by Katee Robert
Her Vengeful Embrace
An Island of Ys Novel
Katee Robert
Copyright © 2019 by Katee Robert
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Oliviaprodesigns
Cover image by Jenn LeBlanc at Smexy Studios
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-951329-96-9
Print ISBN: 978-1-951329-95-2
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To all the fans of Death out there.
Also by Katee Robert
The Island of Ys
Book 1: His Forbidden Desire
Book 2: Her Rival’s Touch
Book 3: His Tormented Heart
Book 4: Her Vengeful Embrace
* * *
The Wicked Villains Series
Book 1: Desperate Measures
Book 2: Learn My Lesson
Book 3: A Worthy Opponent
Book 4: The Beast
* * *
The Thalanian Dynasty Series (MMF)
Book 1: Theirs for the Night
Book 2: Forever Theirs
Book 3: Theirs Ever After
Book 4: Their Second Chance
* * *
The Kings Series
Book 1: The Last King
Book 2: The Fearless King
* * *
The Hidden Sins Series
Book 1: The Devil’s Daughter
Book 2: The Hunting Grounds
Book 3: The Surviving Girls
* * *
The Make Me Series
Book 1: Make Me Want
Book 2: Make Me Crave
Book 3: Make Me Yours
Book 4: Make Me Need
* * *
The O’Malley Series
Book 1: The Marriage Contract
Book 2: The Wedding Pact
Book 3: An Indecent Proposal
Book 4: Forbidden Promises
Book 5: Undercover Attraction
Book 6: The Bastard’s Bargain
* * *
The Hot in Hollywood Series
Book 1: Ties that Bind
Book 2: Animal Attraction
* * *
The Foolproof Love Series
Book 1: A Foolproof Love
Book 2: Fool Me Once
Book 3: A Fool for You
* * *
Out of Uniform Series
Book 1: In Bed with Mr. Wrong
Book 1.5: His to Keep
Book 2: Falling for His Best Friend
Book 3: His Lover to Protect
Book 3.5: His to Take
* * *
Serve Series
Book 1: Mistaken by Fate
Book 2: Betting on Fate
Book 3: Protecting Fate
* * *
Come Undone Series
Book 1: Wrong Bed, Right Guy
Book 2: Chasing Mrs. Right
Book 3: Two Wrongs, One Right
Book 3.5: Seducing Mr. Right
* * *
Other Books
Seducing the Bridesmaid
Meeting His Match
Prom Queen
The Siren’s Curse
Contents
Content Warning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
About the Author
Content Warning
This book contains characters with a history of childhood abuse (that is not described in graphic detail in the story).
Chapter 1
The Warren was nothing like Amarante expected.
She stepped out of the car she’d rented upon arriving in Switzerland and looked at the massive building sprawled into the nooks and crannies of the mountainside. Intelligence said half the floor plan was actually carved into the mountain itself, but she’d still expected something… subtler. It looked like a lodge or resort or something designed to draw people in, which was the last thing the Warren aimed to do. Or, rather, it had no interest in the kind of tourist activity the other resorts in this area catered to.
With two checkpoints and forbidding-looking, well-trained guards, there was little danger of said tourists wandering in at an inopportune time. Rich people liked what they liked, even the criminals. Especially the criminals. It stood to reason that nothing but the best, most blatantly expensive, would do.
A bellman appeared to unload her luggage, but Amarante’s focus fell onto the white man striding out the main doors in her direction. Even knowing what little there was to know about Nicholai Krylov, it still surprised her to see how young he looked in person. He was a few years younger than her thirty-two, and while he hardly had a baby face, his large green eyes seemed almost innocent. Or maybe it was his full mouth. She didn’t know, but she didn’t trust it. Not when she knew in gory detail exactly what happened to those who crossed this man.
Certainly not when Amarante would number among them before the week was out.
Strange to shake the hand of the man who would soon attempt to kill her, but these were strange times. She didn’t bother to smile or weaken her grip, and neither did he. It made her like him a little.
Nicholai nodded at her luggage. “My man will see to it.”
No doubt after ensuring she wasn’t hauling in weapons. The Warren was a designated neutral space and Nicholai and his people enforced that to the point of death. Very few dared break the rules, because he made an example of anyone who crossed that line.
She couldn’t think too closely about that now. Amarante was here for one reason and one reason only. To close the circle of suffering her father began when he sent his only children to Camp Bueller at the tender ages of five and seven. He hadn’t expected them to survive. Surely he hadn’t expected them to flourish as they had, or for them to hunt him down.
“This way.”
She fell into step next to Nicholai easily. He didn’t bother to check his longer stride for her, which only added to her reluctant liking of him. Nicholai wasn’t a man who would pull his punches, and she respected that, even if they were destined to be at odds.
He led them through the entrance of the Warren. It looked much like any other high-end resort, including the one Amarante owned with her three siblings, though the decorations all reflected the Swiss location. Strong lines. Exposed dark wood beams and gleaming floors. It was a little cold and impersonal, but she liked it.
Nicholai didn’t speak until they’d left the main room behind and headed through the wide halls deeper into the building. “The summit with Zhao Fai begins at eight tomorrow. The schedule will be in your room.”
That set her back. “Schedule.”
“Yes, schedule.” He
turned left at a T in the hall. “There are several meals beyond the meetings themselves where he would like your attendance.”
She had to fight not to clench her jaw, to allow the news to roll over her and away. Forcing her to adhere to a schedule was a power play, and she would have organized something similar if she’d put this together. Her father wanted her dancing to his tune.
Very well.
She’d dance to his tune. Right up until the moment when she slipped in close and gutted him.
“Ms. Death.” Nicholai’s tone didn’t change when he used the name she went by to everyone but her family, but the small hairs on the back of her neck rose in response all the same. He stopped and looked at her. Had she thought his green eyes made him look young? Hardly. They were eerie, the kind of eyes one expected to see peering out at them from the shadows, the only warning before a predator appeared and ripped their throat out.
She kept her expression cool and unaffected. “Nicholai.”
“I don’t care whether you make polite with him or not. That’s not my problem. The only thing I do care about is preserving the sanctity of the Warren. You will not move against him or his people while you’re under this roof, nor while you’re traveling back to your home. Beyond that, carry on with your protracted vengeance to your heart’s delight, but if you violate the rules, I will string you up for everyone to see.” He slid his hands into his pockets, as relaxed as when he’d welcomed her ten minutes ago. “You have a reputation. I respect that. But while you’re on this property, I am the god everyone pays fealty to. Even you.”
She raised her brows. “A god, Nicholai? Someone is reaching high.”
“There’s no higher than me. Not here. Agree and stay. If you can’t abide by the rules, I’ll have the driver take you back to the airport.”
She had no intention of abiding by the rules, but Amarante knew better than to admit as much. Nicholai wouldn’t strike until she stepped out of line, so she had to ensure that when she did, it would count. She didn’t bother to smile. He’d see right through it. “I agree.”
He studied her for a long moment as if delving deeper into the two words for the truth beneath. He would find nothing. Amarante had learned to keep secrets far too young, when her and Ryu’s survival depended on it. She kept her brother safe with her ability to hide what she was thinking, and when Luca and Kenzie had come along, she kept them safe, too.
Finally, he nodded. “There are several restaurants on the property, and we are able to accommodate if what you’re craving isn’t on the menu.”
Layers beneath layers there. The Warren functioned much like the Island of Ys, though for very different purposes. Both kept their patrons content by providing a number of services both mundane and unorthodox. The Warren did it to keep people happy and tempers down. Amarante’s resort did it in order to cast a wide net for people who had useful information. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
Nicholai made several more turns. Amarante had a superior internal compass under normal circumstances, but they’d long since passed into the depths of the mountain and the twisting hallways played with her senses. She was sixty percent sure she could find her way back to the main entrance from here, but she preferred better odds when playing with her survival.
Her siblings would say she was suicidal for attending this summit with the intention of murdering her father. They were wrong. As long as she drew breath and her heart pumped blood through her veins, she had a chance to survive. She wouldn’t resign herself to the sweet sleep of death until the Reaper himself tore her soul from her body. No matter how insurmountable the odds seemed, there was always a new angle to consider.
She couldn’t bribe Nicholai. His very power was grounded in being neutral. The second he faltered in that, the people who moved through their world would tear him to pieces—if the former leader of the Warren didn’t do it first. For that same reason, she couldn’t threaten or bully him into letting her have her way. He was a clean slate as far as blackmail went. If Ryu couldn’t find dirt to use against him, it didn’t exist.
Still, there had to be another way.
They turned another corner and then another. Amarante opened her mouth to ask him why he was taking them in circles when a figure walked out of a door down the hall. Even knowing that she’d see him here, having Tristan appear in front of her like a phantom still shocked her enough that she almost missed a step.
He looked… good. Very, very good. The years since she’d seen him last had propelled him from a nearly-starving teenager to a man who was at home in his skin. His blond hair was cut short and serviceable and he moved in a smooth way she recognized. Her brother Luca moved like that. He’d gone from brawling for his life in Camp Bueller to more structured training once they had the safety to make that happen. Tristan didn’t have the same background as Luca, but he had the same skillset.
He watched them approach, his gray eyes holding nothing even as his mouth curved into a little smile. “Amarante.” He said her name like he was tasting it, tasting her.
You don’t get to call me that. She managed to keep the response behind a slow smile of her own. “Tristan.” She didn’t comment on the fact he’d tried to kidnap her younger brother less than twenty-four hours ago. It wouldn’t rile him, and it would only put her at a disadvantage to comment on it.
Nicholai gave him a look. “Where is your escort, Tristan?”
“Around.” He shrugged massive shoulders. His smile widened, inviting them in on a joke. “I felt like exploring.”
“The rules—”
“I’m not causing mischief, Nic. Just needed some time to myself.” Tristan laughed. “Take that stick out of your ass and live a little.”
Nicholai rolled his eyes. “You’re nothing but trouble.”
Alarm bells pealed through her head. Some of the coldness that coated Nicholai thawed in Tristan’s presence, which indicated that they were… friends? The allowance of a shortened name only reinforced that truth, along with the fact that Nicholai wasn’t immediately calling for his missing employee to resume escort duties. It all added up to give Tristan what equated to a home court advantage. He might not get away with breaking the most sacred rules, but he’d be able to move about without a chaperone to ensure good behavior.
She drew icy professionalism around her like a cloak and raised a single eyebrow. “Are we done here, Nic?”
“By all means.” He motioned her forward with a careless wave of his hand. Right in the direction of Tristan.
She had a moment of wondering if this was an ambush of some sort. Just because every single piece of evidence supported the theory that Nicholai was incorruptible didn’t mean it was the truth. After all, Amarante excelled at finding pressure points and using them to get people to act in her best interests. Tristan was just as good as she was. Better, in some cases.
She didn’t lift her chin or throw her shoulders back. She didn’t do anything but walk toward him in measured steps.
He raked her with his gaze, a heated slide she could feel through her clothing. “Nice suit.”
“Wish I could say the same.” He’d left his jacket somewhere, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his pale gray shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. It should have made him look relaxed and at ease. Even sloppy. Instead, he looked ready to get into trouble. Whether that trouble was brawling or women, she couldn’t begin to say.
She refused to contemplate either.
He grinned at her, all wicked charm and dangerous amusement. “Missed you, Te.”
“Don’t call me that.” She regretted the words as soon as they flew from her mouth. Point to Tristan for taking a grand total of two minutes to get under her skin. She forced her hands to relax, forced the tension from her shoulders, forced herself not to telegraph her desire to rake her nails across his ruggedly handsome face and scar him the same way he scarred her in places no eye could discern.
His grin widened, acknowledging her slip of control. Amarante tensed. A
smile from this man was like a predator showing its claws. She didn’t think he’d attack her right here in front of Nicholai, but the days when Amarante thought she could anticipate Tristan’s actions had passed right around the time he betrayed her.
Nicholai cleared his throat. “That’s enough of that.” He stepped between them. Even though he was several inches shorter and built much leaner than Tristan, he made an effective wall. Whatever passed between them in that moment was enough for Tristan to back up with his hands held up, his easy smile never faltering.
“Be seeing you, Te.”
She was stone. She would not react again. Doing so the first time had given him a weapon to use against her. Now, he’d say the nickname that only her family used over and over again, digging beneath her skin in an attempt to make her lose control. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t afford to. Fifteen years of searching, of building a small empire in her quest for justice, and she’d never been this close before.
Nicholai waited until Tristan rounded the corner and moved out of sight to turn back to her. “I owe you an apology.”
She slipped her hands into the pockets of her slacks, intentionally mirroring his relaxed pose. “Are you in a habit of making exceptions to the Warren’s rules for your friends?”
He didn’t exactly wince, but his jaw tightened. “It won’t happen again.”
