“I’m sure he’s just taking a break. He’ll be back,” he says.
“A break? Because of how hard they work you here?”
He looks over at the foreman. He’s stepped out of his trailer and is staring over at us. “It’s not that bad. We are lucky to have such kind employers.”
“But eighteen-hour shifts? That’s crazy!”
He shrugs. “I don’t feel tired, none of us do. Also, the food is very good. Things could be worse.”
I falter. I have nothing left to say that won’t raise suspicion. The same colleague that called him over tells him to go back to work.
“I have to go. Say hello to my sister, tell her… tell her I miss her,” he says sadly before walking away.
Tell her yourself, I want to say. But then I remember his crazy work shifts and I’m flooded with guilt.
I need to get out of here. The icy ground cracks beneath my sneakers as I hurry away from the building site, my steps quickening, my breath forming foggy puffs. I thought it was a good idea to come here in the day when I could be safe from Vamps, but it’s early afternoon now and it being winter the light is already fading. I have an hour until it’s dark, max.
Suddenly, I feel someone behind me, their steps crunching on the dry mud. Is it Mr. Porno Pig-man? Has he figured out I was lying to him? I don’t want to turn around and look guilty, so I keep walking faster, the steps behind me speeding up to match mine.
Fuck it! I’d prefer to look guilty than die!
This lot is huge, but I can see the exit in the distance. I take a freezing breath and break into a run, thankful I’ve worn sneakers. I bank left, then sprint all the way out of the lot to the main road. It’s busy with cars out here, which means I’m no longer alone, so I dare to look over my shoulder. But whoever was behind me has gone.
I bend at the waist, hands resting on my knees, and attempt to catch my breath. My frozen fingers fumble on the touchscreen of my phone as I struggle to order an Uber. Come on! The darker it gets, the less safe I am.
I glance behind me again at the entrance to the lot and my breath hitches. There’s a silhouette of someone watching me – someone tall, slim and muscular. Definitely not Pig-man.
My ride pulls up beside me and I throw myself into the back of the car.
Chapter Fourteen
I thought I’d warm up as soon as I got into my shitty apartment, but it’s just as cold inside as out. It started to snow heavily after I got into the cab, and in the twenty seconds it took to walk from the car to my apartment door and find my keys I’m already soaked through and my bones ache with cold. All I want to do is have a bath. My rented apartment may be disgusting, but at least there’s hot water.
I go to peel my wet clothes off my clammy skin, then stop. The buildings are so close together around here that I’m basically about to give my neighbors a free peep show. I switch off the lights and run the bath in semi-darkness. I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold before. My skin feels like marble as I pull off my icy underwear and wrap my bathrobe around myself, before heading back to the main room to check my phone.
I didn’t get much at KLV Construction, but at least I got some photos. I’m going to email them to Jackson and tell him everything I know so far - which isn’t all that much. I wish I’d managed to download those medical records. Something doesn’t add up, and I know it has something to do with the workers’ blood.
I pad silently across the dark living room. My windows are glowing as outside the snow has settled, making everything shine like cake covered in fondant. Moscow is definitely prettier in white. The only light shining into the room is yellow and sickly from the streetlight outside, casting eerie shadows on the ceiling.
Then I see him, a shadowy figure leaning against my wall.
“There you are,” he says, stepping into the light of the streetlamp.
It’s Konstantin.
He’s wearing an expensive-looking dark blue suit with a starched white collar, as always, every bit the gentleman...save for the hard glint in his eye, and the breaking and entering.
“How the fuck did you get inside my apartment?” I say, wrapping my bathrobe around me and somehow managing to keep my voice steady.
Konstantin raises his eyebrows and gives me a look as if to say ‘I’m a Vampire. What a stupid question.’
He steps closer. “Did you never wonder how I discovered your real name? You really should change your luggage labels so they match your fake passport.”
My first impulse is to run again. I turn to the front door, but he moves with incredible speed, a blur shooting past me. Next thing he’s leaning over me, his hand resting on the wall above my left shoulder. I’m trapped.
“You were at my construction site this afternoon,” he says. Not a question.
It was him. He was the one who followed me earlier as the sun was setting. But how? I didn’t think Vamps could go out until it was properly dark? I try and duck under his arm but he’s too fast, pushing me against the wall.
“It wasn’t me,” I say.
“Don’t lie, Saskia. I told you on your first day at the club to behave yourself.” His mouth is so close to my ear I can smell his cologne, his cheek smooth against mine. I open my mouth then shut it again. Konstantin isn’t stupid, I won’t get away with some bullshit lie - I will have to settle with a variation of the truth.
“I was trying to find my friend’s brother,” I mutter. “He works there.”
“What friend?” His arm is still resting on the wall behind me, and I’m keenly aware that all I’m wearing is a bathrobe tied loosely around the middle.
“Ansel,” I say. “One of your dancers. She’s my friend and she hasn’t seen her boyfriend in ages. She wondered if her brother had seen him, but she’s been too busy working, so I offered to talk to him.”
It’s so close to the truth even I’m forgetting the real reason I was there.
“You work for me,” he says, his breath warming my freezing neck. “Not my dancers. The site is off bounds. I need to trust you, Saskia.” He adds the last part with a growl, and I feel the tension in his body pressing against mine. My heart is racing. His body is blocking me and I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic. I have to get him off me, I have to say something to keep him on-side.
“You said you wanted me to look into the disappearances of your workers and... I wanted to look for clues. I just wanted to impress you.”
He steps back, pondering on my words, and that’s when I make a run for it. I don’t know where I think I’m going, or how I’ll get away from him, but I run through the dark as fast as I can towards the door - and straight into a coffee table.
“Fuck!” I cry out, falling in a heap at his feet.
Konstantin looks down at me, shaking his head pityingly.
“Let me help you,” he says, holding out his hand.
I bat it away. “Leave me alone!”
I cradle my ankle as the pain sweeps in, engulfing me in waves. I’m going to be sick. What the hell have I done to my foot? I can feel a lump already growing beneath my hand. I take a peek and groan. My ankle is a dark blue-green and my vision is beginning to blur.
Konstantin crouches beside me and I shuffle away. He’s looking at me intently, his eyes as black as his brother’s are white.
“I can help you,” he says gently. “I’m a dancer. I have seen many a foot injury in my time. I have treated many a ballerina.”
I think back to him dancing the first time we met. The way his shoulders rippled and his back arched, his face set like stone. So much beauty compressed into one cold psycho. He tentatively touches my ankle and I cry out in pain.
“I don’t want your help,” I spit. Who the fuck does he think he is, breaking into my apartment and scaring me, then intimidating me like this? I’ve gone through enough shit for this mission. I should at least feel safe in my own apartment.
There’s a rushing sound and I realize my bath is still running and it’s about to overflow. All I need
is to flood my crappy apartment on top of all this shit. Leaving Konstantin crouching on the floor I go to stand, but as soon as I put pressure on my foot the pain shoots up my leg and I collapse. He catches me, gathering me closer to where he’s kneeling on the ground and pulling my robe tighter around me. He keeps his hands at my collar, his thumb stroking the side of my neck.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says. No ping. He’s telling the truth. “Thank you for trying to help at the construction company. Did you find anything?”
I breathe deeply, trying to focus on his words and not the searing pain shooting up my leg.
“Nothing, except that your employees like working for you. They say you really look after them.”
In a flash, he turns off the bathwater and crouches beside me again.
“I look after those I care about,” he says. Gently he takes my chin between his finger and thumb and tips up my face so I’m looking up into his dark eyes again, his other hand resting on my throbbing ankle. “Let me look after you, Saskia.”
“Do strip club owners get first aid training? Where’s your certificate?”
A light smile flickers at his lips, then he opens his mouth a little. At first, I think he’s going to say something, but I quickly realize he’s making room for his fangs to grow. My heart flutters. I’ve never seen Vamp teeth up close like this before, and I’m transfixed. It’s not like the scary movies where they spring out like sharp daggers. Konstantin’s fangs are only about an inch longer than normal canines and just as wide. The only difference is that they are sharp. Sharp and thick enough to puncture flesh and leave two gaping holes large enough to feed from.
My breath quickens. Konstantin knows I’m a Witch. He’s not going to bite me, so what the hell is he doing?
He lets go of my chin and plunges his teeth into his wrist, ripping at it violently. Then he holds his bleeding arm out to me.
“Drink,” he says. He traces my lips with his finger, blood dripping down his arm and onto my white bathrobe. “It will heal you,” he adds, giving me a crooked smile.
Hesitantly I do as I’m told and part my lips, letting him bring his wrist to my mouth. I’ve never tasted Vampire blood before. I’m not going to pretend I’m not curious, even though the Blood Web is full of stories of vampires tricking humans into drinking their blood and then turning them without consent. I think twice and go to pull away, but the pain in my ankle has my entire body trembling and as soon as his blood touches my lips I know I have no choice.
Holding his arm in both of my hands I run my tongue against the gash at his wrist. I’m not sure if it’s me who groans or him.
Oh! Vampire blood tastes nothing like human or Witch blood. There’s no iron-like taste, instead, Konstantin’s blood is sweet and oaky like a mature dry sherry. I suck hungrily. I know I’m being obscene but suddenly I’m unable to stop.
“Easy now, sweetheart. That’s more than enough,” he purrs.
No. I need more, just a little drop more.
Konstantin is laughing as he pulls his arm away, the first time I’ve heard him laugh, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
I’m buzzing, every inch of me feels alive. Not only does my ankle no longer hurt but I feel like I’ve enjoyed a week in the Maldives then sniffed a line of Columbia’s finest. My bones are liquid and my head is floating, yet I’m also aching in places I shouldn’t be - all too aware that beneath my bathrobe I’m naked and my nipples are hard.
The way Konstantin is looking at me it’s clear he knows exactly what Vamp blood does to a Witch.
“A little bit of blood goes a long way,” he says with a wink, sending a bolt of electricity shooting right between my legs. “Better now?”
He’s so close that when he speaks it blows my hair out of my eyes. I’ve never noticed how full his lips are or how sharp his jaw. Even though his eyes are like blots of ink I can still see his pupils widen as they drink me in.
His teeth shrink back to normal and he straightens his tie. I want him to go. I want to have my bath. Except I can still feel his blood running through my veins, like hot water working its way through a block of ice. I’m burning up, and all I can think of is the touch of his skin against my lips and his blood sliding down my throat.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and pull my bathrobe tighter at my throat.
“Get dressed,” he says, walking over to my bed and throwing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt at me. “We’re going.”
I catch the clothes he’s thrown at me. Am I in trouble? “Where are we going?”
“Home,” he says. “You live with me now.”
When Konstantin mentioned going back home with him, I presumed he lived in an apartment. He doesn’t. The car, driven by a thick-necked man who hasn’t uttered a single word the entire journey, makes an abrupt stop outside a pair of wrought iron gates that swing effortlessly open.
Konstantin is sitting in the back of the car and he’s watching me as we follow a winding drive flanked by tall trees like a tunnel. I can tell he wants me to be impressed, and I am. Because his house is a mansion. I had no idea there were homes this grand just outside Moscow in a suburb called Rublyovka. We pass an ornate fountain and lush lawns surrounded by blue spruces and marble statues before reaching the house itself.
“You live here?” I breathe.
“I built it,” he says. “Lukka has the west wing and I have the east. There’s an apartment on the top floor you can stay in. We need to know where you are at all times. From now on you will leave for work with us and you will stay close to us. We have lots of enemies. I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”
They don’t want others getting to me? Or they don’t want me snooping into their business any further? I steal a glance at the silhouette of Konstantin’s face against the car window. He’s always so still. I wish I knew what he was thinking.
I sink into the leather seat and take a deep breath. Agreeing to live with the brothers is either the single most stupid thing I have ever done or proof that I take my job so seriously I’m prepared to climb into the beehive to get to the honey. We pull up outside an impressive winding staircase leading up to the house and he opens the car door for me. Without a word he takes my hand and I follow him up the stairs, across a large empty foyer sporting a sparkling chandelier similar to the one in the club, and up another flight of white marble stairs.
His hand is cool in mine, strong, but I have no idea where he’s taking me. Or, come to think of it, why the fuck he’s holding my hand. Is the bloodsucking thing like Vamp foreplay? Are we dating now or something?
I bite my lips together to stop myself from laughing nervously. This whole thing is freaking me out...and I’m not sure if even in a bad way.
Eventually, we come to a stop at the end of a plush hallway and he pushes open a set of heavy mahogany doors. We’re in a large room decorated in tones of duck-egg blue, cream, and gold. Everything is in the baroque style, mixed with modern amenities. A four-poster bed and a huge TV screen set into the wall, more double doors leading to what looks like a huge changing area, and at the far end of the room a round, sunken bath big enough for an entire football team. It’s overflowing with bubbles and there’s a bottle of champagne and strawberries beside it.
“Too much?” he asks, nodding at the bath. “I called ahead.”
When? He must have done it back at the other apartment while I was getting dressed.
“Is this my room?” I ask. It’s bigger than most apartments I’ve lived in.
He nods.
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it. I want to hug him. I want to do more than hug him.
What the hell is this freaky Stockholm syndrome shit? I’m thanking a violent, unpredictable Vampire who owns a strip joint and kills business associates. Maybe this is one of the weird side effects of Vamp blood consumption. That and the continuous ache between my legs.
I expect him to walk out of the room without another word. His usual cold unreadable self. I
nstead he’s looking at me as if I’m a tiny kitten that’s just turned up on his doorstep.
“Take tonight off,” he says.
He turns to leave and I don’t know what makes me do it, but I reach out for his arm and grab on to his sleeve. Maybe it’s because I can still taste the sweetness of his blood on my lips, but I want…I don’t know what I want.
He looks at me and I can’t breathe. His pupils are so big that his eyes are blacker than ever. I can practically feel the heat coming off him.
“Is there something you need?” he says huskily.
I shake my head and let go of his sleeve.
“What the fuck is going on?” says a voice from the doorway.
Lukka is standing there bare-chested in baggy white trousers that fall halfway down his ass, with at least five thick chains around his neck. He’s also wearing sunglasses – probably because of the glare of his gold jewelry.
“Nothing at all,” Konstantin replies. “Saskia lives here now. And you’re going to shut your troublesome mouth and leave her alone.”
Lukka frowns and Konstantin gives me a slow smile, but the hard glint is back in his eyes.
“Rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I can hear the brothers arguing all the way to the other side of their ostentatious home. And I just stand there, in the gold-trimmed bathroom of a pair of Russian Vampire brothers, wondering how the fuck I ended up here.
Chapter Fifteen
Konstantin’s hands are iron cuffs around my wrists. He pins me down, angling my hands backward into his expensive silken sheets. My chest is bare and I arch my back to meet him. He likes it. Running his fangs over the side of my ribs, he ends the motion with a kiss above my navel. I groan, arching further so my hot core is closer to him. He’s wearing nothing but ballet pants which do little to hide his desire. I wrap my legs around him, bringing him closer, wanting to feel that same hardness between my legs. With a firm palm, he pushes me back down.
“Not yet,” he says.
Vampires of Moscow (Blood Web Chronicles Book 1) Page 10
