Disbelief (Smirnov Bratva Book 2)

by T. L Smith

  He holds me with one hand, pushes my head down to his shoulder. “Bite, hard!”

  I do as he says, while the orgasm rips through me. I need to let it out, so I don’t think twice this time when my teeth sink severely into the opposite shoulder from the one I bit last time. He now moves me with his hips alone, pushing me up and down, then I feel him shake at the same time I’m coming down from it, and I know he came. He holds me for a second longer before he drops me on the bed lying down next to me, naked.

  It takes me longer than normal to catch my breath, to come back down from the high. When I do, I reach for him and feel warm liquid on his shoulder. I instantly sit up, scrambling my way closer to him. I climb onto his stomach, touching him all over his chest, then to both shoulders—one is bleeding, and the other is raised.

  “I did this?” I ask touching it softly, so as to not hurt him.

  “Yes,” he says.

  I cover my mouth with my hands, his hands don’t touch me as I sit on him.

  “Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me to stop?” When he doesn’t answer me at first, I hit his chest with my palm for an answer.

  “Because I like it.”

  That answer takes me aback. “You like to be hurt?” I ask him confused. “Or bleed?”

  “Both,” he tells me.

  I shake my head not understanding. “You want to do this to me?” I ask him. “When we have sex?”

  His hands comes up and touches my belly, he runs it along my skin. “I’ve wanted to, yes.”

  “Now you don’t?” I ask him because he’s not giving me straight answers.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  I hear him sigh. “Perfection shouldn’t be marred, not on the outside anyway.”

  I have no words in answer to that. None what-so-ever. I don’t understand what that even means. I want to ask, but I have a feeling I would only get a one-word answer. I lay my head on his chest above his heart. His hands move away from me, I feel them on my side but not moving. I reach for them and place them on my back, one by one.

  “It’s cuddling, I like to cuddle.”

  “You do this often?” he asks clearly interested.

  “Not often enough, though I do like it right here. You’re so warm, I could lay here ‘til I die.”

  His hand stills, it was moving slightly just circling one spot on my back, but now his body is rigid.

  “Do you want to die by my hand?”

  Now it’s my turn to go rigid. I don’t move, too afraid of what’s to come. I still don’t understand him.

  “No. Promise me you won’t hurt me again?”

  “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he replies then starts the motion again of circling my back.

  Chapter 11

  Death

  Sex with Pollie, it’s my new favorite hobby. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to let her go. I’ve fucked her twice this morning. My body proves it with the marks she’s left on my skin, each and every one I crave more than the next. I watch as she walks down the stairs fully dressed, her hair fans over her shoulders, the clothes what she wore from the day before. I locked us in my bedroom so I could have her body. She smiles when she walks down. I don’t know how, but she always seems to know where I am. It’s like she’s attuned to me, and that can’t happen. We are two opposites—she’s too good, and I’m too bad.

  “Can you call me a cab?” she asks in the sweetest possible voice I’ve ever heard.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to control myself from grabbing her and tying her to the bed, so she can never leave me.

  “I’ll drive you,” I manage to say instead.

  She nods her head, and I walk closer but not touching her. She puts out her hand, letting it dangle in front of me. She knows I want to take it. I like to take her hand in mine. It feels, odd, but yet good. I’m still trying to understand that emotion.

  I take it, and we walk to the car. She climbs in, and I watch her ass as she does, not even caring if she knows I’m leering.

  ****

  Her hand pauses on the door when we come to a stop, sunglasses cover half of her face, and she turns to lean toward me. Her hand touches my cheek, she comes in even closer, then her lips touch mine. I don’t move, and she soon realizes this and pulls away. Not saying goodbye as she gets out of the car, I drive a block down the street, enough so I can still see her. I watch as she stands on the sidewalk in front of her building, doing nothing at all. I sit there and wait and watch as she eventually walks inside, shutting the door behind her.

  “Death,” I hear coming through my car blue-tooth. I didn’t look when I answered, I was too busy watching her. Now I’m sitting, staring at an empty space where she once was. “You twisted homo bastard, answer me you fucktard.”

  I shake my head, his vocabulary sometimes amazes me.

  “I have a pineapple. You reckon I can stick that in your ass and make you call me daddy?” Anton's voice booms through. I hear background noise and his laugh as someone takes the phone away from him.

  “Death. Boy’s night. Be here at nine,” Kazier says hanging up. I hear the smack he delivers and Anton’s laughing voice in the background before the click.

  Boys’ night? What the actual fuck!

  I don’t do boys’ nights.

  I don’t do any nights unless it involves tearing someone apart.

  I drive straight back to my house, trying to push her from my mind, and the only thing that does that fully is being locked away in my basement. When I arrive I can smell her, her scent is everywhere. Like she’s never left. Like she’s been here for days on end.

  I walk over to the door that lets me lock everything away. It’s a heavy steel door, and it only unlocks with my hand. If I’m downstairs I usually just leave it unlocked. The only people that come here is Kazier and the body movers. But when I’m not, the door is locked, and no one can enter unless they have my hand.

  I walk down the stairs, darkness takes over. I switch on the red fluorescent light making everything take on a tinge of red. One table is bare when I walk down, the other holds a woman. She would have been beautiful alive, I would have paid to fuck her. Her tits are perfect, her hair is long and runs down the sides of her arm, and her body toned. I don’t care for the reasons behind their deaths. I have a job, I don’t ask questions I don’t want answers to. Bodies show up, and it’s my job to dispose of them.

  Kazier wants me to train someone else and consider being by his side more than I already am. I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t think I want to, I’d miss this too much. The way the saw slices through the first layer of skin, the way the arms drop from her body as soon as that final push is delivered through her bones, excites me. The next arm is exactly the same. Her hair lays there, looking naked now with no arms to hide the darkness that’s in it. I brush my fingers through it, to feel the softness. Ultimately, I compare it to Pollie’s, and it doesn’t measure up. The color is dark, compared to her lightness. It feels soft, whereas Pollie’s feels like silk.

  I make my first mistake—with Pollie on my mind—as I drop the arm in the barrel of acid. I’m not entirely covered, drops spring up and one lands on my shirt burning straight through to my skin. I immediately wipe it off, but the burning continues. I pull my shirt off, tossing it to the floor and race over to the clean-up station.

  The tattoo on my arm is now red and raw as I pour bleach over it and then scrub with soap and water. I look back to the dead woman wanting to cut her even more for making me make a mistake, for making me think of Pollie and comparing them. I flick the music off, turn the lights out, and go back upstairs.

  I check the time—almost eight. How do I lose so many hours? I don’t even know how time disappears on me.

  Usually, I’d walk in at night time, then walk out when the sun is rising in the morning on a busy night and have no idea where the time went.

  ****

  When I arrive at Kazier’s later on, Viktor answers
the door. He doesn’t speak as he pushes it open and walks in. I stand there for a second, hearing Anton’s laughter echo from inside and mentally prepare myself not to kill him. He is family after all. To some, that means a lot.

  Kazier’s voice booms out with my name. When I walk in, they’re on the back patio, the same one I wanted to cut Pollie’s throat on, the same one I almost died on afterward. Anton smiles holding up a bottle of vodka, Kazier waves me over. Between them, on the table, sits at least ten bottles of vodka, some opened, some still closed. I take a seat, and Kazier hands me a bottle, I look at it and shake my head. His eyebrows scrunch in question. He doesn’t ask, but Anton does instead.

  “You don’t want to drink with us, pretty boy?” he asks placing the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip then wiping the excess away with the back of his hand as he stares at me.

  “I don’t drink,” I reply. I’ve never taken a drink, I’ve never wanted to. I’ve got enough fucked morals, I don’t want to add addiction to my fucked up mess. His head drops down between his legs as he laughs, Viktor shakes his head.

  “Well, now’s the time you do. Sit down you hunk of junk.”

  I think I may have to drink, to be able to put up with Anton. Because killing him is not an option. Well, not right now anyway while everyone’s around. Kazier holds a bottle out to me, tips his head toward it and I take it.

  “Always vodka,” I say more to myself.

  “We are Russian, dickhead. It’s our drink,” Anton replies.

  I place the bottle to my lips, it burns when I take it down. Holding back the cough that wants to force its way up I take another, the more you drink, the more the burn disappears.

  “I wouldn’t recommend drinking the whole bottle on your first time,” Viktor says. I hold it up and see I’ve already drunk half of it, two long chugs and it’ll be gone.

  “Where’s your woman?” I ask looking around, I’m sure she wants to put another bullet in me. The first one didn’t finish me off.

  “With Pollie, girls’ night or some shit,” Kazier says placing the bottle to his lips. He starts shuffling a deck of cards. I stand and instantly feel the effects. Her name makes me want to leave, just the sound of it makes me want to go where she is. I sit back down, and no one says a word. Kazier eyes me quickly, then continues to shuffle.

  “Why are we here?” Viktor slaps my back with his hand, clearly having drunk too much.

  “Buck’s night,” he says nodding toward Kazier. Kazier doesn’t look up from the cards, that I’m sure have been well over-shuffled.

  “Why isn’t there hookers?” I ask looking around.

  “Because he doesn’t want to lose his cock,” Anton says laughing. A sparkle flickers in his eyes, then he jumps from his seat and runs inside, knocking the bottles of vodka over on the table, some smash onto the floor. Kazier manages to save two of them and shakes his head.

  “Look,” Anton says holding out a long-ass surgical needle. Everyones eyes go to him, all eyes wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. Then he pulls his shirt over his head and pinches one of his nipples between his fingers, he looks around, his eyes landing on me last.

  “You… you’re fucked up the most. Pierce this shit,” he says nodding toward his nipples.

  Maybe I’ve had too much to drink. Maybe I want to hurt him. Either way, I stand up and take the needle from his hand. He grabs one of the bottles of vodka that wasn’t smashed, takes a long drink of it then pours it over his nipple, then nods his head once to me. He’s about to say something when I grab hold of his nipple. I watch his mouth open then just before he says a word, I stab the needle straight through. His eyes go wide, then he screams. Very loudly.

  I step back, leaving the needle through his nipple then grab the bottle of vodka he had and pour it over. He screams again, this time pulling a hunting knife from his pocket and swinging it at me. It cuts my face, just barely, and I take a step further back.

  “Next one,” Viktor says holding up his bottle in salute. “This is the best night. You screamed like a bitch.” Viktor’s mouth twitches in amusement.

  “It hurts, you son of a bitch. Let me do you now, fucker.” He reaches down and pulls out another needle, waving it in Viktor’s face.

  “Do I look like a dickhead to you? You hold onto that title perfectly.”

  Anton’s eyes go to mine, then he points the needle at me. “You, you big ape, take your fucking shirt off.”

  I shrug my shoulders and do it. He smiles while holding the needle. He pinches my nipple, a tad bit too hard then I feel the slice as it punctures. When I look down the needle is hanging right through.

  “Fuck off! That stings like a bitch,” Anton says looking to my nipple then to his. He grabs the last needle and holds my other nipple.

  “Look at you two love birds, grabbing each other’s nipples and shit. Bonding. Aww…” Kazier laughs.

  “Your next, fuckhead,” Anton says then stabs the needle straight through my other nipple. He looks pissed when I don’t scream. I actually didn’t even feel that one. Maybe it has to do with the alcohol that I know as sure as shit, is coursing through my veins right now.

  “So, you both plan to have needles as your piercings? Did you even think this through?” Viktor asks looking at both of us one at a time.

  I look to Anton. It was, after all, his smart idea. One that I stupidly went along with.

  “Didn’t think that far ahead,” he says sitting back down.

  Kazier starts laughing hard, and Viktor joins in. Anton shrugs his shoulders and hands me the vodka. We both sit there topless, with needles in our nipples. Maybe it’s a new trend—a very stupid one at that.

  Chapter 12

  Pollie

  After Death had dropped me off, I felt empty, that there was something missing. I’ve never felt that way, and it made me think my feelings for him are growing stronger by each second. I didn’t expect to have such strong feelings for a man that can’t possess them. I’m not stupid and naïve. I know he’s a bad man, I know he does terrible things. I know he’s as cold as the ice in the Atlantic, I even know he tried to kill me. Though he somehow stopped himself from slicing my throat before Elina shot him. I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near him after that night, but I can feel he’s fighting something I know nothing about. I feel his tension each time I’m within his distance.

  He doesn’t tell me much, and what he does tell me is hard to decipher. I ended up going to work for practice after he left. With having nothing to do, and staying with him all night, I needed to work him out of my mind.

  When I arrive home Elina is on my doorstep, her arms wrap around me. I can’t return the favor as my hands are full—my violin in one hand, my cane in the other.

  “I’m having a small hen’s night, and I want you to come. You’re my best friend Pollie, and the only person I want there with me. The only problem is Kazier demanded I take Freya as well… they’re waiting at the local bar for us.”

  With a nod of my head, she follows me inside my home and soon after I can hear her ruffling through my closet. She walks to me and places clothes in my hands.

  “Wear this. It’s girls’ night, and you’re going to look fabulous.”

  “What is it?” I ask because I have no idea what she’s pulled out.

  “It’s just a skirt and shirt to show some boobies. You have beautiful tits,” she says cupping my breasts and pushing them up. I shoo her hand away and remove my clothes and begin to dress in the clothes she gave me. When I feel the length of the skirt, I gasp. This skirt was given as a gift from Elina ages ago. I never intended to wear it once I knew the length of it. Trust her to be the one to find it stashed in the back of the closet.

  “This is too short, Elina. I can’t wear this,” I say shaking my head. No way, I’m pretty sure if I bend over you’ll see everything.

  “Yes you can, and you will. My night. My choice. I choose what you wear.”

  I walk over to her and touch her hips, they’re bare. Her s
hirt sits just under her breasts, and her skirt is probably shorter than mine. I pull my hands away.

  “Are we hookers for the night? Is this a dress up evening?” I ask clearly confused.

  She laughs at me. “Hunny, this is how I always dress.”

  A part of me doesn’t want to believe that she does, though I have a feeling she’s not lying one bit. She sits me on the bed and starts playing with my hair, drawing it up and pulling parts out.

  “You have the most beautiful colored hair, Pollie. It’s blonde, but it looks like you have streaks of brown through it. It’s gorgeous.”

  I thank her, even though I’ve never seen color and have no real idea what she means. And when she’s finished, she doesn’t waste any time placing a glass of champagne in my hand.

  “Hold on… don’t you hate Freya?” I ask, remembering she’s coming too.

  “Yes, well… no. Not really.”

  “Okay… that makes perfect sense,” I say with a laugh.

  She pulls me by the hand telling me our ride is here, and the whole walk out to the car my hands are on my skirt trying to pull it down, just so I don’t flash anyone.

  ****

  “It’s not as loud as I thought it would be,” I say as we enter the bar. Elina has hold of my hand as she guides us to a table.

  “I wanted to have a night with you. So I prefer it to be not too loud, that way we can talk.”

  I nod my head in understanding. Sometimes I feel like a burden, and I realize the real reason she’s not going to a club is because we can hardly talk, as I won’t be able to hear her speak over the loud music. Then I remember it’s not because of my disability, she’d go to a club if that’s where she wanted to be. I try to not let my disability affect my life as much as possible. I try to take control, live as normally as possible.

  Some days are harder than others, but some are easier. With Death, they’re the easiest. I don’t know why yet, I can’t comprehend my feelings. I just know his emotions are strong and that I never have to second guess him. I always know where he is, always know what he wants. In some way or other, I can tell if he wants my touch, and for some reason it calms him. The only thing I still don’t know is the way he feels toward me. That’s an issue I haven’t yet conquered.