The Devil We Crave (Dark Descendants #1)

Chapter 1

YELENA

“Fuck, there is no reason this should be so hot.”

I snort and roll my eyes at Galina. And yet my gaze, like hers, stays riveted to her phone screen.

On it, a shirtless man, all gym muscles and biker tattoos, waves the glinting blade of a hunting knife into the camera.

A tactical military mask covers his whole face, even his eyes, but you can feel his gaze stabbing into you as he starts to roll his hips slowly.

He mimes grabbing a ponytail with his other hand and the words “your hair x my fist” flash across the screen as he yanks it back and starts to thrust harder, like he’s screwing a ghost.

Galina's right: there’s no reason this should be so fucking hot.

It’s ridiculous to the point of being comical. And yet, there’s nothing funny about the way the shadows ripple dramatically across the masked man’s grooved abs, the flat planes of his chest, and his tattooed biceps as he keeps thrusting his hips and brandishing his knife at the camera.

I blame Galina for my newfound addiction to the masked, tattooed men of BookTok – aka MaskTok – who I swear spend all day posting thirst traps on TikTok and Instagram.

Sometimes, they’re cosplaying fan favorite “book boyfriends” from hit dark romance novels.

Others, they’re just totally leaning into the “morally gray antihero” vibe.

I know it’s more than a little over the top, the way these guys rip off their shirts, or lick the edges of their knives, or dry-hump the camera.

But goddammit, it's so hot.

“No reason,” Galina sighs again as the man on the screen takes the hunting knife jutting out from his crotch and starts to stroke it, like he’s jerking off. “No reason at. Fucking. All.”

“You’re right, there isn’t. Because it’s…not?”

I grin, tucking my dark hair back as I pull my eyes reluctantly away from Galina’s screen and turn to Wren, my suite-mate and best friend.

“Aww, c’mon,” I tease.

“Yeah, don’t lie,” Galina snorts, closing the app then tossing her phone onto my bed. “No shame in admitting the MaskTok hotness. You’re in good company. Right, Ari?”

She looks expectantly at Arianna, who’s sitting at my vanity in her usual hoodie-and-jeans uniform, honey-blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, carefully painting her nails black.

“Nope,” she grins without looking up. “I want zero part of your weird romance book horniness, Gal.”

“Oh, right, I forgot.” Galina rolls her eyes. “Ari doesn’t get horny.”

Arianna glances up sharply, glaring at Galina. “What, because I’m not drooling over weirdos who look like they’re not allowed within a thousand feet of a school?”

Wren bursts out laughing. Galina feigns a dramatic faint across my bed, her ginger hair spread over the duvet, just as there’s a knock at the door and my cousin Lucia walks in.

Okay, she’s not actually my cousin. But her dad and mine have been best friends since before they were students here themselves at Knightsblood, and we were basically raised like cousins. It’s the same with Galina and Wren. Then there’s Arianna, who actually is Lucia’s cousin.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lucia sighs, waving tattooed fingers at us in greeting. Her black-brown hair hangs loose around her face. “My roommate was having another crash-out over being away from home.”

Lucia’s a freshman, so even though it’s pretty obvious she’ll be pledging The Order in the Initiation Trials later in the year…I mean, her cousin Damiano is the president of the club…she’s living in the regular dorms for now.

There are four clubs on the Knightsblood campus, all of which exist in this weird zone where the college both fully acknowledges them and yet also takes a totally hands-off, blind-eye approach to them.

It isn’t mandatory to join any of them, of course, but it's heavily implied if unspoken that being a member of one of the four clubs is pretty much the reason you come to Knightsblood, the shadowy “mafia ivy league school” that sits on the rocky southern Connecticut cliffs above the Long Island Sound, in the first place.

There’s The Order, which Lucia will almost certainly be pledging and of which Wren and I are both members.

The club tends to attract the planners and the calculators; the potential future spymasters and assassins of the mafia world.

Since we pledged The Order at the Initiation Trials in our freshman year, now that we’re sophomores we’ve moved into Morvaine Manor, the official club housing on campus.

Galina and Arianna—who are best friends, despite how it might look to the outsider, given the way they needle and tease each other—are in The Ouroboros Society.

Their club tends to attract the aspiring hackers, information brokers, and behind-the-scenes masterminds.

The two of them also room together at The Atheneum, the Gothic former campus library which now houses The Ouroboros Society.

Members of The Reckless—aka the daredevils and fighters—live like the true lunatics they are in The Spire—a crumbling old garrison lookout tower perched on a rock a little ways out from the main cliffs.

And then there’s Para Bellum for the kings and queens, aka the future heads of criminal families and organizations.

Fittingly, Para Bellum inhabits Kingsward Hall, a gorgeous, sprawling Gothic and Romanesque mansion high up on a hill.

It's where we’re all going to party tonight, to celebrate being one month into the school year.

At least, that’s the reason my friends are going.

I’m going for revenge.

“No apologies necessary. That outfit is insane,” Galina gushes, arching her brows at Lucia's frankly stunning black dress.

The short, strappy number looks incredible on her, and the lack of sleeves does a stellar job of showing off her huge collection of tattoos that I know make my not-really-my-aunt Naomi groan.

“Thanks,” Lucia blushes.

“Dior?” Galina asks.

Lucia nods and cocks a brow at me. “Your mom gave it to me when I was in the city a few weeks ago and said I could keep it. That okay?”

I smile warmly and wave her off. “Like you even have to ask?”

My mother, Milena, made such a splash as a professional ballerina with the Zakharova Ballet in New York that when she retired she was immediately picked up by Dior as one of their top brand ambassadors.

So, not only is there never a shortage of their stuff in the closets of our household, it’s also not uncommon to be riding the subway or walking through Times Square and be suddenly confronted with my mother’s gorgeous, smiling face in an ad.

My mom, the beautiful fashion model, and my dad, the powerful mafia don.

Yeah, no pressure living up to that, right?

I turn to check my reflection in the full-length mirror, adjusting the delicate chain around my neck with the little silver wolf pendant that Dad gave me years ago and then fussing with the dark blue, long-sleeved tunic top with the flared skirt over black leggings.

I used to wear a lot more stuff like Lucia’s fit. But not since this past summer.

Not since him.

I clench my teeth together.

Tonight, that asshole’s going to pay.

“Cute,” Galina gushes as she steps next to me, eying the pink and white sundress she’s wearing in the mirror. “But it’s still warm at night for fall. You sure you won’t be too hot in the leggings? You could borrow my red skirt?”

I snort. “The one your Papa hates?”

She grins. “Please. Papa hates anything that shows my ankles. Dad, meanwhile, thinks it’s cute as fuck.”

I laugh. Galina’s Papa, my pseudo-uncle Roman, is somewhat grumpy and gruff.

But he’s the pakhan of the Nikitin Bratva, so that tracks.

Meanwhile, her dad, Val, who used to be a dancer at the Zakharova with my mother—and Lucia's and Wren's too—is the sort of parent who’ll go with you to get your first tattoo.

He and Roman are complete opposites, yet they're probably the cutest married couple I know.

Aside from my own parents, that is.

Lucia grins and accepts the coffee mug of wine that Wren—who’s on her second—hands her. I arch a brow at my best friend when she tops up her mug a third time, but don’t say anything. Wren’s going through it right now, after her shithead of an ex, Bryce, broke up with her over the summer.

While he was inside another girl.

No, really.

I mean, Bryce is a piece of shit loser and Wren was way too good for him. But telling your girlfriend “I think we should take a break” when she walks in on you mid-pump with another girl? Gross.

“So.” Lucia glances at us. “What’d I miss?”

“Galina getting horny for social media again,” Ari sighs.

Lucia giggles. “More MaskTok?”

“Um, yeah?” Galina snorts. “And don’t lie just ‘cause Ari is being all judgy. You know you watch it too.”

Lucia takes a sip of wine, groaning. “Ok, guilty. I blame you, you know.”

“I’d be very offended if you didn’t,” Galina says primly.

What cracks me up the most about Galina’s drooling obsession with tattooed, knife-wielding psychos on TikTok is that apart from that, she’s probably one of the most wholesome girls at Knightsblood.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s a complete daddy’s girl princess with two dads, either of which could separate the head from the body of any boy who even looked at Galina the wrong way.

I should know. My dad’s the same.

Lucia’s eyes light up. “Hey, did you guys hear about Velvet Villainess?!”

Galina almost breaks her neck whipping her head around to Lucia. “What?!”

I hold back an eye roll. Galina is way too invested in all these "dark BookTok" accounts. Velvet Villainess is a female BookTokker with a crazy huge number of followers—maybe over a million by now—who posts thirst-trappy content that almost rivals the “your hair x my fist” type stuff the guys post.

No one knows who she is because she’s always masked. She’s also usually rocking some seriously scandalous outfits, if not outright lingerie. She doesn’t speak in her videos, but her written reviews of the dark romance books she reads are all very well done.