by Tillie Cole
“Luka, stop!” A distant yet familiar voice broke through into my stormy mind. I shook my head.
“Luka, put him down.” The voice was soothing. I knew that voice. That voice made my heart slow down. It calmed me … who … what…?
“Luka, lyubov moya. Come back to me. I’m here. Come back. Fight the memories. Fight them, just, come back.”
Ki … Kisa … my Kisa…? My eyes snapped shut at the soothing voice and new memories flashed through my mind … a boy and girl on a beach … kissing … making love … blue eyes … brown eyes … one soul … love lost … love found … a wedding … love … so much love …
Kisa.
Gasping, my eyes flew open, the free hand at my side shook and my skin was drenched with sweat. My other arm was elevated high, and when I followed the length of that arm, it was gripping a neck in an iron vise … the neck of a man, a man my head told me I knew.
Confused at what had happened, I stepped back, my hand releasing its grip on the man and he fell to the ground, wheezing, gasping, fighting for breath.
I staggered back farther until my back slammed against the opposite wall. Feet moved beside me, but I couldn’t look up. I was frozen on the floor, my knees tucking into my stomach and my head falling into my hands.
“Viktor? Viktor? Are you okay?” The female voice from before made me look up, and there she was, my Kisa, my solnyshko, bending down, running her hands over the man’s—
My stomach fell.
Viktor. Viktor, my trainer, the man who helped me to defeat Alik Durov.
Feeling as though the gulag tattoo across my chest, the bold and broad 818, was on fire, I watched Viktor’s eyes close and Kisa call to the byki for help.
Two of the Pakhan’s men ran in, and I watched them as if they were moving in slow motion. Kisa stepped back as they helped Viktor to his feet. The byki dragged him out in seconds and I felt a pain as sharp as a dagger’s strike slice through my stomach.
My fists clenched as I realized what I’d done. I’d almost killed Viktor.
The door softly clicked shut and I heard the locks turning, two iron bolts being slid in place to keep me inside.
Quiet footsteps came toward me and the soothing scent of sweet flowers washed over my body and filled my nose.
Solnyshko.
Gentle fingers suddenly ran over my hand. I flinched and dragged them away as I fought back my instinct to kill, to hurt, to maim, to slaughter.
“Luka, look at me,” Kisa ordered, but I kept my head low.
“Luka,” Kisa repeated in a sterner voice, “look up.”
Gritting my teeth, I looked up and my gaze found a set of perfect blue eyes.
Kisa. My wife.
Head tilted to the side, Kisa’s eyes filled with tears and she reached out her hand to touch my face. “Luka—”
“No!” I snarled. I sank back farther against the wall, swatting away her hand. “Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hurt you.”
Kisa reared back. I knew she was staring at me. I could feel her gaze burning through my skin. We sat in silence for what seemed like an age, my fists still taut, my blood still boiling with rage. Then, suddenly, Kisa stood, my muscles bracing for her to leave, my heart beating fast again at the thought of her leaving me alone.
But she didn’t walk away. She didn’t head for the door. She didn’t leave. She stayed silent, only a rustling of material to be heard.
I didn’t look up. Instead I focused on trying to calm the rage erupting from inside. But then a hand took mine and my palm met hot flesh.
Whipping up my head, I found Kisa kneeling beside me, the top of her sleeveless long black dress pulled down to her waist, her perfect tits on show. Her hand held mine over her bare breast and I tore my gaze away from the sight—the sight that was fucking destroying me—to meet her eyes. They were filled with a mixture of steely determination and love, fucking filled with nothing but love.
She bulldozed through all the barriers I had.
Taking control, Kisa squeezed my hand tighter around her tit, my cock hardening at the feel of my woman under my palm. Shifting her legs, Kisa released her hold on my hand, her eyes telling me not to move it from her tit, and lifted up her dress from the bottom.
My breathing quickened as her lace panties came into view, and then I fucking lost all anger when she untied the lace bows at the side, the panties falling to the floor.
I was struck mute as my wife—my fucking beautiful wife—straddled my thighs, her bare pussy dragging down my stomach.
My hand on her warm breast tightened as my solid dick pushed against my pants. Kisa’s breathing hitched as her clit ran down my torso and her mouth lowered to my ear. “I love you, baby. I have you. You’re okay. I’m here.…”
My eyelids shut at the relief her words brought, and just like that, I was calmed.
“Kisa…,” I whispered in response, my words clogging my throat.
Kisa pressed a finger over my lips. “Shh, lyubov moya, just … just … love me,” she said almost silently. “Let me love you with everything I have. Let me make you feel safe, with me. Be my Luka, the boy whose soul matches mine.”
And she did. I made love to her on the locker room floor, and she brought me back to myself. She chased away the demons and pain.
As we both fought for breath in the aftermath, I reached up, never moving my gaze from hers, and said, “I’m … I’m sorry.”
Kisa’s face softened. “Never be sorry. You’re my husband, my heart, my soul.”
The reality of what had just happened began to hit home and I shut my eyes in embarrassment. Kisa must have felt me tense as she tensed, too. Inhaling a shaky breath, she whispered, “I love you so much, Luka. Do you know that?”
The hurt and sadness in her voice was sharper than any weapon I’ve taken into the cage.
“Luka?” Kisa probed my silence and slowly drew back her head to look at me. Her eyes were filled with tears again. “I love you.”
Kisa placed her finger under my chin and forced my head up. “Talk to me. Let me in.” Her eyelids fluttered, chasing away tears. She sniffed back her cries and wiped at her eyes. “What happened tonight? What happened with Viktor? Why did you run from Papa and Ivan? You neglected your duty to the Bratva.”
Feeling drained, I exhaled a shuddering breath.
As more seconds passed by, I heard Kisa sigh in frustration and her hands cupped my cheeks. “Look at me, Luka.”
Reluctantly, I forced my gaze up and fixed my attention on her face, she was so fucking beautiful. Taking her hand, she reached down to my wedding ring, and lifted it to my face. “You see this? We’re married. We vowed under God and in front of our families to be there for each other, for better or for worse.” She then took my hand and, holding my index finger, ran it over my left eye. “We were made for each other. That means sharing your pain, telling me when and why you’re unhappy.”
The sadness on Kisa’s face was too much. Squeezing our joined hands, I brought them to my lips and kissed the back of her hand. “I’m happy with you. I…” I took a deep breath and added, “I never knew I could be happy before you.”
Kisa’s tears splashed onto her bare chest. “Solnyshko, don’t cry,” I rasped out.
“But you’re not happy. I hold you when you sleep. I see you when you pace, dark thoughts plaguing your mind.” Kisa kissed my cheek and gazed into my eyes. “You’re getting worse, lyubov moya. Something’s on your mind.” A quiet sob slipped from her throat and I instinctively pulled her into my chest.
“Don’t cry,” I begged in a cracked voice. “I can’t see you cry.”
“Then tell me what you see in your mind. Tell me what is haunting you from being happy in our new life?”
“362,” I pushed out. “I promised vengeance on those who wronged him. On those who put him in the gulag.” My fists clenched behind Kisa’s back. My hands were beginning to shake. The frustration, the anger was coming back as I pictured 362’s bloodied dead face.
/> Kisa stiffened in my arms. “Our papas are searching for the men responsible.”
“It’s been too long,” I said, harsher than I intended to.
“I know,” Kisa said quietly.
“I have to do this. I have to make it right.” I tensed, knowing what I was about to say. “I have to kill them. I have to, to move on.”
Kisa froze in my arms. I knew she hated the idea of me killing again, but she would never understand what 362 had done for me.
“I don’t even know his name. He died as a number. A fucking slave. His grave has no name.” I inhaled through my nostrils thinking of the unmarked headstone. “The man that kept me alive as a gulag child, the man that taught me how to survive and freed me as a man. He was my brother and he has no name in death.” My fists shook with the fire igniting in my stomach. “He has no honor. He lost it when he died under my ’duster’s spiked blades. I am the one he asked to restore that for him. Me. No one else.”
Kisa pulled back without saying a word, but I could see the understanding in her eyes. Her gaze traced down to my chest and over to my right arm. Her fingers lifted and ran over my skin. “Your arm needs cleaning.”
I glanced down and saw my skin was ripped from Viktor’s fingernails, drying blood covering most of my scarred skin. My eyebrows pulled down and I asked, “Was he hurt bad?”
Kisa’s roaming finger stopped. “He’ll be okay.”
My head lowered and Kisa wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, her body flush against mine. Unclenching my fists and exhaling a long sigh, I wrapped my arms around her bare back, kissing along her slim neck.
“We’ll find out who 362’s captors are, Luka. I promise. We’ll figure out a way for you to live, out here on the outside. How to make you into the best knayz you can be.”
Chapter Two
Talia
I usually avoided this place like the plague. It smelled of death. That was the only way I could explain it. The scents of blood, sweat and dead animals permeated every inch of this underground hell making it almost impossible to breath in the thick stagnant air.
Straightening my shoulders, I walked through the training gym of the Dungeon, forcing myself to nod politely at the new fighters’ trainers and sponsors filling up every inch of spare space. Well, I say “fighters.” They were mostly rapists, murderers, and generally just sick motherfuckers used by various mobs and career criminals to make a quick buck. No one would miss them if they died in the ring. In fact, it would be a blessing to society, in my opinion.
I didn’t mind my job. I was good at it. I was the sponsor recruiter for the Dungeon. My duty was securing the sponsors, arranging collections on gambling debts and finding only the best fighters for our enterprise. And I never failed to deliver excellent fighters, season after season. That didn’t mean the sight of these men didn’t make my skin crawl. I generally worked from home, thank God. Being in this place of death day by day would drive me insane. I had no idea how Kisa did it. I sighed in relief that I was finally getting a break. I was getting to leave Brooklyn for the next couple of months. I was using my long overdue vacation days to just check out of this life for a short reprieve.
After everything that had happened over the last year I needed a breather. I needed to not be Talia Tolstaia, the great Ivan Tolstoi’s daughter, just for a while. I needed to be somewhere new. I just hoped my father wasn’t going to flip his shit when I told him I was going.
Heading into Kisa’s office, I walked through, shutting the door behind me. Kisa was sitting behind her desk typing away on her computer. “Hey, Kisa,” I called, and moved to sit in the chair in front of her.
Kisa lifted her head from her work and I frowned. “You okay? You look kind of green,” I said, seeing Kisa run her hand over her clammy head.
She batted her hand in front of her face. “I’m good, Tal. Just feel like I may be coming down with something.”
“You sure? Seems you’ve been like this a while,” I questioned.
Kisa threw me her usual bright smile. “Yeah, honest.”
Lifting off my chair, I took the register of new fighters and their sponsors for the Dungeon’s fighting ring and laid them on her desk. “Here’s all the information you’ll need while I’m gone. If you need anything else, I’ll only be a phone call or an e-mail away.”
Kisa took the folder and placed it in a draw before leaning back in her chair. “Thanks, Tal.” Her eyes dropped to the table, then she looked at me again. “I wish you weren’t going. I know you’ll only be a couple of hours away, and Christ knows you deserve the rest, but I hate the thought of not seeing you every day. It’ll be weird.”
Moving around the room to drop my ass to the edge of her desk, I winked playfully. “It’s my winning personality, Kisa. You’re addicted to me.”
Kisa laughed and patted my knee. “I am. There hasn’t been a vacation in our lives that we haven’t gone on together.”
My smile faded and I squeezed her hand on my knee. “I know, dorogaya moya. But after this past year—Luka coming home, my parents coming to terms with the fact their son was turned into a straight-up killer, and now the recent news that the Jakhua Georgian’s are back in Brooklyn to probably start a war with us, I just need a fucking time-out from it all, you know?”
Kisa exhaled a long breath and nodded her head. “I know what you mean. It’s been intense.” Kisa glanced away and I caught her blue eyes shimmering.
Leaning forward, I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Kisa didn’t move for a few seconds, but then looked to me again. “Luka’s been having nightmares again. He’s not in a good place lately, Tal. I don’t know what to do.”
My stomach tensed. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”
Kisa got to her feet and stood before me, throwing me a dismissive smile. “Nothing for you to worry about.” I went to argue that fact, but Kisa pulled me to my feet and wrapped me in her arms. “Go on your break, Tal, relax, find your happiness again, and come back refreshed. You never know, by the time you return everything might be back to normal—the Jakhua’s may be dead and buried, Luka may have made a full recovery, everything swimming along nicely.”
I hugged Kisa back and, after a few seconds, she pulled away. Her lips pulled into a wry smile. “One can dream, hey? One thing’s for sure, there’s never a dull moment in the wonderful world of Volkov!”
“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a laugh. Then I hesitated knowing there was something more she wasn’t telling me. She was acting weird.
Kisa rolled her eyes at me as I stared. “Tal, go. I’ve got everything covered here.”
I headed to the door, but stopped to say, “Do you think Luka will be okay?”
Kisa wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m sure he will. I’ve left him in bed today. He had a rough night. I’m going to meet with our fathers this afternoon to see if they can help him.”
I frowned. “What needs to be done? You’re being very vague, Kisa.”
Kisa gave me a tired smirk. “Just something from his gulag days, a piece of information that’s been playing on Luka’s mind. I’m hoping our fathers can shed some light on it. It’s what Luka needs to finally embrace his training as the future pakhan. I think my father’s getting antsy about how distracted Luka is. I think he’s doubting whether he has what it takes to lead the brotherhood one day.”
Walking back to Kisa one last time, my stomach rolling at yet another arising issue my brother now had to overcome, I gave her a tight hug and kissed her cheek. “Anytime you need me, you call. And if you need a break yourself come to see me. You shouldn’t have to take all of this on either. It’s starting to make you ill.” Kisa tensed in my arms. “Promise me, Kisa,” I pushed.
She nodded against my shoulder. “I promise, Tal. And … thank you,” she whispered.
With both hands on her shoulders, I pushed her back to stare her straight in the eyes. “You’re my sister, Kisa. That was true even before you married my brot
her. It’s been me and you, always. Sisters ‘til the end.”
Kisa wiped a stray tear that had fallen and she waved her hands at me in a shooing motion. “Go. Get on the road to avoid traffic. Rest. Eat lots of chocolate and, most importantly, have some fun. We don’t have enough fun round these parts.”
I let out a single laugh. “I’ve got to tell my father I’m off first. My mama knows the score, we’ve planned it together, but we figured suddenly surprising my father that I’m taking a break would go over better than giving him time to talk me out of it. You know he’ll try and guilt me into staying.”
Kisa chuckled and said, “I’ve always envied you, Tal. You do what you want, when you want. I could never do that. I was too busy trying to be the perfect Russian daughter.” She huffed to herself. “For all the damn good it did me.”
I sobered at Kisa’s compliment, and something down deep caused me to confess, “I wouldn’t envy me too much, Kisa. I may live on my own terms more than most in this life, but you’ve got the one thing I’d give anything to have. Sacrifice anything to have.”
“What’s that?” Kisa asked, her face now confused.
I fought a lump in my throat. “Love. You’ve got someone who adores you probably more than you do him. I’m on my own, have always been on my own. I’d give anything to have that soul-shattering type of love. But how that’ll happen in this life is beyond me. Who the hell’s going to date the daughter of a Bratva boss?”
Kisa’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Tal—”
I held up my hand. “Shit. I’m talking nonsense.” I paused, then forced a smile. “I’d better go, Kisa. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
I left the office before Kisa could say anything more, all the time rubbing the dull ache of loneliness in my chest that my little confession had brought on.
I needed this break.
I’d earned this break.
I wanted to be normal.
I wanted to be plain old normal Talia from Brooklyn, if only for a little while.
