Blood Oath Christmas (Bloodbound Christmas #1)

Chapter 1

IVY

Crash!

I nearly jump out of my shoes at the loud sound. But I’m not the only one startled. Several men get to their feet, their hands hovering over guns I didn’t even know they carried.

My heart lodges in my throat as I look around Otrava, the private Russian club where I work. I know some of these guys aren’t exactly saints, but I had no idea they carried firearms.

Even my friendly stalker, as my boyfriend Frank likes to refer to Konstantin Mikhailov, looks deadly from his table in the far back corner. He doesn’t stand like the others, but I see the glint off his gun from where he’s holding it under the table.

His green eyes meet mine briefly before scanning the room again, looking for any signs of danger, I suppose.

“Sorry,” Michelle, the new waitress, stammers, drawing my attention. “I apologize. So sorry.”

My gaze drops to the floor in front of her, and I notice the cause of all the tension in the club.

Michelle had dropped her tray of drinks, and while normally, the breaking glass would be shrill, because it fell partially on tile and partially on carpet, it had a deeper sound, something closer to a gunshot.

She drops to her knees and starts cleaning up the mess. Everyone slowly sits back down, their hands drawing back from their guns.

Holy shit! I rush over to help Michelle. The poor girl is mortified and probably terrified that she’s going to get fired. She keeps apologizing while quickly picking up the broken pieces of glass.

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to cut yourself and add blood to this mess we’re cleaning up,” I warn her.

Big, watery blue eyes stare at me for a half second, then she returns her attention to her chore. Thankfully, she’s being more careful now. We finish cleaning up the broken glass, then Michelle carries it all back to the kitchen.

Straightening, I tug my dark blue skirt into place, smoothing out any wrinkles, then meet Konstantin’s gaze again, and my hands still.

What’s his story? He comes here every Friday night and sits at the same table. He doesn’t order any food, just sits there, drinking a mug of sbiten, a spiced drink made with honey, water, ginger, and cinnamon. Sometimes he brings a newspaper, and other times, he scrolls on his cell phone for hours.

But I feel like he’s always watching me.

I’ve never actually met him, and despite all the times he’s been here, I’ve only served him once.

But then, I’m not really a server. I work in administration, ordering supplies, setting up employee schedules, and hiring and sometimes firing staff.

When it’s super busy or we’re short-staffed, I’ll step in and help serve. Like tonight.

Clearing my throat, I move around the club cleaning off empty tables.

But I still feel his eyes on me. Watching me.

It used to freak me out, but the man has never done anything to make me uncomfortable, other than watching me.

Now, though, I’ve started thinking of him as my own personal guard.

There’s just something about his big body, alert gaze, and aura of…

danger that makes me feel safe when he’s near.

It doesn’t hurt that the man is absolutely gorgeous, even if he is twice my age.

Maybe that’s part of the attraction, his sophistication earned through life experience.

His dark brown hair and vivid green eyes are striking.

Then there’s the tats. I’ve always been fascinated by tattoos, even though I don’t have any myself.

But this guy, he has his fair share. There are tats on the backs of his hands and wrists, and then there’s the one that I can just see through his shirt at his throat.

I’m not sure what it is since most of it is covered, but sometimes, it’s all I can do not to tell him to take off his shirt so I can see the rest of it.

The small chime over the door jingles and I glance over, a smile tugging at my mouth as Frank walks in. Setting the dirty dishes in the large bucket on the rolling tray, I nod at an empty table and head toward it.

Frank grins at me and leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek before pulling a chair out for me. His lips are dry and warm, but familiar. He takes the seat across from me and reaches a hand across the table.

I hesitate for just a moment before stretching my hand out and putting it in his. I’m not big on public displays of affection, or maybe it’s because I just don’t feel that way about Frank, but it makes me a little uncomfortable to be so intimate in public.

Not that Frank and I haven’t had sex. We have.

Numerous times. It was nothing to write home about, but it settled a need at the time.

Frank is a good friend, my best friend, actually, but I don’t want to date right now.

I’m just too busy working and taking classes online to get my teaching credentials.

A long time ago, Frank and I agreed to be each other’s plus-one.

In other words, we use each other so that we don’t have to worry about getting involved with anyone else.

It’s the perfect setup for me, but I don’t think Frank is as happy with the situation. Sometimes, like now, he looks at me with… well, with worship in his hazel eyes.

“I see your stalker is here again, as usual.” There’s a little irritation in his tone despite the friendly smile resting on his handsome face.

I glance at Konstantin. He’s looking at his cell phone but suddenly lifts his gaze, as if feeling my eyes on him. Our eyes meet but he doesn’t smile. He glances briefly at Frank, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“He’s harmless,” I tell Frank for the millionth time.

But is he? He pulled out a gun earlier and looked ready and capable of using it.

Frank’s eyebrows pinch together. “It’s… creepy the way he always seems to be watching you.”

“Maybe he just likes his sbiten… and my company,” I tease.

Frank doesn’t smile, but he shakes his head and waves a hand, indicating he may not like my stalker being around, but he’s not going to argue about it now.

The small candle on the table shoots off little beams of light that flicker in Frank’s eyes as he squeezes my hand. Bortnianski Concerto plays softly in the background. Perfect for Christmas time. Earlier, it was too busy and there were too many voices to hear the holiday music.

My stomach churns at the serious look in Frank's eyes and I panic, speaking before he has a chance to.

“How was work?” I say so quickly my words are a bit jumbled. “Did the parents of that boy come in?”

Frank is a school principal and has been dealing with an unruly boy who is dead set on becoming the worst bully. Poor Frank has been trying to set up a meeting with the kid’s parents for a while now.

He frowns at my interruption but nods. “Yeah, and they weren’t too happy. Josh, the student, seems to take after his mother. I swear, that woman is horrible! It’s easy to see that she runs her house with a strong hand.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up his free hand. “We need to talk about Christmas,” he says. “It’s less than two weeks away, and you still haven’t given me an answer.”

Letting go of his hand, I lean back in my chair. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say after a minute.

“You’ve met my parents before. Why are you so hesitant now?”

Because it’s too much like a relationship, I want to blurt out. But I also don’t want to hurt his feelings. I may not be in love with Frank as a significant other, but he’s important to me, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt him.

“I don’t feel comfortable spending Christmas at your parents’ cabin… with them.”

Frank leans back in his chair and regards me for a long minute. “You’re afraid of what they’ll think about us.”

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “They’re constantly on your ass to settle down, get married, and have children. If I go and we spend Christmas together like that, your mother will probably start planning our wedding.”

I chuckle at that. His mother probably has a standing reservation at her church for when her only son decides to take a wife.

“Would that be so bad?”

I freeze, my eyes widening. My heart thumps in my chest, and my mouth goes dry.

That’s too close to a marriage proposal for my liking.

“Frank—”

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. “I was just teasing,” he says, but he wasn’t, and we both know it.

Glancing at my watch, I get to my feet and force a smile on my face. “I have to get back to work. Got a lot to do before closing up.”

He stands and walks around the table, giving me another dry kiss on my cheek. “Text me when you’re home so I know you made it safely.”

I nod, then turn and head toward the kitchen. My stomach rolls with guilt. I should have cut things off with Frank a long time ago when I realized he was taking our fake relationship too seriously. But I didn’t want to. I enjoy our arrangement and I love being around Frank. Most of the time.

Now, I let things go too far, and he’s hurt. I have no one to blame but myself. He can’t control the way he feels, just as I can’t help it that I don’t feel the same way.

The next couple of hours go by quickly as I do the closing duties. Once the customers are gone—I didn’t even see Konstantin leave—and the kitchen and dining room are clean, I let the staff go home for the night.

I’m just about to lock up when I spot the large garbage bag that didn’t get taken outside to the dumpsters.

“Well, crap,” I mutter, grabbing the heavy bag and dragging it to the back door. I have to walk backward, tugging the trash with me because it’s so heavy.

When I reach the dumpsters, I pause. How the hell am I going to lift this thing high enough to put inside the bin?

“I didn’t do it, you have to believe me!”

My head jerks up at the shrill male voice raised in fear. Stepping to the side of the garbage bins, I lean around a bush and look toward the sound.

“I don’t have to believe you, David,” another male voice says. His tone is cool and calm, yet somehow sinister. “And the fact is, I don’t like you, so it really doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not.”

“Plea—”

The man, David’s, voice is cut off by a loud boom. I jump, then stare in open-mouthed horror as David falls backward onto the ground. The street light provides just enough light to see blood spreading out around him.

My shocked gaze jerks to the other man and the gun he’s holding in his hand. It’s as if time stops as our eyes clash. The golden beam of light bounces off his blond hair, highlighting a wicked scar that bisects his eyebrow. I meet the coldest, deadliest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.

Shock holds me immobile. He just killed David. In cold blood! I just witnessed a murder!

Thoughts tumble around my numb mind, disjointed and terrified. I blink, trying to clear my mind, and realize something. The blond man is still holding that gun, but now he’s raising it, aiming it at me.