Instinct kicks in my gut and I purse my lips against his, drawing a more passionate kiss between us and I ache for him to teach me more. He lays his hand on mine and I release the grip I have on the table beneath us. I let him move me and he places my hand on his chest, giving me permission to touch him. I hesitate, my attention torn between the feel of his tongue in my mouth and my twitching fingers, and I rest my hand on the taut fabric of his shirt. Muscles poke through from his abs and arms and my core throbs with anticipation.
Luka’s hands constantly move, triggering blooms of pleasure wherever he touches me. They slide downward from my face to my neck and my breasts, all the way down to the thick, black skirt between us.
I quiver, red-faced and exposed, as I lie down onto the table. Luka shifts between my legs and I squeeze my eyes shut as he pushes my dress up further and air touches my thighs. His hands linger just above my knees. I swallow hard, my cheeks burning as I wonder how much of me he can see in the dim room.
“Sofia.”
“Just do it,” I say, my voice far weaker than I want it to sound like.
He fingers dig in slightly, releasing just as quickly. “Sit up, please,” he says.
I don’t move. I can’t. I grow even tenser instead, waiting for it to be over with.
“Sofia…” He lays a hand on mine. “Please.”
I open my eyes and his haunting, silver eyes find mine in the dark. A wave of calmness washes over me and my fingers loosen enough to wrap around his.
Luka pulls me up to sit and rests his hands on my open thighs again. Our lips graze, his warm breath rushing past my cheek. “Sofia, have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. “Made yourself feel good?”
I hesitate. Answering with the truth would bring me great punishment if it were to fall on Zappia ears, but I have no urge to lie to Luka Lutrova. I nod and he kisses me again, softly flicking his tongue against mine.
His warm touch crawls an inch along my shivering knees. “Will you do it for me now?”
My breath catches. “Why?”
He smirks. “It’ll make things… more comfortable for you.”
“I…” I pause, my tongue growing heavy. “I don’t know if I can…”
He moves his hand a little higher and it disappears beneath my skirt. “I can do it if you’d rather. I want you to relax.”
I nod as my heart races faster. Luka kisses the edge of my mouth, lulling me into a sweet surrender. I close my eyes, seduced by it until I feel him touch the crotch of my panties.
I grab his hand, stiffening again. “Wait,” I breathe, my cheeks on fire. “I… I can do it.”
Luka pulls his hand away and sets it on my knee again. He looks down to watch me inch my hand beneath my skirt. I push through all the ingrained shame involved with the act, utterly floor by the desire in his eyes. My clit throbs even harder as I touch it, shooting sparks down to my ankles. I bite my lip, silencing myself as pleasure quickly rises to the surface.
“Shh…” Luka whispers, leaning closer to brush his lips against mine.
My hips push off the table, gently grinding against my fingertips, and I feel the smile grow wider across his face. Each breath fuels the heat in me, growing wilder with each rub. I open my mouth, silently moaning, and Luka traps the sound with his lips. He lays his hands on my waist to hold me steady as I climb even higher.
“Don’t stop,” he says, staring into me.
He wants me to finish, to release the deluge just begging to burst out of me. I can already feel the wetness staining my fingertips, dripping more every second, just waiting for him to enter me and fill me with his seed.
The tension mounts and he holds me tighter as the euphoria overwhelms my core. I keep silent, hiding my orgasm from all ears as I always have, but I let out a soft whimper just for Luka before pushing forward to steal a kiss from his perfect lips.
He pulls me closer to him and I feel the hard bulge pressing against my inner thigh. It’s frightening and strange but the instinct to run is nonexistent. Even as he reaches for his belt and pushes his zipper down, I keep still, waiting with throbbing anticipation.
I wonder when it will become too much. I wonder if I’ll chicken out completely and rush out of here in a flurry that will surely get us both caught.
But I don’t. The forbidden urge for him never leaves me. It blends with my fear, igniting a more powerful lust and shutting out all of my other senses.
“Sofia, look at me.”
I fall even harder into his eyes and he holds them with ease.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer without thinking.
He takes another step closer and I grow tense. “I won’t hurt you,” he says again. “I promise.”
I sneak a peek at his girth before it disappears beneath my black dress. He moves with experience, taking hold of my panties and pushing them aside. I feel his flesh on mine, hard and warm, as his tip burrows between my folds.
Luka stops and plants a firm kiss on my lips. The moment lasts in my mind, frozen in time as my thoughts scream loud in my ears. It’s been twelve years since I last saw him. I never even spoke to him then, but I’ve never in my life felt closer to anyone.
I hold my breath as he pushes his cock into me. There’s a sharp pain but he slides inside with little resistance, my walls slick with honey.
He doesn’t go all the way. He holds back, flexing his jaw and trembling as he makes himself go slowly for me. I force myself to breathe, counting his shallow thrusts until the pain is gone and that warm desire overwhelms me all over again.
I lean into him, inviting him to take more of me, but he stays in control.
“Deeper,” I whisper against his lips.
Luka rests his head on my shoulder and groans softly. “Not yet.”
His voice struggles through lust as mine does. I hold his hips, torn apart inside, but I know he’s right. I might regret it, but I can’t stop my desires from taking over.
“Luka…” I taste his name on my tongue and a sense of terror fills me as I realize I may never say it again.
This night, this moment.
This will never happen again.
He pushes in a little more and tears fill my eyes. His teeth rake against my neck and he leaves soft nibbles on my skin as he thrusts even deeper. I claw up his back, holding his body against mine, trying to commit every possible detail of him to memory. That salty taste of his skin, the sweetness of his tongue. The subtle smell of his cologne and that natural scent in his hair. I never want to forget anything about Luka Lutrova ever again.
His arms slide around me and he lets out another stiff groan as he cups my ass, drawing me closer to intensify his grind. I moan into his mouth, feeling every quick buck of his hips against my pelvis. Skin against skin, I feel him so deep inside, throbbing and pulsing. Soon, he will fill me. I tremble with fear and a silent prayer passes over my lips.
I will not live my life in chains.
Luka’s body goes tense, his fingers digging into my soft rear. I hold him closer, feeling every twitch and jolt of his muscles as climax surges through him. He pushes in as deep as he can go and my insides quiver around him as he holds it there.
I close my eyes and I feel his heat inside of me. Thousands of lives are created every day. If a merciful deity truly exists in this world, then he’ll choose this moment to bless me with — not tomorrow night or the night after. If he truly cared for me, then he’d save my life tonight.
Luka raises his head to look at me. His cheeks are bright pink. A thin layer of sweat coats his brow. We stare into each other’s eyes, listening as our hearts slowly stop pounding and he grows soft inside of me. When he finally pulls out, I feel a twinge of bittersweetness.
I tighten my muscles, refusing to let a single drop of him free as I remain seated. I let my dress tumble back down to my ankles as Luka zips himself up. He moves away from me and avoids my eyes.
“Once we leave this room, this never happened,” he s
ays.
I nod, knowing he can’t see it. “If it ever gets out—”
“I’ll deny it.”
It’s what I promised him. No one will ever know. I won’t ask him for anything else.
But it still hurts.
“Of course,” I say. “I will, too.”
He reaches for his jacket on the wall and as he slides it onto his arms, he finally glances at me again. “Good luck to you, Sofia.”
“Wait…”
I hop off the table and step toward him. He regards me with a lingering gaze as I push onto my toes to kiss him one last time. He doesn’t move but his lips twitch against mine, closed mouth and chaste.
“Thank you, Luka,” I whisper.
I sense the hesitation in him. He holds his breath, pausing for an eternity before he leans down to return the kiss. It lasts no longer than a second — like a quick peck between acquaintances. Just two old friends passing each other by before returning to their busy lives.
He pulls the door open and disappears into the garden.
* * *
I step into the chapel and all eyes fall on me.
A string quartet plays me in, sliding their bows to the tune of Here Comes the Bride, and I throw one foot in the front of the other. When I did this yesterday, it felt as though I was walking through quicksand. Each step felt heavier and closer to death.
But not today.
Today, I feel lighter, and that’s not only because I no longer have to wear that hideous black tarp. Today, I wear white. The color of virginal purity. Freshly fallen snow. The perfect Zappia bride.
I hold back my laugh.
Gio rolls my veil over my head and he looks at me for the first time in weeks. He smiles and I force a smile in return, staring a hole right through him to the man standing behind him.
Luka Lutrova.
He keeps his eyes down, possibly the only person in the room not gawking at me. I say another silent thank you to him for it. It somehow makes me feel even closer to him. Here we stand, the only two people in the world in on the joke and we always will be.
The priest begins by reading a bible verse but his voice echoes on through me. I feel my smile take hold of my face again. Everyone will assume my grin is because of Gio, but I know better. Luka knows better.
If the Zappias want the perfect bride, then I’ll be the perfect bride for them. For years, they’ll think that’s exactly what I am. Kind, doting. Submissive.
In the end, they’ll all be in for a surprise.
Gio takes the ceremonial knife from the priest and my fingers twitch.
I’d nearly forgotten about this part. The Zappia blood ritual is yet another outdated, barbaric custom but at least they’ve done away with the tradition of consummating the marriage at the back of the chapel directly after the ceremony.
“My blood is your blood,” Gio says, repeating after the priest, word-for-word, as he readies the knife’s edge against my thumb. “My flesh is your flesh. From now through eternity.”
I wince as he presses down and my blood drips out into the white, ceremonial basin.
He hands the knife to me. I smile again, more than happy to make him bleed.
“My blood is your blood,” I say as poke him. Hard. He flinches while the rest of them chuckle at his oh-so-adorably nervous bride practically stabbing him. “My flesh is your flesh. From now through eternity.”
He bleeds into the basin, his red mixing with mine. The priest pours a few drops of oil on top of it and ignites it with a candle. I watch as our blood burns, signifying that I’m not only a Zappia in name, but in flesh, too.
Good.
The finest killer of flesh is a virus. One that eats you apart from the inside out.
It’ll start with me. It’ll start with the life hopefully taking hold of my womb at this very moment and it’ll end with the destruction of the Zappia family.
Gio takes my hand and slides the wedding band onto my finger, along with the diamond engagement ring.
I smile again.
I’ll keep smiling until he’s a miserable, broken, old man.
I am a Zappia woman, after all.
Chapter 8
Luka
Three Years Later
“It’s happened again.”
I yawn, just barely opening my eyes to stare at Markov. “What’s happened again?”
He gestures for me to follow him and walks out of my doorway.
“Markov—”
“Follow me.”
I sigh and grab a sweater to throw on before trailing him down the hall. It’s three in the morning. Whatever he dragged me out of bed for, it better be important.
We enter his workshop across the estate and he beelines for his desk. “They’re back in Moscow.”
“Who’s back in…”
I pause, my brain finally waking up and answering the question before I even finish asking it.
The kobra.
Tracking the kobra has proved to be more difficult than we thought it’d be. Markov was right. Blood leaves a trail, but the blood he collected three years ago from the hissing man turned up nothing. Since then, a string of murders has plagued Russia, one every few months or so, each one more confusing than the last — and each one prompting the same lecture from my father.
Leave them be.
Luckily, Markov disagreed. Not at first, of course. His loyalty to my father is too strong. It wasn’t until I mentioned vengeance for my mother, for the grandmother I never knew, did Markov change his mind. The agent who killed Katerina Starkova is long dead, but Viktor never found out why she was targeted in the first place. The two of us have been quietly tracking the similar killings throughout Europe ever since.
There’s no pattern, no connection between the victims. Just dead bodies with two bullets in their eyes but someone, somewhere out there, is profiting from this. If there’s anything that leaves a more potent trail than blood, it’s money.
“Where?” I ask him.
Markov sits down in front of his laptop and I linger over his shoulder as he points. “The Chernyy Obuvi,” he answers. “It’s a nightclub down from—”
“I know what it is, Markov.” I chuckle.
He throws up his hands. “Excuse me. I’m not as hip as you are, Luka.”
“What happened?”
“A young man was found in a men’s room stall.”
“Two bullets through the eyes?”
He nods. “And four more through his heart. They wanted him to stay down.”
“Who was it?”
“Hans Petrovin.”
I bite my inner cheek. “I went to school with Hans Petrovin. His brat little brother, Nikita, too…”
“And your father with their father, Stefan. They didn’t get along.”
“Neither did we.” I rub my tired eyes. “Markov, what part of this couldn’t wait until morning?”
“The part where you did it.”
I pause. “Oh.”
Markov turns in his chair to face me. “You were here all night?”
“Of course.”
“No last minute jobs pop up?”
“Last minute jobs to off Hans Petrovin? No.”
“Then, how do you want to explain this one?”
He presses the space bar on his keyboard and a video plays.
I lean forward, blinking along with the thumping bass of the nightclub security footage. Hans drifts into the back hallway, stumbling beneath flickering fluorescents toward the men’s room. A tall man comes into view behind him with short, dark hair and a thick brow, wearing a long, black coat—
Me. He looks like me.
Exactly like me.
He reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws a small pistol before following Hans inside and closing the door behind them.
“Who has seen this?” I ask.
“Can’t be sure,” he says. “I managed to have it deleted from the club’s servers, but… Luka, things like this never stay quiet for long.”
&
nbsp; I rub the sleep from my eyes. “I didn’t do this, Markov.”
“I know. This hit was sloppy. I trained you better than that.”
“What does this have to do with the kobra?”
He smirks and points to the monitor as the men’s room door opens again. The man with my face steps out into the quiet hallway and walks slowly toward the back exit.
“You hear that?” he asks me.
“No. Hear what?”
Markov scrolls back on the footage and slides the volume to full blast. I listen closer, just barely making out the sharp bursts of air parting his lips.
I take a step back. “He’s hissing.”
He nods. “Sound familiar?”
I look a little closer. At first glance, his face looks like mine, but now that I remember him, I see the minor differences standing out. I never forget a face. Especially not one I’ve beat on before.
“They’re setting me up,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Who have you pissed off recently?”
I chuckle. “I wish I knew.”
“You count cards at the casino again?”
“No, Markov.”
“Stick your dick where it didn’t belong?”
I raise a brow. “Not recently.”
He glares at me and lets out a quick exhale. “The Petrovin family has been looking for an excuse to go after the Lutrovas for decades. If this video gets out, then they’ll sure as hell use it.”
I scratch my head. “Then, what do we do?”
“First, we tell Nikolai.” He holds up a hand as I roll my eyes. “He can buy us some more time before this makes it to the Petrovins.”
“Time for what?”
“Time to gather our allies. If this turns bloody, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Like who?”
“Start from the top and work your way down.”
I cringe. Starting from the top usually means the end of the alphabet.
“Gio…” I mumble.
“He’s a brat,” Markov nods, “but he’s a powerful brat. You need him in your corner.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Killer Love Page 5
