Chapter 3
Dima
“Well, unless your name actually translates to “The Witch” then yeah, she was talking to me.” The sassy little woman crosses her arms over her chest, planting her feet, and delight courses through my veins.
I can’t help but stare at her. My body knew who she was before I even laid eyes on her. Fire tore through me, not hot and uncomfortable, more warm and loving. There’s no other way to explain it. The pull toward her is so strong that for the first time ever, I want to abandon my mission.
I had stalked Glenn Leggat right to the railing he was standing at.
I was more than ready to take him to my home, to get revenge for the little souls he had taken, and then that’s when I heard that fat bald fucker threatening the dark haired woman.
I had seen her earlier and initially thought she was who my heart desired.
But when I looked at her I felt…nothing.
Nothing at all other than the need to protect her from someone wanting to do her harm.
And then she walked in.
Her black boots thudded on the concrete factory floor, the lilt of her voice too bright to be shrouded in the dark.
Leaning forward I caught my first glimpse of the woman who is haunting my dreams. Ethereal.
Passionate. Curious. So many words to describe her and yet none seems to quite capture not only what I’m seeing, but what I’m feeling.
I keep my gun on the slimy man in front of me, his foot still hovering in midair where I stopped him with my words alone, his flabby thigh shaking with the effort.
I ignore him, staring at the woman who has haunted my dreams. “My name is Dima, but I, too, am called Witch.”
Her beautiful hazel eyes, almost too large for her face, widen slightly before her mask slips back into place. “Aren’t male witches called warlocks?”
I lift one shoulder “Where I come from I’d be called a koldun. But that’s neither here nor there.” La Strega, that’s what the other woman called her, she opens her mouth as if to argue with me, and I welcome the challenge. I welcome anything this woman wants to offer me.
“What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck do you think you are, you Russian pig?” The fat man spits.
I shift my gaze to him, pissed that I’m having to look away from the woman. My woman, “I’m here for Glenn Leggat, but saw you getting pissy at her-” I wave toward the other woman in the room, the one that oozes power, the one that pisses off this little bald fucker, “-and thought I better step in.”
“What do you want with Glenn?” Fat fuck’s eyes narrow, ignoring my comment about the other woman, only worried about Glenn, and I start to wonder if he knows about his employee’s proclivities.
“Well, I was going to brutally and thoroughly anally rape him with a blunt object, but now that I’m here I may have changed my mind.”
La Strega cackles and my brain shorts out.
The sound is light, airy and full of joy, misplaced in a place like this.
She wanders to a stainless steel table in the middle of the room, placing her hands on it to boost herself up to sit.
She’s fucking tiny. No, not tiny. Short.
Tiny would suggest that her whole body is small, whereas hers is anything but.
Thick thighs that rub as she walks, a fantastically round ass and plump tits, she’s everything I could ever want wrapped up in a black, goth punk pixie package.
The short, bald man splutters, some spittle getting on my shirt. I look down at it, my lip curling involuntarily. La Strega, the little witch, giggles from her place on the metal table.
“Well, hot guy, you’ve surprised me,” she says, wagging her finger at me.
Tilting my head ever so slightly I glance between her and the other woman.
They’re not sisters, that much I can tell.
While both dark haired and clearly Mafia, there are no similarities between the two.
The one in charge, she’s poised. I could tell immediately that she was a Mafia woman, however she isn’t like any principessa I’ve ever come across, and I’ve come across a lot.
When I first arrived in the US, Sasha was already well ensconced in Bratva life.
Because I’m his little brother I was welcomed by Roman and his family fairly easily, especially once I showed my gift and how I could use it to further the business.
Once I was in I went to the parties, the arranged marriages between the Italians and us.
All the women were the same. Meek, perfect little carbon copies of each other.
Painfully thin, too much makeup, not a hair out of place.
Classy, poised, educated to please, much like the tall, dark haired woman, although she oozes more power and confidence than I’ve ever seen before.
But the woman who haunts me? The one my soul recognized immediately?
She’s different. She’s a puzzle. A beautiful mystery.
And one that takes glee in my plans to hurt and kill.
“So, are you going to tell us who you are? Or just eye fuck me all night?” She raises a dark brow and my lips tip up at her sass.
“Ooookay, looks like we’re going with the eye fucking option then,” she says, kicking her legs and hopping off the table, landing with her booted feet on the concrete floor.
“I’ll take it from here, hot guy. You can stay and watch, or you can go off and find the guy you want to anally rape, your call. ”
She pulls a gun far too large for her small body from the waistband at the back of her jeans, pointing it at the man who threatened the other woman. “Come on Giuseppe. If you’re lucky I’ll let you touch my tits before I kill you.”
A growl rips out of me at her words, her hazel eyes snapping to mine. They’re mesmerizing, the color changing from bright grass green to more dark forest as they watch me. “Why do they call you Witch?”
“Because I bewitch men and women with my feminine wiles before I kill them.” She grins wide, her crooked eye teeth making her appear younger than she is. “I have no gag reflex and a talented tongue.” To illustrate she flicks it in the air at me.
“She’s cursed,” a husky voice says, my head snapping toward the other woman. “She’s been surrounded by death since she was a child. Everyone she loves, dies.”
“Yeah, that too I guess,” La Strega replies, rolling her eyes. “Although you’re still around, so the curse isn’t as powerful as they say.” She pokes her tongue out. Fucking cute as well.
The other woman smiles gently. “Or you don’t love me.”
La Strega’s confident mask falters a little before it slips back into place. “Perhaps,” she says with a flippant shrug and a cheesy grin.
I watch the exchange quietly from my position somewhere between the shadows and light.
To my back is a wall, but to mine and Giuseppe’s left there is a door that would lead to his getaway.
Of which I’m sure that’s where he’s heading, inching closer by the minute, using La Strega and the other woman’s conversation as a distraction.
However, what he hasn’t noticed, but I have, is that the women are moving along with him.
Slowly creeping along the same path, not letting any distance come between them.
It’s utterly fascinating and who I thought were just spoiled Mafia women, I have a feeling there is a lot more to them.
I mean, it’s not hard to figure that out seeing as my little witch has a large gun pointed at the dead man walking. And yes, she is mine.
The two women share a look and La Strega’s face changes. Gone is her jovial manner, in its place is something colder, darker. She moves closer to Giuseppe, causing him to jerk before he starts howling.
“You fucking bitch!” he growls through clenched teeth, gripping his thigh where a small dagger is now imbedded.
“I know,” she says laughing at him before turning and winking at me. “Want to help me with this one, and I’ll help you with whoever this Glenn guy is?”
I study her beautiful face, the woman is an enigma. She not only wants to take care of this Giuseppe guy, but also help me with my target too. “Why would you want to do that?”
She glances at the woman over her shoulder before turning back to me, “What she said. Death is kinda my thing.”
La Strega
I stare up at Dima. The name suits him. It’s a hot as fuck name to go with the hot as fuck man in front of me. He’s huge, towering over me and Giuseppe, although that isn’t hard. I’m almost taller than Giuseppe and I’m only 5’2”.
I raise a brow, waiting for his answer. He’s weird, I’ll give him that, but even weird guys can be hot.
“Da, I’d like the company.”
Bubbles rise up in my belly, fizzing in excitement that not only do I get to share this with someone else, but I get to do it with a major hottie.
I wonder if killing makes him horny? My gaze roams down his long body, his swimmer’s build wrapped all in black like a nice little gift, all for me.
I want to moan when I get to the good part of him, the part that I can see thickening under my scrutiny.
A groan reaches my ears and my eyes snap to his bright blues, momentarily confused as to whether it was him or me that groaned.
“Well, now that business seems to be taken care of, I’m going to let myself out,” La Madrina says, a smirk on her lips.
I usually like the feel of her lips, but tonight I only have eyes for Dima’s. Thick, symmetrical, (that’s more important than people think) and surrounded by dark blonde stubble. I bet it would feel wonderful scraping my inner thighs as I ride his face.
She snorts, patting me on the shoulder as she walks past, “You deserve it, La Strega.”
My eyes snap to hers in confusion, “Deserve what?”
She leans closer, her breath ghosting over my face. “Everything that man represents. You see it as well as I do. Friendship. Loyalty. Love. You deserve that.”
I swallow. “You do too, Lucia. More than you know.” We share a long look.
She may have been a lover in the past, but she’s also a dear friend.
And this moment is getting too sappy. Clearing my throat, I give her a cheeky grin, “Now, get outta here before I get blood on your fancy Louboutins.” The gagging noise she makes has me giggling.
“Who is she to you?” Dima asks, head tilted, gaze intense as if he’s trying to read the secrets written on my soul. “I don’t think she’s your sister. Friend maybe?”
I watch him, mirroring his movements. There’s something about him that puts me at ease, and terrifies me in equal measure.
And makes me horny. Mustn’t forget that.
I guess I can throw him a bone if it means I can get into his pants later tonight.
“She’s both those things and more. She’s La Madrina, the godmother of the Mancini Mafia. ”
His eyes widen for a split second, before he leans to the side, looking at the door La Madrina just exited.
“Do you want to go run after her?” I bitch, shocked at the jealousy I feel. At the sour churn of my gut.
“No, she’s just older than I expected.”
I snort when his curious look morphs into shock and embarrassment, “Not that I meant it like that or anything.” He cringes, making me laugh more.
“Dude, she’s younger than I am.” I’m filled with glee as his eyes widen. I love the effect I have on him. I bet any other time he’s seen as dark, mysterious, dangerous. But here, I’m the dangerous one.
“For fuck’s sake, how much longer are you two going to flirt, my leg is fucking killing me!” Giuseppe whines, and I have to admit, I was having so much fun I had completely forgotten about the little bald loser.
I shake my head at him, “Giuseppe, are you actually wanting to die faster or something?” I tap the barrel of the gun to my lips, loving the way Dima’s eyes flare at the movement. “How much did you pay the hitman? I need to know for market research.”
“W-what hitman? I-” I pistol whip him, giggling when his jowls wobble with the movement.
“Come on now, Giuseppe. We both know you have a hitman just waiting to get rid of La Madrina. Well, not anymore. Say bye bye.”
He opens his mouth to argue but it’s too late as the bullet tears through his skull, his body hitting the ground in a wet, fleshy heap.
It’s odd how his face is frozen in repose and yet I know for a fact that he’s missing the whole back end of his head.
Blood swirls around him creating shapes, twists, turns that show the life he led and why I had to be the one to take it from him.
Whispers fill my mind with Giuseppe’s secrets, his dreams, his fears.
When I was a child I would cry out, terrified by what they told me.
Now? Well, now they tell me things that I can use to my advantage.
Things that grow my myth, that make me feared. That keep me safe.
Large black boots enter my periphery as I stare down listening to the soundtrack that was Giuseppe’s sad, gluttonous life.
Then I hear a whisper of something grotesque.
Abhorrent. Grotesque. Turning to the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life I know my night won’t be ending in the three mind blowing orgasms I was going to make him wring out of my body.
“The man, the one you’re looking for, Glenn?” He nods, blue eyes searching mine. “He’s been providing little girls for this piece of shit.” To make my point I stomp on Giuseppe’s lifeless balls.
“How do you know?” his eyes narrow, trying to get a read on me.
“You say you’re a witch?” He dips his chin, “you got powers or just make potions and shit?”
His lips twitch slightly. “I have the sight. I find missing souls who need to be brought home. Or to kneel. Either or.”
I stare into his eyes, trying to find the lie in what he told me and when I don’t find it I decide to share my truth.
“They tell me,” I look down at Giuseppe. “Or, something tells me. As soon as their heart stops I hear their secrets.”
I peek up at him, expecting judgement? Disgust? Not what’s staring back at me. Awe. Pure awe.
“Ty sovershénna.”
“Huh?”
“You’re perfect,” he whispers.
“Oh.” I stare up at him, gun heavy in my hand and yet all I can feel is warmth, radiating through me, directed at the man-witch gazing down at me. “Do you want to fuck?”