.” They peel away, heading to the barracks at the back of the training room. He turns and looks at me, his eyes touching on various points of my body. I know he’s assessing injuries. “You’ve gone to shit,” he says.

  “I just had a fucking baby,” I growl, even as I know it’s no excuse. Not in this place.

  He sighs and tugs at the neck line of my tank top, revealing a deep and ugly bruise that I know is settling into the deep tissue of my shoulder. I’m pretty sure I’ve torn a ligament as well, but honestly, between the broken bones and concussion, I think it’s the least of my worries. “Come on.” He turns and goes to the door, entering a code on the pad before stepping into the corridor. I follow him to a door down the hall. When he opens it, I want to turn around and walk back out. “Sasha,” I groan.

  He whips around, a stern expression on his face. “This is day one. If you don’t shape up fast, he’s going to let them kill you, Una. You will only get back into his good graces if you become what you were.” He cocks a brow. “You must be the best.”

  He’s right. I know he’s right. He goes to the enormous metal tub and turns the water on before going to the massive steel chest freezer in the corner and opening it. He scoops several buckets of ice into the water and holds his hand out to me. Stripping out of my clothes, I step up to the tub and take a deep breath before I grasp his hand, throwing my leg over the side. The easiest way to do ice baths is to do it fast, so I quickly step in with both feet, sucking in a sharp breath before I drop below the water.

  “I think I’d rather have the electrocutions,” I say through tightly clenched teeth. The freezing cold only adds to the throbbing pain rippling over every inch of skin.

  He smirks, sitting on the edge of the metal tub. “You’ll go numb in a minute.” I nod. “Has Nicholai mentioned anything about your child?” he asks, causing an entirely different kind of pain to settle deep in my chest.

  “No,” I say and he nods slowly. “Why?” His bright green eyes meet mine and he hesitates for a second. “Why? What’s happened to him, Sasha?”

  “He has been taken. Nicholai can only surmise that it must be a mole, someone Nero Verdi has paid off.”

  I think about that for a second. What if it isn’t Nero? “Why does he think it’s Nero?” His eyes dart around the room and I know what he’s thinking, nowhere is safe in this place. Everything can be heard.

  “Your Italian has been making quite the nice little bloodbath. He declared to Dimitri that for every day he did not have you and his child, he would kill a Russian woman and child. Though he stopped after I tried to kill him. We can only surmise that he fears the repercussions of his rash actions.” I fight a smile. Nero fears nothing and would welcome repercussions. Sasha made a deal with him. It’s the only plausible explanation. Which means Sasha helped get my baby out of here. He lied when he said he wouldn’t help me.

  I sit up in the ice bath and pull him into a loose hug. “Thank you,” I whisper against his ear.

  When I pull back he nods. The idea that Nero has our baby, that he is safe, has that ache in my chest diminishing. And without it, the physical pain feels like an easy burden to bear. Now I must focus on my mission here. I must immerse myself in the Elite again, become the best, earn their respect, and then, with Sasha’s help, I am going to bring Nicholai down, surrounded by the very soldiers he trained.

  “Okay, get out. We’re going to train,” Sasha says.

  No pain, no gain, right? This is going to be plenty painful.

  28

  Una

  I close my eyes and grit my teeth, waiting for the touch to come. My entire body is trembling, demanding I react. I’ve been here before, back when I was trained, but that was to purpose, for a reason. This…this just feels like punishment and slowly, piece by piece, it is shredding my humanity.

  I hear the shifting of feet. A palm slams around my arm, the cool metal of the glove touching my skin before unloading a massive electric shock. Kill, kill, kill. It’s my only thought, over and over until I can comprehend nothing else. My mind shuts down, completely blank. I react, instinct overriding everything. It’s as though I’m watching a TV, watching someone else break the man’s arm and snap his neck with such force that his lower jaw comes almost completely loose. Another Elite moves towards me and I watch as I go hand to hand with him. He raises a gun and I shove his wrist to the side, snapping his arm until the gun is pointed at his own chest, then I squeeze the trigger twice, ending him. Another starts to approach…

  “Enough!” Sasha’s voice booms through the room and I swing my gun in his direction, then at Nicholai standing against the far wall. “Una, drop the gun.” It’s Sasha. I try and force my body to obey, my fingers to release the gun. My hand shakes. He moves closer until the barrel of the gun is against his chest. “Una, look at me.” I look at him and he wraps his fingers around the gun, careful not to touch me. I slowly release the gun and stagger back a step. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to force the red mist from my mind. I drop to a crouch and press the heels of my hands against my eyelids. “You push her too far,” Sasha says.

  “I give her what she needs,” is Nicholai’s cool response.

  “She will break. Her skills are unparalleled, but if you break her mind, she will be of no use to us. If you wish to punish her so, just shoot her already.”

  “You forget your place,” Nicholai growls.

  “I train the soldiers. And she is my best.” I hear the heavy steel door open and then close again. “Una.” I open my eyes and glance up at Sasha who is towering over me. The floor around him is covered in blood. And two mangled bodies lay at the center of the mess. “Go and get cleaned up.” He jerks his head towards the door and I stand, walking numbly down the hallway.

  I can’t take much more of this. He’s been doing this for a month straight, forcing me to endure and kill. It’s simple, instinct and lack of conscience are what make the perfect killer. Touch conditio
ning hones in on the most primal of instincts, forcing the things that make us fundamentally human from our mind, and without that, emotions—affection, love—they are all inconsequential. He’s turning me into an animal and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  29

  Una

  One month later

  I grip the smooth length of wood, wrapping my fingers around it. Vadim stands across from me, his arms braced wide as he grips his own bo staff. A small smile touches his lips as he watches me through the dark hair which has fallen over his face. He’s a few years younger than me, but he’s good.

  I shift to the left and he does the same, mimicking my movements. I study the way he glides over the ground, and he does the same to me. Suddenly, he breaks away, coming at me. The two sticks crack against each other, moving so fast that it’s nothing more than a series of clicks. He strikes forward, but reaches too far. I manage to maneuver to the side, slam my stick across his shoulder blades, and step on his foot, sending him crashing to the ground. I walk off to the side of the improvised ring, cracking my neck to the side. Sasha is standing close, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he watches me. He has grilled me constantly for weeks, and finally, my body is what it once was. To attack and kill is again as instinctual to my muscles as breathing. I hear Vadim get to his feet, and then he’s rushing me. I smile. Stupid boy. Sasha’s eyebrows raise a fraction and I bring my knee up, cracking the wood over it. In a split second I whirl and launch the splintered piece of wood like a spear. It hits Vadim in the shoulder so hard that he ends up on his back on concrete. I walk over and stare down at him, clutching at the piece of wood protruding from his mangled shoulder. That familiar sense of satisfaction washes over me, power and the sheer thrill of violence are like a drug.