Love Is In the Air Volume 1

by Susan Stoker

  My words are his undoing. A primal grunt tumbles from his lips as one strong arm wraps around my waist, the other resuming its punishing thrusts. “You know nothing of darkness.” Rising to his feet, he carries me across the room, my legs automatically coiling around his waist. “Hell is my home. The devil is my father. And blood is my air. I will break you, lisichka. You will live to regret this.”

  “No,” I rasp, holding his manic stare. “You will.”

  With a roar, Mik slams my back against the wall. It isn’t until I hear chains rattling that I realize what’s happening. The cold shackle clamps around my wrist, quickly followed by a second.

  The red room is a bondage fantasy suite. I picked it on purpose as a middle finger to my father, never thinking about the consequences.

  Because it was never supposed to get this far.

  “The only thing I will ever regret, lisichka, is allowing your insolence.” Pulling his fingers out, he holds my stare while his tongue laps at my arousal. Once my taste hits his tongue, it’s as if the razor-sharp need tearing at his flesh severs the final layer of his humanity. Lowering his hand to my hip, he slides it inward, toward the thin string blocking my opening. Gripping the material in both hands, he lifts his head and glares at me. “Byt' ispugannym. YA unichtozhu tebya.”

  The words blacken my vision.

  Be frightened, little fox. I will destroy you.

  Growling, he tears the string in half, leaving my G-string hanging around my waist in tatters. Mik doesn’t bother to remove it, and why should he? He’s given himself the access he needs.

  We stare at each other—predator to prey. All signs of humanity are gone from his eyes as he viciously strokes himself, the tip of his cock leaking.

  “Are you a whore?”

  I blink. “Excuse me?”

  “You are a stripper, yes?”

  As far as he knows… “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then do not play coy with me.” His fist works his cock harder. “Do you fuck men for money?”

  “Why? Do you suddenly have standards?”

  “No, lisichka. I have needs. And they cannot be satisfied through a piece of latex.” He spits out the word as if it’s the most vulgar of insults.

  I’m about to tell him where he can shove his needs when I realize what he’s asking. He’s not calling me a whore. He’s asking if I’m clean.

  Holy shit. This crazy Russian wants to fuck me bare.

  “And if I do?”

  As if a light switch turns off, he releases his cock and steps back. “Then we are done here.”

  We should be. But my mouth speaks the words before I can stop it. “The answer is no. I have never serviced the VIP rooms.”

  The smile curving his lips isn’t born of relief. It’s conjured from the depths of depravity. This is dangerous. I’m at his mercy. This man, this machine, admitted he’s looking for me, and I’ve allowed him to restrain me. If he came here to kill me, I just handed him the knife.

  This isn’t a game anymore. It’s suddenly very real.

  7

  Zasha

  “Mik…” It’s the only word I get out before he wraps a tattooed hand around my throat. At that moment, I taste terror.

  “Tell me you are afraid,” he demands through clenched teeth as his other hand hitches under my right thigh and hooks it around his waist. “Tell me I am a monster. Tell me you are too young and innocent.”

  “No.”

  The room is silent, but the sound of the final snap of his control is like a gunshot. A tortured, feral groan rips from his throat seconds before he slams inside me. The impact rips the breath from my lungs so savagely, I can’t even scream.

  What have I done?

  I don’t have time to contemplate an answer. As brutal as his first thrust was, the moment he tightens his hold on my throat, I know the second will be worse.

  I’m right.

  He jerks his hips back, and this time, I scream as he mercilessly drives back in, punishing me for sins I know nothing about.

  My mind blanks. I forget about warnings and threats and revenge. Right now, my world revolves around the man fucking me like an animal.

  The louder I shout, the tighter his hand grips my throat. The harder he fucks, the higher he pushes my leg until my muscles cry out in agony.

  “That is it. Scream for me, lisichka. Let the whole club hear how I own you.”

  A tornado of chaos swoops down and spins me toward destruction. “Shit! I’m coming!”

  “Nyet! You will not come until I allow it.” The sound of wet flesh echoes in the room as he violently pulls out and drops to his knees. I barely have time to register what’s happening when he drapes my thighs over each shoulder.

  His thick fingers spread me apart seconds before his tongue punishes my clit like a steel-tipped bullet.

  I can’t take it. It’s too much. Too powerful. Throwing my head back, I jerk on my restraints, my legs tightening around his neck as I come until I have no breath left in my lungs.

  Mik rises to his feet while still gripping my legs, the remnants of my orgasm on his lips and the devil in his eyes. “I have consumed your pleasure, lisichka. Now it is your turn to consume mine.” Sinking his fingers into the back of my thighs, he shoves my back and my legs against the blood red wall.

  He stares at me, as if etching the image in his mind. “I own nothing in this world.” His voice is so haunting that even in the midst of brutality and deviance, my heart hurts for him. The loneliness and loss simmering below the surface of that façade cuts me deeper than any blade. Then the coin flips, and that arctic smile flashes again as he slams back into me. “But this pussy is very much mine.”

  As if to erase any doubt, he pumps his hips like a man possessed. I should feel violated and used, but I don’t. I feel alive. Bathed in sin and drunk with power, I cry out, my walls squeezing his cock as I come for the second time.

  “Fuck!” His curse is followed by a string of Russian obscenities moments before his cock jerks inside me. Throwing his head back, he roars out a primal release.

  There are only a few precious beats of silence before his walls come slamming back down.

  “Keys,” he demands.

  “What?”

  “Where are the keys to the handcuffs?”

  I’m too spent to bother with full sentences. “No key. Safety release. Button. Bottom.” My lips barely form the last word when a click and a pop releases my restraints, dropping me to the floor like a worn ragdoll.

  Shit, I didn’t expect roses and a ring, but that was a little extreme.

  Still floating on a crimson cloud, it’s only when I look up at him and blink through the dissipating haze of lust that I realize what we’ve done—and where.

  Oh my God.

  I wanted to break down Mik’s defenses and expose his secrets. Instead, I’ve exposed ours. While I fucked my father’s oldest friend, the security camera in the corner filmed everything.

  I wanted to show him I could be an asset to the Brava.

  Instead, I proved to be a liability.

  Neither of us speak, which is fine with me. There’s really not much to say at this point. Besides, my mind is too cluttered for conversation. Not only did I fail to get information; I just fucked a man who may or may not want me dead. The same man my father’s going to kill for it.

  Climbing to my feet, I dress quickly while racking my brain trying to figure out how to hack into the security camera feeds, when a text chimes on my phone.

  Mik zips his jeans as I walk past him and scoop my discarded phone off the floor. As soon as the screen illuminates, I wish it hadn’t.

  WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

  “How long have we been in here?” I ask, attempting an even tone.

  There’s a brief beat of silence. “Fifty-seven minutes.”

  “Oh God.”

  Although I’m turned the opposite way, I know he’s behind me. “What is wrong?”

  I glance back down at my phone, the w
ords sending a wave of panic crashing over me. “We have to go…Now!” I grab his hand, ignoring the way it immediately stiffens.

  “You are upset, yes?”

  Yes, goddamn it. I’m upset. I’m mad. I’m ashamed.

  But most of all, I’m fucking petrified.

  “Mik, please…” Gripping his hand tighter, I drag him toward the door. Surprisingly, he follows without argument.

  Until my phone springs to life again. This time, it’s ringing. I try to mask the face on the screen, but Mik grabs it out of my hand, the muscles in his neck tight.

  “Why the hell is Ava Chernova calling a stripper?” Before I can craft a convincing lie, his phone chimes. Muttering under his breath, he pulls out a small black burner phone out of the pocket of his jacket. “Wait,” he commands.

  “Old girlfriend?” I joke nervously.

  “New detail,” he says, tapping the screen. “One I have been waiting for.” Antsy, I shift from foot to foot as he scans the text. His blond eyebrows furrow in confusion, until every bit of color drains from his flushed cheeks. Holding both phones in a death grip, he lifts his head and stares at me. Hard. “Oh fuck.”

  “What?”

  “You…” he says, filling the word with dark contempt. “You are Zasha Gaheris.”

  Well, there’s no use denying it now. Besides, I have more important things to worry about right now than my unveiled identity.

  I shrug. “I told you the name sounded familiar.”

  He scowls at my quip. “You said your name was Bebe.”

  “It is. Baby Bee. The initials are Bebe…” At the blank look on his face, I roll my eyes. “It’s my father’s nickname for me. You didn’t actually think I’d give you my real one, did you?”

  At the mention of my father, Mik steps back, his hand diving into his unruly blond hair. “You are Niko’s daughter. And I just…” He glances back at the shackles hanging from the ceiling. “We just—” Facing me, he exhales a breath of finality. “He is going to kill me.”

  That’s another dramatic American phrase—this time used in perfect context. Leave it to him to choose now to finally get one right.

  Before I can offer a worthless promise, my phone chimes again. Another text pops up as Mik holds it in a death grip. But before I can explain the words on the screen, a familiar voice shouts in perfect Russian, the sound carrying from the end of the hallway and through the door.

  “YA naydu tebya i ub'yu, Zasha!” I’m going to find you and then kill you, Zasha!

  When it comes to Mama, those aren’t just idle words. “We have to go!”

  “Are you fucking insane? Ava Chernova is outside that door, and I am in here”—he glances down at our entwined hands—“cavorting with her daughter!”

  I don’t have time for this shit.

  “So what are you going to do? Hide in here until the cavalry arrives?”

  He glares at me. “Do you have a better idea?”

  I shift my gaze over his shoulder at the padded red wall. “Actually, yes. Do you have a knife on you?”

  Pulling away, he steps back and folds his arms across his chest. “Give me one good reason to give it to you, Zasha Gaheris.”

  I cringe at the contempt he shoves into speaking my full name, but I’ll lick my wounds another time. This is not about ego; this is about survival.

  “Because I’m your only hope of making it out of here with your balls attached, Mikhail Drozdov.”

  8

  Mikhail

  Never give a woman a knife. Especially one who just damned you to death.

  If Minx’s text had come through one fucking second before walking into that VIP room, I would not be in this situation. I would not have crossed a line I can never take back.

  Now I know why that fire and unwavering confidence drew me in. Why I found it so enticing. I could not explain it at the time, but once Zasha Gaheris’s face appeared on my phone, the ease of her deception made perfect sense.

  I was hunting her while she was already stalking me.

  Guilt and shame, two emotions I turned my back on long ago, coil around me like a serpent. Not only did I sever the bond of brotherhood with one lustful act, but I violated the most sacred of oaths.

  When Zasha was born, Ava was determined to save her soul, despite the depravity she was born into. That determination included twisting a Catholic rite of faith into an unrecognizable shield of darkness.

  A godfather with stained hands and charred hearts.

  When Niko informed me that I was to serve as godfather, I refused. Although I grew up Russian Orthodox, I had long forsaken godly practices. Besides, I had nothing to offer the child but danger, blood, and sacrifice.

  However, no one refuses Niko Gaheris.

  Eighteen-years ago, I reluctantly promised Niko to protect his daughter. Even though I walked away from my oath five years later, a father never forgets.

  And now instead of protecting her, I have defiled her.

  I hand over my dagger, refusing to my eyes off Zasha as she holds my blade like a skilled warrior and slashes a diagonal line into the padded wall.

  The next thirty seconds are nothing but a blur. Ripping the severed plastic wide open, Zasha plunges her hand inside, digging through the destroyed padding. I marvel at her composed stealth in a storm of chaos, the Bratva blood she hid so well, now shining like a…

  Like a fucking diamond.

  I am beginning to think I am cursed.

  My pulse beats in my ear like a ceremonial drum as the angry voices in the hallway grow closer. “Any fucking day now…”

  Those cunning eyes snap over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, would you like to do this?”

  “Zasha…”

  “Because if they open that door first”—she waves the knife across the room, pointing the tip at the door—“there won’t be equitable consequences. I’ll just rot in captivity. You’ll rot in the ground.”

  At her satisfied smirk, I scrub my hand down my face. “Clamp your pie hole and do it then!”

  “What the hell…?” She blinks in confusion, then shakes her head. “Forget it.” Pulling out a small silver key out of the wall, she does not hesitate before jamming it onto an even smaller vertical slit in the dead center of her massacre. With a turn of her hand, the whole damn wall separates from the rest of the room.

  “A secret door?”

  “My grandfather was into some fucked up shit, Mik. Hidden exits kept him alive far longer than it should have. Heads up.” Two words are my only warning before she flicks her wrist, tossing my dagger back to me.

  I catch the handle, unnerved at our fluidity. She moves, and I react. We are natural magnets, choreographed by destiny and damned by fate.

  Clamping her hands around the edge of the dislodged wall, she pries it open. “Well? Are you just going to stand there? Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

  Clearing the room in three steps, I crowd in behind her and follow her into what I hope is not another lie.

  Another deception.

  I let my guard down, allowing her to slither past my defenses.

  If I was not so fucked, I might have been impressed.

  “What are you doing?” Zasha hisses, dragging me through a dark, narrow hallway. It is so small I have to nearly fold myself in half to clear it. “Hurry!”

  Hurry toward what? My death? Because that is all that waits for me on the other side of that door. Once Miami’s most feared union watches that camera footage, my days will be numbered.

  There will be no mercy from Niko. My closest ally will find and kill me—not with a quick bullet to the head, but slowly and painfully with every tool imaginable.

  Just as my body starts to protest the twisted, unnatural position, we arrive at a dead end. There is nowhere else to go. We are trapped like rats.

  “Lisichka…”

  “Shhhh,” she whispers, running her palm along the wall in front of us until she finds what she is looking for. Inserting the key into another invisible lock, s
he turns toward me. “Your turn, Iceman. Heave-ho.”

  “Heave, what?”

  “Jesus Christ,” she groans, palming her forehead. “On the count of three, ram that tree trunk of a body of yours against this door.” Before I can agree, she is counting. “One, two…”

  On three, we both throw our weight forward, tumbling out into an alleyway nearly half a block away from the backside of the club.

  Once I have my bearings, I realize my rental car is parked not too far away from here—two, maybe three streets over.

  I am going to fucking make it.

  Over two decades of training kick in, and I step back into a familiar skin: survival mode.

  I run all of half a foot before a small but firm hand grabs my arm. “You aren’t just going to leave me here, are you?”

  That is an asinine question. “Yes.”

  A solid punch lands in the center of my chest. “I just saved your ass, Mikhail Drozdov, and you repay me by throwing me to the wolves? You fucking asshole!”

  “I cannot take you with me—” My automatic excuse stalls on my tongue. Niko will be furious, but he will not kill her. However, there is still someone out there who has paid fifty million to ensure someone does.

  The danger does not leave with me. A freight train of death is coming for her. I came to Miami to warn her parents, but after what I have done, neither Ava nor Niko will listen to a damn thing I have to say.

  I took this job. I will finish it.

  Bending down, I grab her around the waist and haul her over my shoulder.

  “Mik!” she squeals as I run. “What the hell?”

  I slap her ass. “Quiet!”

  “Where are we going?” Bracing her palms against my back, she lifts her head to scan her surroundings.

  “I do not know,” I huff, rounding the corner. Unfortunately, it is the truth. I am running on adrenaline and acting on impulse. I have no fucking idea where we are going. All I know is that it will be far away from here.