4. Vanya
4
VANYA
“S kanda, atakovat !
“Dammit, Rover! This is not fair,” Ciro yelps, dodging Skanda’s snapping jaws again and diving out of range. “I’m not going to hurt your dog!”
“Which is why is good practice for agility. You must get to me and incapacitate me without harming him. Also without getting balls ripped off,” I snicker, staying low in a crouch. We may have the advantage, but Shakal is fucking fast.
It’s thrilling to have such a capable and vicious opponent.
We have trained this way for a week, first thing in the morning. Each day, I come up with another layer of difficulty to stump him. So far, I have only managed to bruise and cut him. Yet with me, he holds back.
Today, I make things interesting.
“ Seychas !” I shout, lunging forward.
Skanda rushes in from the side, along with four more of my best fighters, dashing from the darkness near the building in the predawn light. We have him pinned down, hemmed in.
No way out.
He should give up. But that is not what I want.
Ciro tenses, glancing side to side. Assessing.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” he mumbles.
“This is life or death.”
“I survived the Gulag.”
“And now you stagnate. You show no initiative. You are limp dick!” I snap, feinting in for a slash. He ducks back, almost into range of Skanda and the two behind him.
They lash out, and he is forced to dodge, parry, chopping down to pop Skanda’s nose. It’s enough to buy him a moment.
“Stop holding back!”
“Stop pushing me. I know how to fight when it counts!”
“Count these,” I hiss, launching several daggers at him in quick succession.
His eyes pop and he drops, kicking one out of the air, deflecting another with his knife and leaping to the side. Right into a stone-fisted lieutenant. The blow knocks him back, rolling across the gravel, back to a crouch.
And I see it, the light flicker in his eyes.
The fire. Rage.
Like a mirror of my own anger.
Before I can blink, Ciro flies forward, sweeping the feet out from under one, chopping a stiff hand across his throat on the way down, cartwheeling over the unconscious body and into a backflip. Right over the second man.
Landing behind the stunned fighter, Ciro locks an arm around his neck in a heartbeat, shooting forward with all his might to drive my man in front like a human shield, blocking out Skanda’s rush and tripping up another heavy on the right.
Using his momentum, Ciro drives the body down face first into the ground, propelling himself into a somersault, straight through the grasping arms of the fourth, landing a solid crunch to Alexi’s nose, dropping him instantly.
Sliding into the dirt sidelong, he catches my eye as I fly past him, my roundhouse kick missing his face by an inch, Skanda’s teeth snapping air where his hand just was.
Artur is on him in a flash, slashing his knives out, too close to avoid. But Ciro flicks a dagger out of thin air, parrying, slicing three times in perfect, rapid succession. Wrist. Wrist. Shoulder, shoulder, ear. Then he slams the pommel of his hilt into Artur’s face, leaping forward and planting both feet into his chest. Soaring back off the colossal brute’s chest, he arcs over my head as I race for his back, my blades nicking the fabric of his jacket.
Boots crunch behind me and I hear a sharp squeal from Skanda as I wheel around. Only to choke as a vice grip takes me at the throat, lifting me off the ground.
I hang, gasping for a moment, wide-eyed as I take in the scene, helpless.
All four of my guys are rolling, groaning. None dead. But he could have. Easily. And my rottweiler lies on the ground, pinned under Ciro’s heel at the neck, his collar twisted around the toe of the boot.
That’s when I see it, the shaking in his chest, the wild grin plastered across his face. This is the Shakal.
“Ciro.” I manage to raise an eyebrow, pretending not to be shaken by his cold stare and the apparent indifference to my discomfort.
His eyes blink suddenly, like he’s snapping back to the present, and he sets me down, very gently, swallowing hard. His lips still twitch into a faint smile, his breath coming in soft shudders that might be a terrifying laugh.
“I-I’m—” Ciro looks away.
But I grab him, turning him roughly, forcing him to look at me with a stiff hand at his cheek.
“No. Never apologize for being what you are. For doing what you were made for,” I whisper, locking eyes with him. The faint smile pulling at my lips is impossible to hide.
This man is a fucking masterpiece.
And I should not be so fucking turned on right now.
Which is why I spend the rest of every day staying as far from him as I can over the next week. Assigning other lieutenants to train with him and take him out on scouting missions, touring the city of St. Petersburg, taking him to make rounds to collect protection money from the businesses. It keeps him busy and out of my hair.
And it keeps me from thinking about sparring with him. From thinking about showering with him after, and sharing a meal. Sharing my bed.
Fuck!
Every time I am near him, it is like a switch is flicked.
He makes me insanely irritated. Gets a rise out of me that no one has any business getting. Let alone a foreign killer who I should never have brought into our midst. Yet I know his past. I know what he can do for us.
And better to have him on our side than against us. The same goes for his family, his brothers. If they ever come back to power, this will secure our ties with them.
Or buy us leverage.
I hate even thinking of him that way.
Which is why I must. I cannot be weak. I must not let a man make me weak.
It will only make things harder for me, a woman in power. Not to mention making things harder for Ciro. Attracting unwanted attention and retaliation from anyone who thinks he doesn’t belong.
Which is…pretty much everyone so far, minus Igor.
At least for the time being, Pyotr has an infinite list of tasks and nonsense to keep me occupied. Mission briefs, coded missives, reports from the docks and our earnings in exports. Even though we have accountants and paper pushers to do all of this. He says I must learn everything top to bottom if I am to be a true leader.
I say bullshit. As much as I respect and love my Papa, he has never done a single bit of this crap in his life. His brother, my actual father, was the brains back in the day. But I do not dare question.
Picking battles and such.
I have found advantages by knowing the books and every single member of our operation across the country. Including our allied brotherhoods and our rivals.
Pausing to gaze out the window, I revel in a hint of sunlight, rare this late in the year. It’s the little things. Like the rich coffee in my cup, spiked with just a hint of vodka to take the edge off of my poor sleep and aching body. Sparring always gets me sore, but Ciro is on another level. A real challenge.
I’m lost in thought when my door swings open, a soft knock on the frame.
I know without looking who it is. No one else would dare to come straight in.
“ Sestrenka , what are you up to?” Matvey is always soft-spoken in the mornings, so like our mother. I, on the other hand, prefer not to talk at all.
“Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. Like I’m a fucking secretary.”
“You’re a whole lot more than a secretary. Maid, servant, gopher…you do it all for Uncle, da ?” He throws his head back right before he throws himself down on my bed.
Anyone else would annoy the shit out me, but he knows how to brighten my day. Okay, so he pisses me off just as often. Still, Mat is a shining star. He’s been through hell in his life. We both have. Nothing ever sticks. Nothing brings him down.
Where I am hard, stone cold, he is just as resilient. Only he is like a river, persistent and flowing. Even when he is dammed up, shut down, roughed up…he lets it all flow by. Probably why he and Ciro are two…how do you say it?
Pods with the peas.
Ciro’s light is much dimmer than I remember from when we met, but I know it’s still there. Which is why I like seeing them spar, joke. And why I need Matvey to look out for him. Ciro will protect my brother in turn.
“Did you need something?”
“Just wanted to warn you. Fyo’s on the rampage today. Be on the lookout.”
“He’s in rare form every day since you know who got here.”
“I’ve never seen someone get under his skin like this. He throws little child tantrums. Especially when he sees you two together. Like he thinks he owns you or something.”
“He is good soldier. Always has been, he just has misconceptions about us. After all, our parents were close with his. They made plans and promises…”
“Yeah, well, that ‘promise’ does mean shit if it’s not what you want. This is the twenty-first century, Van, not some aristocratic arrangement.”
“Sometimes I wonder…the way we do things. It’s outdated.”
“You can dress it up with tech and leather, but the Bratva will always be about blood and vengeance, right?” He smiles, quirking an eyebrow. Got to love his sarcasm.
“Politics will always be right there waiting to muck it all up too. But I have too much to do to think about Fyodor. Something about crossing bridges when I get to them,” I mutter, waving my hand dismissively.
“I think there is another bridge in your way right now if you would just cross it.”
“That is shit metaphor.”
“Ciro is bridge. Just to be clear.”
“Thanks, and shut the fuck up. Stay out of my love life, da ?”
“What love life?”
“Don’t you have protection payments to collect?”
“Alexi handled it. But he wants me to spy on some local hooligans. Some ‘suspicious’ activity down in foundry. Probably another underground dog-fighting ring. I’ll shut it down, or make them pay.”
“Good boy. Do not get into trouble or gamble away your monthly stipend.”
“Yes, Mama,” he quips dodging out the door before I can throw something at him.
Wrapping up as much of the paperwork as I am going to get done for now, I dress, heading downstairs. A few hours out of the house will clear my head. Besides, I need to check in with my informants, see that some of the men are behaving. There is a contingent of pigheaded outliers that tend to avoid checking in with me unless they are trying to impress Pyotr.
Fortunately, most of our members respect me. I’ve earned my reputation. Still, a time is coming soon when I must step out from under Pyotr’s shadow and clean house. Another day, though.
For now, I drive to a few spots, pay for tips, give orders of who to watch.
It’s boring. Just like the paperwork.
But I get to haul ass around in my car. It kills time before I must head back for meetings with the captains.
Stopping in the back coat closet on my way into the house, I am shrugging off my thicker coat when the door creaks open behind me. Immediately my body goes tense, the hairs on my neck standing on end.
“There you are, been looking all over for you.”
“I’ve been in my room all morning. Then errands.”
“Ha, lounging away like princess? Shopping?” Fyodor chuckles condescendingly.
“Doing work. You should try it sometime. Assuming you can read.”
“Cute. Speaking of books and pages…I have been wanting to make sure we are on the same. Page, I mean.”
“We’ve never been on the same page, Fyodor,” I say casually, making to push past him.
“Come on, Vanya, don’t fucking avoid this.” He leans into me, blocking my path and pressing in too close.
“Fyo. I need to go.”
“You need to remember. How good we are together. Remember Barcelona…”
“That one night in Barcelona was a mistake. And a long time ago.”
“The only mistake was not doing it again. Your body is even better than it was back then, baby.”
“And a lot stronger than it was then too. Back. Up.”
“See? You are strong. Powerful. We will make the perfect power couple to rule this place when Pyotr’s time is up.”
“Watch your mouth.” I glare up into his eyes finally, baring my teeth. He’s always toed that line, bordering on mutiny. Obviously, he wants the throne someday.
“Relax. I just mean you and I are right and left hand of Sokolov empire. It’s only right for us to join.”
“And it could be viewed as us teaming up for a coup. Running your mouth is going to get you killed someday, Fyodor.”
“I would die for another taste of you. Or you let me run my mouth another way and I’ll shut up,” he rumbles, pulling me toward him with a huge hand on my ass. “Run my tongue, I mean.”
Rage boils up in my gut, rippling through my body.
“Stop this. Now.”
“Or what? Come on, let’s get physical. I know you like it rough, and I can take it.”
“The only thing you can take, is your hands off me.”
Elbowing him hard, I try to slip past, but he’s too big, too strong. I shouldn’t have let him corner me. Or maybe it never occurred to me that he would be so bold, so aggressive. His hands lock around my waste, pinning me to the wall.
No matter how hard I struggle, I know I cannot overpower him. And I cannot let him dominate me. That will be the end of everything.
But Fyo’s our best trainer and fighter. He also has a temper that Ciro and I have been fueling for too long.
I should have realized this was coming.
“Look. We can bring this up with Pyotr later, see what he thinks, alright?”
“You already brought it up, if you know what I mean.” He grinds into my front, his erection pressing through the front of his tight pants. His lips inch closer to mine, and I’m ready to bite down hard when a cheery voice echoes in the hallway.
“Oh there you are, I was just looking for the two of you!” Ciro kicks the door open a little too hard, slamming it against the shelves, making a ruckus.
Fyodor wheels away from me immediately, startled and flustered.
And pissed off.
“Fuck off, pleb! Can’t you see we are in the middle of something?” Clenched fists at his sides punctuate the threat in his voice.
“I wanna play assault in the closet too!” Ciro snickers. The glimmer of anger in his eyes offsets the smile stretched across his lips.
“Do not test me, fuckerfacer. One of these days I will find you alone and have you all to myself. Then you will see how you like it, Diamante.”
“Oh, Fyo, are you saying that you wanna have your way with me? At least buy me dinner first.”
“That…is not what I meant!”
“Feels a little Freudian in here, huh? Or should I say Fyo-reudian? Oof, that was bad, but I can see your boner.” He points down, snorting derogatorily.
“Shut your fucking mouth!”
“No. You need to shut yours,” I shout, storming toward Fyo, shoving him off balance and out into the hall. The two guards at the back door turn to look and he balks, like he got caught. “Try this again, anything like it, and I will cut your testicles off and feed them to you in your sleep, Fyodor Morozova.”
“This is not done,” he growls, stomping off down the hall and out the back door.
A long, shuddering sigh escapes my lips, easing some of the fury clenched in my chest. Leaving only the tension of how achingly close Ciro is standing to me.
So I stomp off in the opposite direction, rushing into one of the unoccupied rooms we use for storage. The door clicks shut behind me and I know he followed.
Not that I didn’t want him to.
No. I didn’t.
Fuck! Why is he…
Rounding on Ciro, I stab a finger to his chest, backing him against the door.
“What gives you the right to interfere with my life? Messing with Fyodor out there is one thing, but you have no business stepping in between us. It only makes it worse!”
“I was diffusing the situation…er, trying to.”
“No. You were being just as much a dickhead as him, trying to assert some claim. Quit trying to piss on me.”
“What?”
“Like you and Fyodor having pissing contest, but also trying to mark me as your territory,” I fumble, flustered to be so close to him and frustrated with trying to express my anger in English. In the next breath I rattle off a series of curses in Russian, telling him off smoothly.
He seems to get the gist of it.
“Mixed metaphors aside,” he chuckles, raising his hands in defense, “I do push too hard with him. I can’t help it. Especially when he?—”
He always does this, getting me fucking worked up. Pissed off. Turned on. More pissed off at how turned on I am.
“I do not need you to protect me.” I lean in closer, making him press into the wall. That’s right. Back down, bitch.
But I’d rather he fight back.
“He was about to?—”
“You are not a knight in shining armor, Ciro. I am not damsel.” I love making him squirm.
“I know you’re not. I’m sorry . All I want is to have your back. That guy is not going to stop.”
“I am well aware. I have known him my entire life.”
“Then I will trust you to know how to handle him.”
“Damn straight, ‘noble knight.’ At least I know how you really feel about me now.”
“Wha—no. That was not?—”
“Shakal, I can see it in your eyes. When I am close. Especially this close…” I breathe up along his neck. Goosebumps pebble his skin.
“Keep dreaming…” he grumbles, looking up and away.
“You can’t resist me. You’re in love with me,” I taunt him, grazing my fingers up his chest.
Tilting his head back, he sighs, refusing to look down at me as I press my chest into him.
“You wanna play this game, huh?”
“What game?” I lick his chin. This is so foolish. But I don’t want to stop.
“This one…” Ciro drags a finger down my back, snapping his fingers.
A little gasp slips out as I realize he unfastened my bra. Sly bastard.
“You said you wanted to have my back, huh?” I whisper, turning right against him and rubbing my ass along his front, feeling the rock-hard length of his cock pressing through his jeans.
“If you think I won’t play along, you’re wrong. And I never back down,” he croons into my ear, slipping one hand down to cup my ass cheek, the other tickling the skin on my exposed stomach. The sensations are scintillating, tantalizing.
I close my eyes for just a second, resisting the urge to moan.
“Hm. Not bad. I think you could do better.” Leaning back into him, I tip my head onto his shoulder, lipping his earlobe.
“You have no idea…”
“Are you too scared to show me?” I strut away, spinning to lean against the shelves on the opposite side of the room. He crosses to me in a heartbeat, slamming one hand into the shelf behind me and looming over me. Yet he stays just outside my space when he does it, balancing just the right blend of bold and enticing.
“I’m not scared. But you are just playing me.” Ciro’s fingers dance along my hip, tracing circles on my skin. It’s fucking delicious.
“I like to play, yes.” My fingers dig into his chest, keeping me from reaching lower.
“Toying with me could prove dangerous.”
“Oh? So not everything is a joke to you.”
“When I find something that I want, I can be like a dog with a bone.”
“Where would you like to bury your bone, sobaka ?”
“Ohoho…you are dangerous, aren’t you?”
“That is how we live in the Bratva,” I say, slipping my hands up the back of his shirt, grazing my fingernails down his back. Ciro gasps, baring his teeth and leaning closer.
“Since day one, you have been fucking with me. Trying to get in my head. First the shower. Then sparring…”
“Maybe I want to figure you out? Or maybe I want to get in somewhere else…” My hands explore lower, down his sides, along his abs, inching into the lip of his pants, skirting around to the button, flicking it open.
In response he smiles, slipping one hand around my back, his fingers dipping into the back of my waistline.
“You won’t find anything in there,” I murmur.
“Is that so?” His breath quickens as his fingers spread, showing him that I am not wearing anything underneath. “Bold.”
And I am feeling bold.
Kissing up along the column of his neck, I pull on his zipper, letting the mouthwatering girth push out through his boxers against my palm. He’s so fucking big.
Licking my lips against the urge to swallow him whole. I mustn’t give in…
“I bet you won’t…” he whispers, popping the button on my pants.
“Bet I won’t what?”
“Let me do this?” He cups the back of my head with one hand, drawing me into a deep, sensuous kiss. I give in fully, deeply, flicking my tongue against his playfully, hungrily.
Pulling back, breathless, I lock eyes with him, our gazes simmering.
“And will you let me do this ?”
Squeezing him through his boxers, I stroke up and down firmly, admiring the shape of him through the material.
“Fuuuck,” he gasps, arching his back and flexing in my grasp.
“Who is winning this game, do you think?”
“I think we both are…” Ciro palms my lower abdomen, pressing two fingers between my thighs, rubbing in just the right spot.
“I want to win over and over…” I moan softly, ready to let him bend me over the table.
Which is right about when a loud knock at the door interrupts us.
“Miss Sokolov?” A deep woman’s voice announces.
“Shit!” I curse, buttoning my pants and shoving Ciro away. He immediately stands to attention as the door swings open. “Come in.”
Mira folds her hands, looking a bit uncomfortable or possibly hiding a smile as she looks in. Ciro has the good sense to look dejected, downcast and ashamed like I was just dressing him down for messing up.
“I’ll deal with you later,” I grit out, stepping out into the hall. “What is it, Mira?”
“Your father needed to see you for a meeting. And also, he wanted you to assign this.”
She hands me a file, a couple of photos.
Looks like one of our shipping locales. And some unfamiliar faces giving the owner a hard time. Interesting.
“Shakal,” I snap, and he emerges from the closet, a hint of a glimmer in his eye. Oh, we are so not done with this.
“Mira, tell my father I will be there momentarily. And tell him I will take care of this. I have just the man for the job.”
“For me?” Ciro sniffs as Mira hustles away.
“Yes. It is time for you to do a real job. Matvey should be back by now. Get him and gear up.”
“I’ll see you later?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Maybe. If you don’t fuck this up.”