Vampires of Moscow (Blood Web Chronicles Book 1)

by Caedis Knight

  “Yeah. Kind of. At least when I’m a Vampire I’ll be able to be myself without the risk of being killed,” he replies.

  I instantly feel bad for asking. He knocks back the glass of champagne in one gulp and I pour him another.

  “What’s it like working for your father?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I’ve been part of his shit all my life. My mother died when I was a baby. I don’t know. Work is work.”

  Well, that doesn’t sound very gangster-like to me. And Stepan definitely doesn’t come across like a cold-blooded body drainer.

  “What’s your job exactly?” I ask.

  “Shipping. My father’s company moves cargo. I have no idea what we’re doing in this club, to be honest. We’re not half as shady as most of the people who come here. I wanted to stay home and watch reruns of Glee.”

  We laugh together and I pour him a third glass. He’s not noticed that I haven’t drunk a drop yet. Plus, he’s telling the truth. About everything.

  “The way Konstantin talks about you all, I figured you were all tough guys. His main competitors.”

  Stepan makes a face. “You think we’d mess with the Volkov brothers? You’ve got to be kidding me. My father is good at what he does, even though the company he keeps is questionable, but fucking with the Volkovs is a death sentence - no matter how cute Konstantin’s butt is in those tight suits he wears. Don’t tell him I said that. But we work with them, not against them.”

  Even a human would know he’s telling the truth. And yeah, he’s not the only one to have noticed the ballerina butt on Konstantin.

  “I like you, Stepan,” I say, meaning it. “I bet if we went out we’d have more fun than you’d have hanging out with those scary friends of your dad’s.”

  “They aren’t anyone’s friends. They’re double-crossing pieces of shit. I have no idea why my father trusts them with our business. It pains me to know that my father being a Vamp means I’ll never be able to take over his business. That we’re all stuck together like this forever.” He swigs the dregs of champagne from his glass and frowns as he pours the last drop out of the bottle. “All those thugs care about is money and getting their hands on the highest quality blood.”

  Quality blood? I think back to the employee blood test results on Konstantin’s emails, to his Shifter Blood Bunnies and the results he was inquiring about in the car earlier this evening. What the fuck is Konstantin’s obsession with super blood? Beyond the normal ‘need to drink blood to survive’ thing, of course?

  “What makes blood premium then?” I ask.

  “It’s not what,” Stepan says. “It’s how. My father doesn’t get involved in any of that, but his cronies are always talking about it.”

  He’s drunk an entire bottle of Crystal on his own and is starting to sway a bit. I lean over to prop him up and he hugs me. He squeezes me so tight I feel the zip of my dress slide all the way down.

  “It’s so nice to speak to someone normal,” he slurs.

  I’m about to ask him what he knows about the drained bodies, when a resounding smash of the door flying open pulls us apart. Silhouetted in the frame is Rada…and Konstantin.

  Stepan jumps up, his features instantly hardening as if he were the tough Vamp-to-be his father knows him as. I stand beside him, my breasts spilling out of my nurse’s costume. The heat from Konstantin’s glare has me quickly zipping my dress back up.

  “I bring you to a business meeting and I find you fucking cheap whores?” Rada snarls at his son.

  “It’s my birthday,” Stepan deadpans with a shrug.

  “If you’re really interested in that slut, I’ll bring you back in two years when you’re a real man. Then you can drain every last drop from her.”

  I look over at Konstantin but he says nothing. Rada nods curtly at him then marches away, Stepan following behind without giving me a backward glance.

  Konstantin closes the door quietly behind him and leans against it, arms crossed and face stony.

  “So, you give lap dances now.”

  It’s not a question.

  “Talk to me,” he says.

  “They’re not involved in any missing cargo,” I reply, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground. “In fact, Rada’s son said everyone is too scared of you and Lukka to mess you around.”

  Konstantin’s lip twitches as if this pleases him. I keep Stepan’s comment about his tight-ass to myself, and neither do I tell him about Rada’s gang’s obsession with blood. That’s something Jackson needs to hear more about. I finally have a lead and I’m not passing it over to Konstantin - not until I get to the bottom of it myself.

  Konstantin is staring at me, but I can’t decipher the look on his face. He pulls up the strap of my bra that has slipped down my shoulder and I suppress a shudder. His finger is cold against my skin and I remember the sweet taste of his blood sliding down my throat last night, and the way my core pulsed with want after.

  “I don’t have anything to worry about?” he says, tracing my lips with his finger.

  I shake my head. He takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. Flashes of my dream materialize before my eyes every time I blink. Konstantin’s blood on my chest, his body between my thighs, his mouth against mine.

  I look away from his ink-dark eyes and clear my throat.

  “You look nervous,” he says. “Did you sleep badly?”

  “No, I slept wonderfully,” I said.

  He smiles. “Of course, you did.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  There are still a few hours until closing time but I’ve had enough for one night. Konstantin has avoided me since the episode with Stepan and I’ve spent my time pretending to work but really mulling over the intel I got from my failed seduction. I need to look further into Rada’s cronies and why they may possibly want to steal blood from construction workers when it’s so easy to walk into a bar like this one and get your fill. And why would construction worker blood taste better anyway?

  I’m starving and the club is emptying. I head to the changing rooms where I know there will be cake. I can’t remember the last thing I ate, and my headache still hasn’t gone since I woke up.

  At first it looks like the room is empty, then I hear a gentle snuffle. Ansel, the dancer from Kazakhstan, is in the corner huddled in a ball on the bench and Lukka is standing over her so I can only see his back.

  What the hell is he doing to her? Why is she whimpering?

  With all my might I shove him to the side and grab Ansel by the shoulders.

  “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

  She doesn’t answer right away.

  I swivel around to face Lukka. “If you hurt her, I will use that stupid gun holster you’re always wearing to choke you in your sleep.”

  Lukka looks briefly taken aback, and I feel fear at the edges of my vision like a cold fog. Maybe threatening a murderous Vamp in his own club isn’t the smartest thing to do.

  Then he laughs, hooking his hands through his gun holster.

  “This is Supreme limited edition, little Witch. It’s not stupid.”

  That’s what he got out of that?

  Lukka continues laughing as he walks out of the changing room, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.

  I turn back to Ansel and examine her for neck wounds or bruises.

  “I’m going to kill him,” I whisper.

  “He didn’t hurt me,” she says, her voice small. She’s crumpled on the bench like a wounded bird trying and failing to take flight. “He offered to help me.”

  “Help you? With what?”

  “With finding out who hurt Maxim.”

  “You found him?”

  She nods and her thin body starts to shake. I have the urge to cover her with a blanket, but that’s the last thing you’ll find in a strip club.

  She closes her eyes and for a moment I think she’s praying. Then she speaks.

  “His body was discovered this morning. It was completely drained of blood.”

 
Words fail me. I stare down at Ansel, the pain in her eyes is heart-wrenching.

  The faces of that evil female Vamp and the guy with the tiger tattoo flash in my mind. Stepan didn’t trust them and neither do I.

  I envelop Ansel in a hug and let her sob on my shoulder. I can’t say I’m that upset about the news, he didn’t sound like the nicest of boyfriends, but I also know what it feels like to lose someone. I squeeze her tighter to me, the entire time itching to find out whether Konstantin already knows.

  I knock on the office door. When there’s no answer I walk in anyway.

  “I didn’t say come in,” Konstantin says. A man wearing a white lab coat is beside him and they are bent low over some documents.

  He signals for the man to leave his office then sighs, looking back down at his paperwork.

  “What do you want? Looking for more people to practice your lap dancing with?”

  I ignore his barbed comment.

  “Thought you should know I sent one of your dancers home.”

  His head snaps up inhumanly fast.

  “You did what?”

  I knew this was coming – but what was I meant to do? Give Ansel a hug and tell her to get back on her pole and forget about her dead boyfriend? The girl is heartbroken and I’m so close to getting to the bottom of this. I need to quiz Ansel about all she knows, and to do that I need to be a true friend. Which is why I told her to go home and said I’d deal with the boss.

  Konstantin’s on his feet, teeth bared like he wants to rip me apart. He strides over, but I stand my ground.

  “You don’t manage my staff, darling,” he growls, making the last word sound like it has ten syllables. “Why did you do it?”

  “Ansel’s boyfriend was found murdered this morning. I figured even your rich client freaks would struggle to get it up for a girl getting tears all over her sparkling panties.”

  Konstantin’s body relaxes and he rubs his temples. His teeth go back to normal.

  “Who was her boyfriend?”

  “A guy called Maxim. He worked at your construction site. Did you know him?”

  He doesn’t even have the decency to look sad or shocked.

  “You think I know the name of every person that works for me? I did hear there was another murder onsite, but I didn’t know he was linked to one of my dancers.”

  “Do you think one of your rivals is behind these murders?” I ask.

  “Whoever it is they are being very sloppy,” he replies. He turns around and walks back to his desk. “I like your work, Saskia. You did well earlier with Rada and his gang tonight. But that’s the last time you do anything in my club without asking first. No more private dancing and no sending staff home. Understand?”

  I nod. Realizing that he didn’t answer my question properly.

  “You owe me,” he adds.

  I think of all the different ways he might punish me, the dangerous jobs he might have lined up for me, but the last thing I’m expecting is what he says next. “Tomorrow. I have a box at the Bolshoi Theatre to see Swan Lake.”

  Ballet? Tomorrow? I wanted to talk to Ansel tomorrow, but maybe I should give her a day or two to grieve before I start quizzing her. I’ll text her later. I’ve never been to the ballet and I’m not missing out on a trip to the Bolshoi. I must look like a kid at Christmas because Konstantin looks pleased with himself.

  “Will you be dancing?” I ask.

  “Not this time. My days as a leading man are behind me. You will be my date.”

  My heart stutters. “Business or pleasure?”

  He smiles. “I’ll let you decide.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  When I got back to the Volkov house this morning, just before dawn, a floor-length gown was waiting for me on my bed. Konstantin. The smooth motherfucker. Tucked inside the dress is a note telling me what time to meet him at the theatre that evening.

  I’m trying, but it’s hard to hate a guy who gives you the Pretty Woman treatment.

  The driver pulls up outside the Bolshoi theatre and I climb out of the car Konstantin organized for me, gathering the folds of my dress so they don’t touch the mounds of snow lining the streets like fondant. The gown is the color of fresh blood and fits like a second skin. The red full sleeves fall off-shoulder, halfway down to the cinched waist, and the train splits, red and black, and fanning out like the wings of a butterfly. Konstantin even included ruby earrings that look like droplets of blood.

  I’m sensing a theme here.

  “You look...exquisite.”

  Konstantin appears out of nowhere at the theatre entrance. He’s in a black smoking jacket with a shawl lapel. He offers me the crook of his arm and I take it.

  “Your hair looks very beautiful like that.”

  It’s in waves cascading down my back. “Well you did send a hairdresser to the house this afternoon,” I say. “I found it a little controlling at the time, but the day I say no to a free blow-dry is the day I’ve finally lost it.”

  He shrugs. “Devil’s in the detail.”

  I gaze up at the statue of Apollo that presides over the columned back-lit entrance, as Konstantin leads me up the steps of the theatre and into the bustling foyer. We visit the coat check and I’m relieved to see I’m not the only one dressed like a princess tonight. We turn heads as we waltz past the red silk tapestries that adorn the white-walled Imperial hall. With a start, I realize people recognize Konstantin. He must have danced in this very theatre – the famous leading man.

  “Did your original date stand you up, then?” I whisper as he steers me beneath the endless crystal chandeliers and ceilings painted in grisaille. We reach a wide set of red-velvet carpeted stairs.

  “I was going to come alone. I do most things alone.”

  Doesn’t your wrist get tired? I bite the joke back, it’s too beautiful here. For once I'm not in the mood for my own sarcasm.

  On the next landing, people are mingling and drinking flutes of champagne. Konstantin heads for the bar and orders one for me, as well as a single of eighteen-year-old Macallan scotch that probably costs as much as my dress.

  Some members of the crowd nod at him, but most seem to be avoiding his eye. A thrill runs up my spine as I realize no one here but me knows what Konstantin is. Or what he’s capable of.

  He places his cool hand on the small of my back and I jump.

  “Sweetheart, I have a little job for you. I’m going to introduce you to some people and make small talk. Squeeze my hand if they lie, just like you did in the restaurant the other night.”

  I think back to the bloodbath in Sakhalin. Is that why he has me wearing red? So that when he massacres some poor bastard it won’t leave a stain?

  He takes my hand, his lips flickering into a half-smile like he can read my mind. “Don’t worry. I promise to be every bit the gentleman tonight.”

  “Mr. Volkov, I’m glad you could make it,” says a deep voice beside us.

  Konstantin turns and smiles at the old man.

  “Boris, so nice to see you again,” Konstantin says.

  Ping!

  “Are you with your beautiful wife this evening?” he adds.

  “Unfortunately, my wife was feeling a little unwell,” the old man replies, snaking his arm around the waist of a young blonde woman. “So, I’m here with my niece instead.”

  Ping. Ping.

  It’s like a cash register in my head. If this goes on any longer, I’m going to need an Ibuprofen.

  “Let me introduce you to Saskia,” Konstantin says. “She works with me. She’s also one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever met.”

  I wait for the ping. There isn’t one. I take a deep breath and shake the man’s hand.

  “Boris is one of my business partners,” Konstantin explains, stroking his thumb along the inside of my wrist. I swallow and try to focus, but I can taste his Vamp blood on the tip of my tongue again. “Our latest venture is proving a little more complicated than first estimated though. Isn’t that right, my friend
?”

  Boris looks surprised that Konstantin is talking shop at the ballet, but he quickly covers up his discomfort.

  “Business is never straight forward, you know that. I too am very upset by the delay we’ve encountered. And the reasons behind it.”

  I squeeze Konstantin’s hand. His face doesn’t move a muscle.

  “Of course,” Konstantin drawls, all white teeth and flinty eyes. I notice the blonde woman is looking at my date more than her own. To be honest I don’t blame her. “A man like you would never double-cross me, would you, Boris?”

  The old man laughs. “Never.”

  I squeeze Konstantin’s hand again and pray to god he waits until the last act before getting his revenge.

  They say their goodbyes and Konstantin leads me to the back of the room. He’s still holding my hand.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” he says. “There’s just one more person I need your help with, then we can go to our box.”

  Our very own box? Even I know that’s unheard of at the Bolshoi!

  A tall slim woman is gliding towards us. She’s wearing a white dress that falls in ruffles to the floor like freshly fallen snow, her dark hair gathered in a tight bun, and her eyes feline and smoky.

  I feel Konstantin stiffen beside me. There’s history here. Ooh, interesting.

  “Katarina,” he says. “You look radiant.”

  The woman doesn’t smile. She’s looking at me like I just spat in her champagne.

  “You look wonderful too, Kostya,” she says in a French accent. “It’s nice to see you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “You never should have left us, you know,” she says. “You belong in the ballet. There is no other place for you.”

  “I didn’t leave, Katarina. I retired. Moved on to greater things.”

  “Silly boy,” she coos affectionately. “Nothing is grander than the ballet.”

  A wave of something passes over Konstantin’s features. I’m starting to feel like part of the decor when he finally introduces me.

  “This is Saskia,” he says. “My girlfriend.”

  Oh, so that’s what this is about. The woman nods in my direction but ignores the hand I’m holding out for her to shake. Rude!