by K. Webster
Leonid is a proud man, but he’s a fucking hypocrite. All anyone has heard from him this past week is how amazing his daughter is and how proud he is of her and how he always knew she was the female to break the mold. Now, she’s good enough for him. He doesn’t mention how he begged my father to take her in because of the shame she brought upon his name.
“Time to go, boys.”
After we collect an unusually quiet Vika, we all ride together across the city. We’re given separate parking access at the Volkov manor considering our rank within our depraved world. Hundreds of cars line the property, and the snow-covered land is lit up with giant tents. Inside, they will be fancy as fuck, no expense spared, and fit to serve kings. The real kings, though, will dine at the main house. First Families only. Until dinner time, we’ll be expected to schmooze and talk to the people who are beneath us. I hate this shit.
I just want to talk to her.
When we pull up under a covered parkway, one of the Volkov staff members opens my door. I stalk inside the house and hand off my coat to reception. Then, I seek out my prize. Men and women try to stop me along the way to congratulate me on securing the Baskin girl. I nod politely and leave my brother and father to bask in the glory.
“Ven,” a deep voice greets.
I turn, finding a smirking Vas leaning against a pillar. His dark brown hair has been puffed and slicked back with gel in one of those styles only the good looking can pull off. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been worried and angry. Now, he’s the smug bastard I know so well.
“Vas,” I greet, offering my hand.
He shakes it, then crosses his arms over his chest. “Enjoying the spoils of your reward? They all got the show they wanted with Kira. Put a fuck-ton of money into your pocket.”
I grunt in response, my eyes tracking the room of men and women dressed in their finest black-tie attire. “Just another year being a Vetrov. How does it feel to be a Volkov, and being attached to the victor of The Games?”
His eyes twinkle with wickedness. “Pretty fucking awesome.”
“And Diana? How is she?”
He clenches his jaw and looks away. “She’s fine.”
I want to throttle him for such a vague answer. “Her wounds—”
“I said she’s fine,” he snaps. Then, he tugs at his bowtie and glances past me. “Ah, look. The Vasilievs decided to show up.”
Turning, I notice Vlad and Irina first. He’s dressed like the slick motherfucker he always is, but Irina looks especially beautiful. Her blonde hair has been curled into waves that hang over her breasts, which are bigger from pregnancy. The black dress she wears hugs her body and shows off her growing stomach. Vlad, not a man to show his cards too often, has his arm wrapped around her waist possessively. His stare is fierce, as if daring anyone to look at her wrong or face a V Games round two right here at the celebratory party. She’s his weakness. And I get that, because her sister is mine.
“Unbelievable,” Vas hisses.
It doesn’t take much to shock me, but when I see Yuri, I’m stunned fucking speechless. The old man is dapper as ever in a three-piece suit, looking powerful. He’s always one to appear as though he runs this shit, but it’s what he has in his grip that has me surprised.
A leash.
Shiny, encrusted with diamonds.
Attached to the neck of a naked young woman. Her hair has been pulled neatly into two brown pigtails and her face has been painted with makeup. The only thing she wears are black gloves and a fucking furry tail.
“Is that a butt plug?” I ask Vas.
When I glance at him, his face is laser focused on Yuri. His fists are clenched and his face is turning purple with rage. He starts forward, but I grip his arm, stopping him.
“Whatever you’re about to do,” I hiss under my breath, “don’t. Not here.”
He glares at me, but gives me a clipped nod. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker one day.”
I release him and slap his back. “We’re smarter than them,” I tell him, referring to our fathers. “Remember that.”
He pulls away from me, and I’m left staring at Yuri as he parades his pet around the dinner like this is normal. It’s weird as fuck, but our fathers keep getting bolder and bolder in their old age. As if they know they’ll kick the bucket at any time and want to go out with a bang. When cheers erupt, I draw my attention to the stairs of the Volkov home. The same stairs I followed Diana up to her room all those years ago.
But the woman who stands at the top of the stairs is no teen girl. No, a queen stares down at her people. Regal. Mesmerizingly beautiful. Powerful. She’s dressed in a daring, fitted, floor-length red sequin gown. Its V-neck plunges low on her chest, revealing her ample tits for everyone to see. My dick is hard, along with every other man with a working cock in this room. She wears silky black gloves that go to her elbows. Her dark auburn hair has been twisted into an up-do, showing off her long, elegant neck. It’s as though someone washed the horrors from The Games right from her flesh. No blood. No bruises. Perfection. I know, after all she went through, she’s still healing, but she’s somehow managed to cover it with makeup.
She steps down the first step, and her cream-colored thigh peeks out of the slit in her dress. People gasp and chat happily over how wonderful she is. A week ago, they were betting against her and plotting her death.
She’s very much alive.
The glittery necklace she wears around her neck sparkles and catches the overhead light. I don’t miss the fact that it’s one I gave to her when we were together. She may hate the ground I stand on, but she’s always been sentimental in the ways that count. When she turns her head, I get a glimpse of a ruby-studded peregrine falcon hairpin attached to her hair on the side of her head.
Her crown.
If she’d open up to me, I’d bow down at her feet right now and worship the fuck out of her. Something tells me it won’t be that easy. Not after everything this powerhouse has been through. It’ll be like my stint in The Games. Everything rides on my ability to be the victor.
She makes her way down the stairs and begins working the room. Like she used to before everything blew up with Anton and Vlad. She’s in her element. Nothing will stop her. This woman will bring all of Russia to their knees—and soon. It’s in the sharp, unforgiving glint in her bright blue eyes.
I just want to be the man at her side, kicking ass every step of the way alongside her.
For hours, I watch her mingle and smile and laugh. I watch them fawn over her and praise her. I watch them undeservingly take up her precious time—time that would be better spent with me. When I notice her speaking to a runt from one of the Second Families, I make my move.
“Get lost,” I tell the teenage boy who can’t stop looking at her tits.
He starts to complain, but thinks wisely before doing so. The moment he’s gone, I stare into Diana’s intense gaze.
“Diana,” I greet.
Her plump, blood-red lips purse into a slight frown. “Veniamin.”
“Congratulations on your victory,” I say lowly, extending my hand.
She tenses, but decides looking the part is more important than blowing me off in front of everyone. Her dainty gloved hand that was slaughtering men and women left and right a week ago gets captured in my strong grip. I cover our conjoined hands with my left one and don’t let her go.
“You were brilliant.” My words are barely a whisper.
She tries to tug her hand away, but I’m stronger. Her eyes scan the room and lock on my father. There’s a flash of something in her gaze, but I’m not sure if it’s fear or fury. All it does is make me draw her closer to me. Her free hand grips my shoulder to keep from falling against my chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”
I chuckle, but it’s dark. “Not until we talk.”
“You’re being difficult,” she grits out.
“So are you.”
Her blue eyes flare with fury. “Let me go.”
&nbs
p; “Only if you promise to take a walk with me.”
“I can’t.” She looks back in the direction of my father, who stares directly back at us.
“Don’t worry about him,” I say with conviction. “You never have to worry about him again, Diana.” I fucking mean it this time. I’d kill him in front of everyone if he tried to hurt her.
“You’re right. I don’t have to worry about him. Not anymore. Five minutes,” she snaps. “Let’s go.”
With my eyes on hers, I bring our hands up. Her gaze falls to my left hand on top. The fire in her glare is snuffed out as she uses that sharp focus she’s known for. So often, when in bed, she never saw it, and I thought it was a pussy move to point it out. One day, I knew she’d see and the time would be right.
“The roses,” she mutters, her brows furling together. Her hand leaves my shoulder, and her gloved fingertip traces the hidden D in the roses and vines on my thumb. And then the I on my pointer. A, N, and A are on the remaining fingers. “Presumptuous, don’t you think?” she whispers, her words not as venomous as she probably intended.
“I’ve had this tattooed on my hand since I was twenty years old, Diana. The same day I got POWER tattooed on the other hand. They’re one in the same for me.”
She swallows and hardens her stare. Lifting her chin, she says, “The talk. Five minutes.”
I kiss the back of her hand, and then start walking. I don’t let go of her grip. Together, our hands conjoined, I walk her through the throngs of people, showing everyone who she belongs to. Even if she hasn’t come to terms with it yet. She may be a powerhouse, but she needs the dominance—the rough and fierce claim of a lover. Of a man. She needs me. I should have stayed in the hospital room and refused to leave. Shown her I won’t run. That I won’t abandon her. I won’t falter when tested. I failed her. But never again. I’ll give her the dark side of me she craves. Darkness and light, hard and soft—I’ll give her it all.
The first door we come to, I push through and close it behind us. It’s a small powder room. Nowhere for her to run. Good.
“Talk, Ven,” she says coolly.
I crowd her, inhaling her sweet floral scent. She steps back, but her ass hits the wall. There really isn’t anywhere for her to go, and in reality, she doesn’t want to run anywhere. Her eyes are on fire, because no matter how much time has passed since I’ve been inside her, she can still feel me there, what it was like when it was just us in the moment. Gently, I wrap my hand around her throat and press my forehead to hers. She sucks in a sharp breath.
“Stop.”
I pull back and regard her warring expression. Half of her reacts to my nearness and the familiarity of it while the other half is defensive and afraid. Running my thumb along the side of her throat, I caress her.
“I’ve given you time,” I tell her. “Time is up.”
She glowers up at me. “We aren’t happening. We can’t.”
“Yes, we are.”
When she starts to move, I tighten my grip on her throat and keep her in place. My lips pepper soft kisses on her pretty face. She winces when I kiss her nose. I remember the way she was smashed against that glass. It no doubt still hurts. Softly, I kiss away the pain. Her pulse beneath my thumb is erratic and thundering away. I slide my other hand to her hip.
“Face it, moya roza,” I rumble. “We’re meant to rule this world together. It was fated long before our fathers decided shit. We made that decision. Maybe it was a silent one, but a decision nonetheless. The moment you kissed me in that hall when you were sixteen, we’ve been linked. I knew it, and I waited until you were ready.”
“I’ll never be ready,” she chokes out.
“You will,” I growl, and nip at her plump bottom lip. “And when I think you’re ready, I’ll be there for you.”
She shoves at me, but I press my hips against hers, locking her in against the wall. A soft moan escapes her, spurring me on. I slide my palm up her throat to her jaw and angle her face so I can kiss her. She parts her lips, and I don’t waste time. I kiss her perfect mouth. I taste her fucking soul.
Her tongue duels with mine, two equals trying to establish dominance. Neither of us win. We’re outmatched by the other, and it’s goddamn beautiful. I can tell the moment she gives in because her body relaxes, her palms land on my chest, and then she’s greedily feeling me. I kiss her with promise. With my lips and tongue, I vow to her I’ll look after her.
“Ven…” My name moaned on her lips is enough to nearly have me dropping to my knees. But then the spell would be broken.
I kiss her deeper, silencing her.
Her palms flutter up my neck to my jaw. The moment her hands touch my beard, she stiffens. I nearly groan in defeat, knowing it’s over.
“Vetrov,” she hisses, her word spoken in disgust.
I pull away to stare at her furious face. “I’m not him.” I kiss her mouth again, even though she looks seconds from gutting me.
“But you’re part of him.” She swallows, a sadness shadowing her features and draining her fury from moments before.
“That’s not fair,” I grunt, resting my head against hers.
“What he did to me…” She shudders, her hand resting over her flat stomach.
“I didn’t know, Diana. God, I didn’t fucking know. I thought you fell. I lost everything that night too.” I place my hand over hers, resting on her stomach, pain slicing through me. “You told me that baby was mine.”
She shakes her head, pushing me back. “I didn’t say those words, Ven. You just assumed and I allowed you to. I was wrong for that, I know.” Her voice gains volume. “But look where I was and the reasons why I was there.” She’s animated with her hands, as if she can implore me to understand with the gesturing alone. “I was just discarded after being sent off to marry someone I didn’t love. I was just supposed to fall in line and do as I was told, and when I broke the rules, my life became dirt. Everything I’d worked to become, every dream I had, was washed away.” Tears light her eyes as fire ignites in her veins. “You didn’t treat me like them, like they expected you to. I never thought you’d want me after that happened, and there you were, healing me, accepting me, building me up when I felt so small and worthless,” she weeps.
I want to wrap her in the safety of my arms, but I know she’s not done and she needs to get this out.
She sniffles and swipes at a stray tear. “I had hope for the first time in my life, and then I found out I was pregnant. It was too late. I was already in too deep. You were rooted inside me, Ven. The thought of losing you after never really having anything was just…”
I pull her into my arms, but she pushes against my chest.
“I’m sorry for my deceit.” She looks me dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. That was what I wanted to avoid.”
“You could have told me. I would have gotten over it. Why did you push me away?” I beg to know.
The lines disappear across her brow, and she straightens, smoothing down her dress.
“Because your bastard father would rather another son in the dirt than on the arm of the shamed,” she states, matter of fact.
Motherfucker.
“He will pay for everything he did to you. Mark my words,” I vow. “We’ll make him pay. I swear it.”
Her anger melts away, and she lifts her chin. She gives me a small push, until my back is pressed against the other wall. A smile tugs at her lips, and deviance glimmers in her eyes as she straightens my bowtie.
“I know, Veniamin. Believe me, I know.”
She starts to pull away, but I clutch both her hips.
“Diana…” I frown at her. “What do you mean?”
“When you live among the wolves,” she tells me, tugging gently on my beard, “you learn to play like one.”
With that, she rushes from the powder room, leaving me with confusion and a hard-on. I don’t have time to process her words because Ruslan appears as I exit after her.
“Dinner is starting,
” he says, his grip tight on Vika’s arm.
She winces, but doesn’t pull away. Fire blazes in her amber orbs, reminding me very much of Vlad. I’d seen that look in his eyes when I trained him for The Games. How he’d get pissed from getting his ass kicked over and over by me. Then, he’d just lose it. Go fucking mad. Vika harbors the same rage. It’s scratching at the surface. Ruslan deserves the claws.
I follow them to the dining room set up for First Families only. As a matter of respect, Leonid Volkov has given his table head position up to my father. Yuri always heads the celebratory dinners, since it’s his whole shitshow, but despite a Volkov winning, Leonid knows, financially speaking, the Vetrovs outrank them. Father takes his seat at the head of one end and starts harassing one of the female servants. I locate Diana and escort her to sit beside me. She sits, without argument, and I take my seat between her and my father. Rus and Vika sit in front of us, with Vas to Vika’s left. Irina sits beside Vas, and Vlad is between her and Yuri, sitting at the far end. Across from Irina is Leonid, and Iosif and Ivan Voskoboynikov. Both of the Voskoboynikovs wear somber expressions for a multitude of reasons. They lost their beloved son and brother, and are about to lose their place at this table.
Yuri snaps his fingers, and his little pet comes crawling from the corner of the room to sit on the floor beside him. Vas’s fierce expression is barely held at bay. Thankfully, he has Irina to calm him. She gives him a soft smile and mouths something to him. He relaxes and nods at his sister.
While Yuri and my father take turns congratulating everyone on this year’s successful V Games, I lean over and whisper to Diana. “I meant what I said.”
She turns her head and smiles at me. Cold. Calculating. Fucking gorgeous. “And I meant what I said.”
Across the table, Vika remains silent, her evil eyes glimmering. Ruslan gropes her under the table and nips at her neck, but she doesn’t act disgusted per usual. Her eyes are on Diana’s. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this bitch is into her.
