Chapter 23
VAUGHN
When she rises up on the toes of one foot and kicks up her other leg toward the ceiling, my breath catches.
My gaze cuts through the darkness of the theater, watching unblinkingly as her body spins effortlessly one hundred and eighty degrees as she moves her raised leg to the back before landing with the grace of a feather coming to rest.
Fuck.
She’s good.
Ballet isn’t exactly something I’ve spent time studying. I mean, yes, I’ve probably watched more performances than the average person. But that was from a distance, when I was keeping tabs on my brother while he was growing up, not even knowing I existed.
But those times that I’d watch Val, it wasn’t so much because I wanted to watch ballet so much as it was that I wanted to watch him.
So even though I’ve seen maybe a hundred ballet performances over the last ten or twelve years, I still wouldn’t claim to know a thing about it.
That said, I have seen enough to know that Evelina is fucking incredible.
Up on the stage of the Fonteyn Theater on the Knightsblood campus, Evelina smiles, a blush creeping up her neck as the younger dancers gush over the maneuver she just freaking nailed.
“Thanks,” Evelina grins, that blush still on her face. “Now, let’s break down the individual beats of Italian fouetté à la seconde.” She rolls her neck as she nods to the students lined up in front of her.
“So, that worked because I didn’t rush it.
The standing leg does the work. Push down before you go up.
If your plié is late, everything after it is late, too.
Right?” She glances around the group, making sure they understand.
“Don’t throw the leg. Place it. Let it arrive, then rotate.
The turn only comes after you’re stable.
” She grins. “Well, and in time with the music. Any questions?”
One girl raises her hand, and Evelina points to her.
“Yeah, I’m just wondering about how you get into the turn from the développé?”
“Ahh,” Evelina grins. “Yeah, that’s where fouetté à la seconde can get fucky.”
I can’t help but smile to myself in the shadows.
She swears now. And fuck if my dick doesn’t twitch, knowing he’s at least partly—okay, heavily—responsible for her slow, inevitable corruption.
Goddammit, I’ve missed her voice.
Far too much.
It’s now day five of Evelina going radio silent. No constant stream of texts with the energy level of a golden retriever puppy. No rambling, relentlessly bubbly voicemails.
No appearances at Syndicate events.
Nothing.
And it’s…bothersome how much that’s fucking with me.
I know it’s because I was a prick the other morning, after the night she mistakenly dosed herself with E—courtesy, I’m guessing, of the tablets Sebastian brought to the party.
A bold choice for a first-time foray into drugs, but after the night that followed, I’m not exactly complaining.
Should I feel I was in…I don’t know…a morally gray area because I mixed my particular brand of sadism-sprinkled sex with a partner who was high as balls?
Maybe.
Probably.
But I don’t.
And that’s not a general lack of fucks to give about the concept of consent.
It’s that when it comes to Evelina, there is no line I won’t cross.
That’s potentially a lot more problematic than I might care to admit. Because contrary to how it may appear when I’m with her, my life is built on lines.
Rules. Control. An unwavering, black or white view of the world. It's why I was such a dickhead the other morning.
It’s not that I have an aversion to kissing per se. It’s that there are fucking rules to this thing between us.
Break one, and the whole fucking thing descends into chaos. I can’t have that.
But Evelina makes me want to break them. So I do.
Take right now, for example. I’m not on the Knightsblood campus today to sit in the shadows and watch Evelina dance. I’m here for my coronation, so to speak.
It’s taken months of clawing, scheming, bribing, and placating, but finally, with Andrés Torvallés out of the way and no objections forthcoming from Cyril, my place on the board has been cemented. Today, that becomes official.
And yet, I’m not sitting in the Chancellor's office, chilling champagne and smugly waiting for my plans to come to fruition. I’m not sharing a cigar with the guy and talking about my plans for the future of the university.
I’m here, hiding in the fucking shadows, watching Evelina Nikitin float across the stage.
Imagining her dropping obediently to her knees at my feet, her mouth open and a “please, Sir” on her lips.
Picturing her bending over for me and gasping as she counts aloud the spanks of my palm across her pink, brutalized ass.
Running from me, screaming with both fear and excitement.
Writhing and moaning and shattering for me as she takes every inch of my fucking cock in every one of her tight holes, begging for more until my cum is dripping down her thighs and her face.
I frown as I adjust the now-massive erection tenting my pants.
I’m not even thirty yet. But still. Popping boners while in the audience of college girls in tights and leotards is never a good look.
“Okay!”
Up on stage, Evelina claps her hands together twice, ripping my attention back to reality and away from the glorious mental images of stuffing her panties into her mouth and pinching her clit while I empty my balls up her ass.
Settle down.
Fucking make us, pussy.
I quietly clear my throat as I watch Evelina step to the front of the stage and turn to face her students.
“Guys, great work today. Seriously. Keep working on the idea of doing without thinking when it comes to that fouetté à la seconde. Remember, if you’re counting down to it, you’re going to miss it. It has to be anticipated. And if you have any questions, seriously, just text me, okay?”
Her students cluster around her, peppering her with questions, smiles and a few shy hugs before they trot away, leaving her alone on the stage.
Evelina’s shoulders drop a little, like she’s been performing an act and can finally be herself again now that the curtain is down.
I watch as she stretches her arms above her head, then sprints across the stage and launches into a series of those fouettés à la seconde she was just teaching.
Fuck. Me.
She’s amazing.
I watch as she spins again, her leg effortlessly kicking up toward the stage lights high above as she turns and turns and turns before coming to another graceful finish.
Her small chest rises and falls, and she exhales heavily before rising up on her toes again with her back to me, giving me a lovely view of the tight globes of her ass, framed by her tights and leotard.
Evelina flinches when I start to clap from the back of the theater. She whirls, and I relish the way her face pales and then heats when she realizes who I am.
Her hands clench and unclench erratically at her sides, and her delicate throat bobs up and down as I calmly walk down the aisle toward her.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she stammers as I come to a stop at the lip of the stage.
“Watching you.”
Her face heats. “No… I mean, what are you doing here at Knightsblood?”
I cock a brow. “We just covered that.”
Evelina’s lip retreats between her teeth, and she crosses her arms. “I…”
“It is important that an Adept keep tabs on their Acolyte during the initiation period.”
I say it with all the excitement of someone reciting from a textbook. Her mouth twists.
“I… I’m still your Acolyte?”
“Is there any reason you wouldn’t be?”
Her brow knits. “I…I mean…we haven’t talked since the other—”
“Have you said your word?”
She squirms a little under my gaze, her teeth raking over her lip.
“No,” she says quietly.
“Then you’re still my Acolyte,” I murmur. I roll my neck and frown, pointing at the apron of the stage. “Sit.”
Evelina bristles, fire sparking in her gray eyes.
I exhale heavily. “Please. I’m not a fan of looking up to talk to you.”
She grins. “Well,” she blushes, her arms dropping to her sides as she pads to the front of the stage and sits on the edge, her legs dangling down. “Now you know how I feel.”
“I think we both know I’m well aware of how you feel,” I murmur, relishing the way her face turns bright red. She sucks in a breath as I move toward her, her petite frame shivering as my hands go to either side of her, caging her in.
“Did you really come all the way here to watch me dance?” she asks quietly.
“I’m actually on campus for a meeting,” I growl. “But yes, I’m here-here because I wanted to watch you dance.”
Her brow furrows. “But why?”
“Because you’re quite good.”
Evelina flushes. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “But I…I mean, so far, I only see you when we…” She looks down at her hands. “When we have sex,” she whispers.
“You mean when we fuck,” I growl. “Say it.”
She gasps quietly when I touch two fingers to her chin and lift her face to mine. She swallows, blushing to the roots of her hair.
“When we fuck,” she croaks, making my dick throb.
“Who’s to say that's not what I’m here for now?” I say darkly.
Her breath sucks in, eyes widening. “Is it?” she squeaks.
“That sounds suspiciously like a request, princess.”
She squirms, her face flushing even more as she tries to look away. My fingers tighten on her chin, forcing her to look right at me.
“Do you want me to be here for that?”
She shifts, still trying to avoid my gaze, her face pulsing with heat. Suddenly, she chokes out a sharp gasp as my other hand slips between her legs and cups her pussy through her leotard and tights.
“Vaughn,” she whimpers, her breath coming in short, staccato bursts as I start to rub her pussy through the fabric, feeling her get wetter and hotter.
“Answer me,” I growl, pressing my palm a little harder to the raw, slick heat radiating from her cunt.
“Y-yes—”
“There you are!”
God fucking dammit.
Evelina chokes on a gasp, her thighs clamping shut, trapping my hand between them. I turn to the sound of the voice and the auditorium door banging open, gritting my teeth when Evelina grabs my wrist and yanks my hand away.
Sabine wheels herself down the aisle toward us, with Ed Forbes and Madeline Brecht, two of the more prominent members of the board, walking close behind.
“We were at the boardroom ready to go,” Sabine smiles with her mouth, while her eyes narrow at me as if to say “and where the fuck were you?” But then her gaze shifts past me, and even that smile drops like a rock.
“Ed, Madeline,” I smile politely, “do you know Ms. Nikitin here? She’s been teaching some of the students in our dance program.”
Evelina hops down off the edge of the stage.
“Ahh, Roman’s sister, yes?” Ed beams, striding forward to shake her hand. “Always good to see our alumni assume their rightful thrones.”
Madeline takes Evelina’s outstretched hand next. “You’re with the Zakharova, aren’t you?” She smiles. “I saw your company’s production of Swan Lake a few months ago. Delightful. And Naomi Kim was a revelation.”
Eveline smiles widely, dipping her head. “Thank you. Truly.”
“I also remember watching you in particular, since your brother was such an impressive alumnus,” Madeline goes on. “Beautiful work.”
Evelina blushes deeply and thanks her again.
“Yes she’s quite talented,” I murmur, turning and locking my eyes on her.
Sabine loudly clears her throat. “Well, unfortunately, we do need to get to the boardroom. A few of the other members have packed schedules today,” she says crisply, shooting Evelina a dark look.
“Too true,” Ed sighs. “Well, Bancroft?” He claps me on the shoulder. “Shall we finally make things official after all these months?”
Truth be told, I’d much rather stay here, lay Evelina out on the stage with her head hanging over the edge of it, and fuck her throat until I come on her face.
Fucking do it. We can make them all watch…
Settle down.
I clear my throat and nod. “Of course. Lead the way, Ed.”
He and Madeline turn and start heading back up the aisle. Sabine shoots me a glare, grimly shaking her head back and forth.
“You’re distracted,” she mouths at me.
“Mind your own business,” I mouth back.
She rolls her eyes and then wheels herself back up the aisle.
Evelina shivers when I turn to her with fire in my gaze. I step into her personal space, relishing the way she gasps softly and backs up against the stage when my hand wraps around her throat.
“My meeting is only an hour,” I growl, looking her right in the eye. “Don't fucking move from this spot. When I’m done, I’m going to come back here, bend you over the front row, and pound that slutty cunt until you squirt all over my cock. Is that understood?”
Her jaw drops open, her eyes staring at me as fire throbs behind her face.
“I asked you a question, Evelina. Is. That. Understood.”
She gasps, nodding eagerly as I squeeze the pressure points on her neck.
“Yes,” she chokes.
“Good girl.”