Chapter 14 Vaughn
VAUGHN
“Where were you?”
I startle at my father’s distinct voice, my hand pausing on the doorknob in the near darkness of my living room.
Fuck.
Shit.
Finding my dad waiting for me at my place close to two in the morning is not a good sign.
Schooling my expression, I turn around to face him.
He’s sitting on the couch, phone in hand, as my mother rests her head on his thigh, fast asleep.
Double fuck. Both of them are here.
I pull out my phone and frown at the string of texts from Lidya.
Uncle Kirya is mad.
Just kidding, he’s super mad. He mentioned reckless and irresponsible. I never thought I’d hear those words about you.
Prayers for you, Vonnie. Will become the most badass leader on your behalf when you’re dead.
No, seriously, even Aunt Sasha is struggling to calm him down, and you know that’s almost impossible. She’s also worried about you. Can you believe it? You made your parents WORRIED.
They’re right, though. What’s going on, and why am I not in on your schemes? I thought we were bros.
Or cousins or whatever.
It would’ve helped if I’d received her texts while I was trying to calm myself during the six-hour flight from the island to New York.
Didn’t work, by the way.
Because every time I closed my eyes, all I could picture was brown, blue, the rough, shaky breaths, the masculine, woodsy scent, and the rush of adrenaline all the way to the base of my spine—
“You have something to say for yourself?” Dad’s low but firm tone pulls me out of the unorthodox thoughts I ran away from but still couldn’t eradicate.
“Maybe you should go to sleep,” I reply in a calm tone. “Mom doesn’t look too comfortable.”
“The only reason your mother is uncomfortable is because you seem to be taking these sudden trips out of New York without informing us beforehand.”
I swallow, walking toward him, basically forcing myself not to turn around and leave.
Confrontation with my dad—and my parents in general—isn’t at the top of my favorite things to do.
My father, Kirill Morozov, is a fair man who’s dedicated to his family, but he’s also the leader of the New York Bratva, and that comes with certain shackles.
As I sit across from him, I notice once again just how similar we look. Mom always says her genes never really fought back. Except for my eyes that look like hers, I got everything else from my dad—the sharp jawline, the dark hair, and the same expression.
Dad is the older, wiser version of me, and one of my role models—the other one is my mom.
He places his phone next to him, his other hand wrapped around my mother’s back as he pins me down with his eyes. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
“For what?”
“Don’t play dumb. We both know tonight is the second time in two weeks you’ve taken a sudden trip outside of our territory, where you’re the safest.”
I let out a breath, but it does nothing to expel the weight that’s pressing down on my shoulders due to his words. “I just wanted to pay the guys a visit.”
“You’ve always told us beforehand when you wanted to visit your friends, but not this time.
We’re both aware that this is out of the norm, but it’s irresponsible of you, Vaughn.
Without the right security in place, you could’ve gotten kidnapped, or worse, assassinated.
Have you thought of what that could entail for the family?
For me and your mother? Have you thought of the consequences? ”
“I’m sorry.” The words feel heavier than the air.
He’s right. I could’ve gotten killed. Yes, the Heathens have good security in place on the island, but traveling there and back had less security than I’m used to.
I didn’t plan this accordingly.
Not like I usually do.
Because two weeks ago, I wanted to see him, so I just went. Earlier today, I also needed to see him, so off I went.
It doesn’t matter what excuses I told myself—so that he wouldn’t get involved with Niko, so I could teach him a lesson.
The fact remains, I indulged in an impulsive action because I wanted to see Yulian.
And what did that get me?
More confusion.
More regrets.
More fucking hunger.
“I don’t want to scold you.” Dad releases a sigh. “And I certainly don’t want to treat you like a kid, when you’re more adult than some middle-aged men in the organization, but you and I are fully aware this isn’t like you, son. Care to tell me the reason?”
An asshole with mismatched eyes I can’t seem to erase from my head.
I can’t tell Dad that, though, so I remain silent.
“Is it because of the breakup with Danika?” He softens his voice. “I know you’ve been together for years, so whatever misunderstanding you two had can be worked out if you want to try.”
“There’s no misunderstanding here, Dad. She cheated, and I’ll never get back with her.” My voice is firm and clear, but then I peek at him. “Do you want me to?”
“Doesn’t matter what I want when it’s your love life, but I will say I wouldn’t be thrilled if you were with someone who wasn’t loyal to you.”
I smile. “Then you won’t have to worry, because she’s history.”
“Good.” He nods. “If it’s not Danika, then what is it? What’s the reason behind this change?”
“It’s not…” I trail off because if I said there was no change, I’d be lying, and Dad would figure that out in a heartbeat. “I’ve been thinking about transferring to The King’s U.”
He raises a brow. “All of a sudden?”
“It’s not all of a sudden, really. All my friends are there, and Danika, for whom I stayed in New York, is a footnote.”
“Don’t let your mother hear that. She thinks you stayed for us.”
“I did,” I say softly.
“But?”
“But I want something different. Even if only for a year or two. Will you…allow it?”
“There’s no reason why I wouldn’t if that’s what you want. Besides, it always struck me as odd that you didn’t follow Jeremy and the others there. Your mom might need more convincing, though. You know she’d hate not living on the same continent as you.”
“It’s not that I want to go right away…”
“You want to have the option,” he finishes for me, and I nod, smiling.
I’ve always loved how Dad and I get along, to the point of finishing each other’s sentences, because we’re both thinkers and very much goal-oriented.
Only, right now, the path to my goal, inheriting his position, is being muddied by a complication that I should’ve squashed a long time ago.
But I didn’t.
And now, it’s there to haunt me.
“Let me know when you want to go, and for the sake of all that’s holy, do inform us of your visits to the island.”
I nod.
He stands up and lifts Mom in his arms bridal style. “I’ll get your mother home.”
“You can stay in the guest room.”
“It’s fine. We prefer our room.” He stares at Mom. “Come for breakfast so you can have the same talk with your mother.”
I nod and smile as he carries her out of the house with effortless ease.
After they’re gone, I get into the shower and take the iciest one I’ve ever had, until my bones freeze and my fingertips turn blue.
And yet no amount of cold can dispel the memories that rush through my head with every splash of water.
Rough hands, soft lips, hard muscles, and low, growly whispers.
Punching and kissing and choking and jerking and coming—
“Fuck.” I drive my fist into the wall, wet strands falling onto my forehead as the water beats down on my tense shoulders.
My cock twitches despite the cold, and I groan, because seriously, what in the actual fuck?
I’m nineteen years old, and I’ve never had an orgasm as intense as the one I had in Yulian’s hand.
I’ve kissed many girls, but I’ve never felt a more out-of-body experience than when I was devouring Yulian, biting and licking and sucking and drinking his blood.
And I want more.
Of his lips and hands and fucking blood.
I want to suck him dry.
But I can’t. Because that’s not part of the plan.
He isn’t part of the plan.
Even if my body protests profusely at the thought of not having that experience again.
But screw my body. I’ve lived just fine up until now, having good enough sexual intercourse. That’s all I’ll be getting back to.
Not some rough touches and a fight for dominance and an orgasm so stimulating, I can’t stop thinking about it.
With another curse, I turn off the shower and get into bed, my tablet in hand. I go through some of the information I have my hackers send me on the regular, just in case we’ve come up with any dirt on the other factions.
My father taught me that the best defense is offense. The more we can win without spilling a drop of blood, the better it is.
So we need dirt. Consider it a preemptive strike of sorts.
After a while, I turn off the light and stare at the dark ceiling. Sleep doesn’t come.
Despite the fact that I need to wake up early to visit my parents. Despite my continuous thoughts that I need to rest.
It’s almost as if my brain is on a high, my body’s restless, and my soul is in shreds.
I pick up my phone and swallow when I see the text from Yulian.
It’s been there since about an hour after I left.
Yes, I went to the airport as soon as I walked out on Yulian, not even telling Jeremy and the others.
I needed to get out of there before I hunted down the bane of my existence and indulged in more impulsive actions.
Part of me says not to open the text, block him, and pretend he doesn’t exist.
But that’s never worked for me before.
With a deep inhale, I click on the text, and a video appears in which Yulian is lying on his back, holding up the phone, revealing his face and some of his naked torso.
There’s a red bruise on his cheek, my doing, because he was being a creepy asshole about the whole feeling-me-inside-Danika thing.
But you came because of it, so what does that make you?
My gaze trails down to the defined ridges of his muscular chest, right above his left pectoral muscle, where he has a single tattooed sentence in neat Cyrillic.
Я с тобой (Ya s toboy).
I’m with you.
I noticed it the other day in another video, but I’m not sure what it means, and it probably has a meaning since it’s the only tattoo on his chest.
“You know, it’s rude to leave a man lying on the forest floor with a massive erection.” He pouts. “I gave you a hand, so the least you could’ve done was reciprocate. Give and take, you know. A very simple concept.”
I scoff, because he’s playing the victim so well, feigning a wounded expression and everything.
“How did I take care of the problem? I’m glad you asked, Mishka. I just jerked off in the shower, picturing your beautiful face when you came all over my hand. Kind of contemplated not washing it for days, just so I could feel your cum, but that wouldn’t have been feasible, unfortunately.”
“Creep,” I mutter.
“You just thought I was creepy as fuck, right?” He grins.
“I am, so not denying that. But admit it—part of you likes that. You were so fucking tight and wound up in my arms. You know, if you hadn’t run away, I would’ve come in my pants.
I’m open to trying again whenever you feel like dropping by, let’s say next week?
Or tomorrow if you like. I’ll keep my calendar open for you.
“You just thought I talked a lot, didn’t you?
But listen, this is for your own good. I need to give you pointers now that you’re exploring your sexuality.
Consider me your tutor of sorts. There’s no need to put a label on it—bi or gay or anything in between doesn’t really matter.
Just do what you love.” He lifts a hand.
“I’ll volunteer to be your sex coach. I’m the best in the market and can provide testimonials if you wish. ”
I scoff.
“I bet you just glared or sneered at me. That’s okay. I know you don’t take me seriously; no one does. But my offer remains. Have sweet dreams, Mishka. I will dream of your beautiful, huge cock against mine. Hopefully, I won’t come in my sleep.”
He winks and the video ends.
Usually, I’d curse him or get annoyed, but right now, I just turn to my side and look at his face, wondering why the fuck I’m attracted to a man.
But not just any man.
The only man I shouldn’t want.
Because this morbid attraction would end both our lives in a heartbeat.
And I need to stop it before it starts.
Just like I did four years ago.