Chapter Four
Kathleen
I look up from the book I’m reading to see my husband entering the bedroom. His massive body fills the space in the doorway, so tall that he actually has to bend slightly to clear the frame. He eyes me as he stalks his way over to the bed, giving me that look like he knows I’ve done something wrong. It’s an expression I’ve grown accustomed to seeing over the years, so I set my book aside and watch for his next move warily.
His eyes never leave me as he loosens his tie, moving his neck back and forth as he’s freed from its tight grip. His hands move with agile speed when he grabs both of my wrists, securing my hands with the tie that, just moments ago, served only as an accessory to complement his five thousand dollar suit.
I see the flash of victory in his eyes before I say, “I haven’t done anything.”
He leans in close to growl in my ear, and the familiar fear I’ve come to know with him sets my heart racing.
“Liar! You permitted our son to go to the warehouse. Would you like to know what happened there today?”
I frantically shake my head. I don’t want to hear the bloody tale about what happened to the man who’s been stealing from my husband.
“You hide around corners and listen in on my business dealings, but you don’t want the details? How interesting, Ptichka.”
I watch him as he slowly undresses and folds his clothing. He sets it all in a neat pile as if he has all the time in the world. First, he removes his suit jacket and dress shirt, and then it’s the knife strapped to his upper inner arm and gun holster. Next comes the ankle holster, and finally, his pants, socks, and shoes come off. When he is done, he stands before me with his cock jutting out and a knife in his hand, wearing nothing but a look of contemplation as he decides what to do with me.
“After twenty years of marriage, you still underestimate me. I’m hungry for blood—your blood, Ptichka.”
This is the reason why we have black sheets on our bed. This isn’t the first time his need for blood, my blood, has surfaced. My husband is a man with deviant sexual appetites, and he awakened a hunger in me only his brand of kink could appease.
“You would do well to not lie to me,” he says as he straddles my body. Still holding the knife, he moves to loosen the tie on the silk robe I’m wearing, and I suck in air through my teeth when he purposely nicks my skin. Blood seeps from the small cut he inflicted as he slices through my panties. Now easily removed, he wads them up and stuffs them in my mouth.
My body begins to dance beneath his. My arms are restrained by his tie and hooked to an iron spike on the headboard. The bonds, coupled with his weight pressing down on me from above, have rendered me completely helpless to him. He had our bed custom made to accommodate the various devices he likes to use to fulfill his need to sexually dominate me.
Muffled moans and pleas can be heard through the makeshift gag he has shoved inside my mouth. I’m begging him for mercy, but I can see he will grant me no leniency tonight.
“Shh, I won’t hurt you… too badly.” The knife blade trails over my nipple, already hardened to a peak from the attention he has given it. Even after twenty years, my body betrays me to my sadistic husband.
I jerk in fear as he drags the point of the blade down my abdomen, and another trickle of bloods makes its way down my side and onto the sheets. Thankfully, the black color will hide the evidence of our extreme play from the maid when she retrieves them tomorrow for the laundry.
He lays the knife down off to the side so that he can grab my legs, roughly folding them back like a paper accordion, before he positions his face at my core. My knees are now resting by my ears, and I am in the position he desires—open and vulnerable. He looks up at me through long dark lashes that veil ice-cold blue eyes. His long blond hair hangs loose from the band that normally holds it back, and it tickles my inner thighs as he laps at my folds. His tongue slowly works its magic as his full lips pull at my clit.
I am no longer moaning in pain, but instead, my muffled, agonized cries are evocative of a woman in desperate need of release. I know I won’t be brought to climax until my husband mandates it. He purposely wedges two fingers into my opening, adding to my primal need as he angles them back to stroke over my G-spot.
My body no longer dances beneath him; it now bucks and thrashes. I begin trying to spit out the gag in my mouth so I can tell him what I need, but he’s already well aware.
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
He growls when he sees what I’m attempting to do.
After nodding my head in acceptance, I resort to begging and pleading with my eyes. His only response is to chuckle as he continues to push me right to the edge, only to back off and deny me release before I get there.
He laps at my core again but stops long enough to question me.
“Are you going to lie to me anymore, Ptichka?”
I frantically shake my head, giving him the answer he desires. This time, when he takes me to the edge, he finally pushes me over, and I fall into a seemingly never-ending wave of pleasure as climax after climax rages through my body.
He gives me no time to recover before he places one leg over his muscular shoulder, keeping the other back by my ear. I can feel my eyes roll back in my head when he slams into me. He then stops all movement, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being fully sheathed inside me. I fist my hands, feeling my long nails bite into my palms. He’s turning me inside out, and the small bite of pain helps to ground me; it feels good in ways I don’t have the ability to process right now.
“Mine!”
He hisses as he begins moving in long, languid thrusts into my soaked opening. My head rolls to the side, and I give in to his beautiful abuse of my body. He is correct—my body is his to do with as he wills. It is true that my husband is a bastard. Nevertheless, I am his, and he is mine. I crave him with every fiber of my being. Bound together by the darkness that stains our souls, we will be forever joined; we are held captive by our own depravity.
Even in death, we will be forever linked. Our psyches have melded, and we are no longer individual beings. I can clearly see my future, yearning for sleep when he is no longer with me on this earth. Deprived of his physical being, I would prefer to join him in my dreams. I try not to think about the danger my husband’s life is in on a daily basis. At times, I find myself hoping that we die together so I don’t have to suffer the grief of his loss.
I’m a fucked-up soul who longs for a man even more unbalanced than I am. My husband was born into his world of craziness, but me… I was born for the purpose of helping him fulfill his role, and I am now in it for the long haul.
Every single day, I wonder if that bitch named karma will come to make good on the bloody debts we owe. Every single day she doesn’t, I am grateful for the one more day I have to live, love, and enjoy my family.
I’ve changed in the twenty years I’ve been entrenched in the Bratva culture. I now carry a pink and black Ruger in my purse, and everyone is viewed as a potential enemy. They could either be friends who turn into traitors or foes seeking vengeance against my husband. Danger is a constant threat because I’m seen as the weakest link in the man’s world I live in. After all, every organized crime boss knows that if you want to hurt your enemies, then you go after their hearts. For Glazov, his heart is his family: his wife, and children. If karma comes for me today, I plan on shooting the bitch right between the eyes.
Chapter Five
Glazov
My son, my beautiful son… Born of fire and an island unto himself, Kodiak is truly a loner amongst a crowd. The Russian meaning of his name is an island, and it suits him well. He holds so much inside, and I am one of the few who truly knows him. Something happened the day we broke through the flames together. When I saved my son’s life, we bonded. Forged in fire, we will forever be linked.
“What you did today, son, it unleashed something in you that can’t be tamed. There is no turning back now, and what was done cann
ot ever be undone.”
“I don’t want to tame it.”
Kodiak is stretched out on the leather sofa in my office and smoking as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He has a cool, easy-breezy way about him, but his mood quickly turns dark and stormy when he is crossed.
I’ll admit I had concerns about whether or not he’d be able to carry out the punishment on the man who stole from me, but Kodiak not only carried it out, it was his idea.
I look at him and study his features. His hair is so black that it has a bluish hue in bright sunlight, but it is his eyes that most people notice first, holding a true threat of danger. They are so black and savagely intense, it’s as if they promise peril with their menacing gaze. When Kodiak looks at you, you feel like you’ve been smacked in the face with brutal reality. They are the kind of eyes that make you look away, subconsciously submitting to his natural dominance. I wonder about the women in his life. He is so much like me before I wed his mother; there’s a different woman every night. I am curious about what kind of woman it will take to pull him into her web and stop his playboy ways. It will be interesting to see what the future holds for the young man, especially in regard to his love life.
“We need to discuss you taking over the gambling house on Fourth and Magnolia. How do you feel about it?”
“I feel like it will do that thieving motherfucker good to be forced to see my face every day. He’ll have to deal with the fact that he’ll be working for me for the rest of his life.”
“I want to call Novak in as your bodyguard.”
“Novak has his own business to run, Dad.”
“Novak is running my business in California. He works for me. No one will take guarding your life more seriously than him because he’s blood. He’s been discussing moving back to Louisville anyway. I have made up my mind. I’ll not have my son’s life in danger. I trust Novak; he’s family. This discussion is over, son!”
My son knows me well enough to know that once I have made up my mind, there is no changing it.
Kathleen
I stand under the showerhead and allow the hot water to wash over my body, relieving the abuse it suffered at the hands of my husband the night before. It is abuse I have learned to crave over the last twenty years, and the bruises serve as a reminder to keep my husband in the forefront of my mind. He succeeded in what he set out to do.
Though Glazov didn’t go in depth about what Kodiak had done, he did inform me that my son would be taking over the gambling establishment with the help of Glazov’s cousin, Novak.
Novak is the complete opposite of Glazov in appearance. His blond hair is spiked and cut close to his head. He has a large star tattoo on his neck where it peeks out above the collar of his dress shirts. He is a living canvas of tattoos and piercings, and he is as dangerous as his intimidating looks suggest.
Though he changed his name to Carl Simms, thinking it sounded less like the mobster he is, he is still Russian through and through. There was nothing he could do, including altering his name, to change the fact that he was born Mathias Novak. That is how we—his family—address him, and it is how we will continue to address him. I actually feel better about calling him that. It sounds more sinister, reminding me that he is ruthless and evil to the core; it makes him worthy of being my son’s bodyguard.
He will be arriving with his wife, Katrina, within the next couple of days, and as far as I’m concerned, the sooner he gets here the better. I don’t know what my son did to the man who was stealing from my husband, and I don’t want to know. I just want to know that my son will be protected by someone willing to kill to keep him safe, and Novak fits the bill.
Chapter Six
Glazov
I eye the men seated at the large table in the room of the gambling establishment where we hold our meetings. Before each meeting, the room is swept for bugs and other monitoring devices. Cell phones aren’t allowed, so they go into a container that holds them until the meeting is over. I am known for sporadically checking my employees for wires as well. In my line of work, it’s wise to trust no one. Hell, I’ve even gone so far as to order mandatory drug tests for all my employees. The last thing I want or need is some fucking junky in my organization. Addicts are too quick to steal, and they can easily be turned into snitches by the FBI. I take no chances; it is why I am calling my children in on this meeting. They are blood, and in the Bratva, they’re the only ones to be trusted. A child will always protect his future. The legacy I am leaving will be safe in the hands of those destined to inherit it.
“My son Kodiak,” I introduce him and take a moment to nod in his direction before I continue, “will be taking over the running of this house. I’m bringing in Novak to work alongside him. Be assured that he will take the responsibility of being my son’s bodyguard very seriously.”
“That motherfucker is ruthless,” one of my employees speaks out.
“That’s precisely the reason I chose him. Well, it was that and the fact that he and my son have always had close ties.”
Kodiak nods his head in agreement. Their shared fascination with and love of knives ensured they forged a lifelong bond from a very young age.
I decide now is the time for me to inform my employees that the man who was stealing from me won’t be returning. They don’t need to know he was my son’s first kill. Ironically enough, the man died from a staph infection he contracted in the hospital. Technically, we didn’t kill him; the hospital did. Oh, the irony…
“I was informed Vadim cut his fucking hand off while building furniture drunk. When I notified his wife of the accident, she said she has told him over and over not to drink and work with dangerous tools, but he failed to heed her warnings. I guess the guy should have listened,” I say and can’t help but smirk.
I’ve made the decision to lie to my men because I don’t want it coming back on my son. Deep down inside, I’m sure they know I’m responsible. The wife, however, must have believed the story because she confirmed it with hospital personnel.
Women are kept out of Bratva business for various reasons. My woman just happens to be so fucking nosy that she worms her way into things. She is not the typical wife who is kept ignorant, and for that reason, I keep my little troublemaker on a very short leash. Of course, there’s also the fact that she intrigues the hell out of me, and I just want her close.
The same man who had spoken up concerning Novak speaks up again.
“Yeah, karma is a bitch. He shouldn’t have been stealing from you.”
He smirks and gives me a look that conveys he knows I am responsible for the thief’s death.
The lie works out great for me. No one will be exacting revenge on me in future years if they believe his death was accidental. Also, the offender only had daughters, which in most cases presents less of a threat for future retaliation. In some cases, like with my daughter, a woman can be more ruthless than a man. Thankfully, in this situation, that isn’t the case.
I deduce Vadim must have agreed to the bodyguard’s story because he is the one who originally told the hospital he had an accident with a skill saw. It works perfectly for me because it leaves no loose ends concerning his death. It is a new day, a day in which my children will be taking their rightful places in the organization. I am excited to see how they fare. It will be interesting to watch how their personalities will manifest in my world. I have no doubt they will succeed. I have put years of training into them, and now I am ready to see them put it to good use.
I am also pleased about Novak’s impending arrival; it will be good to have extended family here to watch our backs. Plans that have been years in the making are finally upon me, and I have full intentions of solidifying our dynasty. I stand and dismiss everyone.
“I have prior engagements. This meeting is over.”
I purposely cut the meeting short when no one is expecting it; it keeps the people who work for me on their toes. They never know what I might do, and they damn sure never know what I’m thin
king.
Chapter Seven
Kathleen
I quickly sneak out to my car while Yafon is busy in a meeting with Glazov. There are times I want to be alone, and today is one of those days. I have some errands to run, and that gives me the perfect excuse to get some desperately needed time away—time in which one of Glazov’s many bodyguards isn’t breathing down my neck.
I turn on the music and soak up the air conditioning. It is hot and muggy outside, and the sundress I’m wearing does little to assuage the effects of the heat wave we’re all being forced to endure right now.
My first stop will be the library. Though I have access to anything I need online, I still enjoy occasional jaunts to the local library. Like many lovers of literature, I enjoy the smell of books and the atmosphere that no other place but the library can give me.
I find myself slowly making my way down the long aisles, lovingly running my hands over the books’ spines. It is so easy to lose myself amongst the countless volumes. I must have spent more time here than I realized because when I finally do make my way up to check out the books I’ve collected, it is already late in the afternoon, and the threat of dusk is upon me.
I decide I’ll wait to do the grocery shopping I had planned on, and instead, I just hit my favorite boutique to purchase the candles I love. No one else in town carries them, so I always have to make a special trip.
Glazov's Legacy (Born Bratva Book 2) Page 2
