Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LOCH
Raising a round of vodka shots, we toast our newest queen.
Albeit he’s a queen in a fine black designer suit, with the height and muscles to fill it, and a Texas drawl that’s even finer.
“Why, thank y’all.” Zar entices us with his drawl. “I’m fit to be tied over this.” Wrapping his arm around Nick’s waist, he nibbles my brother’s neck. “Right? Y’all tie me up for my initiation?”
“If you want.” Nick kisses Zar, their tongues meeting, and something in me stirs.
Maybe it’s the memory of our last initiation years ago—Delphine’s. I lost my virginity, right there on my brother Axel’s behemoth boardroom table.
He uses this massive room in his stately law office for meetings, while we use it for initiating queens.
It begins with a warm gathering, anointed by a sacred ceremony, consummated by an erotic bond.
Together, we made Delphine a queen. First, we watched Grant become her king, then I, her second king, then my brothers, all but Nick, shared her. It’s what Delphine moaned for. And we always give our queens what they desire.
Or maybe I’m feeling Nick and Zar’s love.
It’s more potent than their lust. As an NFL player, Nick isn’t out.
It’s been a lonely place for him. I used to go to his home games so he’d have someone who loved him cheering him on.
Then he found Zar. He found a love he’ll fight for, come out for.
It’s a matter of time until they’re finally free to love publicly.
But maybe what stirs inside me is the void. The fact that my love, Alena, isn’t here. She’ll never be initiated. I’ll never be like my brothers; a king, making his queen.
Not that I’ll share Alena.
Not that I want to fuck anyone else.
But it’s the bond we form, the kings and queens. I wish Alena could feel it.
It’s sacred. Unspoken. Unquestioning. Like the bond I formed with Delphine to protect her and any children she may have with Grant.
It seems like an erotic fairy tale, not a dark reality, until you’ve survived it. Or in our case, escaped it.
What Maxim did, giving his life for my mom, my brothers, and me so we could escape our father, I’d do it for Delphine.
But who’ll do it for Alena if something happens to me? Sure, she’s Nash’s daughter. He’ll protect her, but she’ll never have a second king.
We’ll never be like Sire and Wren.
I hear Wren will be next. Once Sire marries her, she’ll pick her second king, and she’ll be initiated. She’ll belong. She’ll feel it, trust it, thrive with the kings and queens who love her.
But what about Alena?
I want her to have this too.
It’s sweet how Delphine and Zar huddle, laughing with their inside jokes as queens. It’s cute how Delphine and Jace gang up on Grant and give him shit. Or how Nick laughs at Zar, who’s teasing Sire about becoming his second king tonight.
This is a room full of love, and I feel left out.
For me and for Alena.
The only brother who must know how I feel is Axel. He stands, stoically, no doubt remembering how his queen was our first. How he tried to love her, but she left him.
It makes me understand his icy edges. Underneath, he’s hiding a warm, wounded heart.
“Where’s Nash?” I murmur to Jace, appearing beside me.
“Watching Wren.” He sets his shot glass down on the credenza, laden as a Zakusi table—a traditional Russian spread of salads, caviar, pate, breads, pickled vegetables, and more.
“Watching Wren?” I parrot my brother.
“Yeah.” With a toothpick, Jace stabs a marinated mushroom, chomping on it, explaining, “Sire won’t leave Wren unguarded. I think he’s jockeying for Nash to be her second king. So, it makes sense.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, worried my plan is already shot to shit. “So, Nash is missing an initiation?”
“He’ll be here later. Once Sire initiates Zar and goes home to Wren.” Jace shoves another shroom in his mouth, chewing like a cow with its cud, reading my worry. “Why? Where’s Alena?”
“With Mom at The Mercier.”
Jace nods. He gets it. Of course, Mom’s subterfuge to protect Alena while all the kings are busy involves a weekend spa getaway.
“How’s your little secret?” Jace asks, half giving me shit, half caring deeply.
“About as well as yours.” I pop a blini—a thin pancake topped with caviar and sour cream—in my mouth. “Eck.” And spit it back out into a napkin. “Goddamn, that shit is nasty.”
Jace laughs. “You’re not a real Russian.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, hiding my twinge of pain, of all the ways I don’t belong. “Tell that to our dickhead father. Then maybe he’ll leave Alena and me the fuck alone.”
Jace elbows me, and I glance around, making sure no one overheard.
They didn’t. They’re too busy preparing for the ceremony. It’s inspired by a Russian Orthodox wedding.
I sit on my throne, the last and seventh in a line of intricately gilded wooden chairs with black velvet seats. They blend in with Axel’s penchant for antique furniture in his office.
No one would know their true purpose as we watch Axel and Sire perform the ceremony uniting Nick, a king, with Zar, his queen.
It makes Nick tear up as they recite their sacred vows. It makes Zar cup Nick’s scruffy cheek, reverently joining our family.
I get over myself, entranced by their love, then, aroused when they consummate it.
Nick’s my brother. His nudity means nothing to me.
But Zar? When he strips his suit off, I’m man enough to admit when another is beautiful. And I’m a Dom who can’t hide my kink for anyone’s pleasure.
Zar’s is obvious. He lies, moaning, naked on his back, his legs open, his cock soaring hard with each ferocious thrust from my brother, who’s fucking him on the boardroom table.
When Zar sees us, watching him being made into our queen, there’s trust in his eyes. An intimacy. An intensity. An indelible bond we’re forming without a touch.
“Whose ass is this?” Nick kisses him, taunting with his fuck.
“Yours, my king.” Zar’s words are strained. “Oh fuck, it’s yours. Harder. Oh fuck, baby, you’re making me come.”
“I’m gonna shoot my load so fucking deep in you,” Nick vows. “Show them. Show your kings how much you love me.”
Nick comes, and hands free, it makes Zar orgasm, too, white ropes of his semen, spurting over his shredded abs and dark, pleasure trail.
Fuck, it’s hot.
I adjust my erection.
In my periphery, I catch Jace and Sire doing the same. We’re all men, very confident in our sexuality, very protective of anyone else’s.
Our mom raised us to shame Shame.
She suffered enough of it. As a victim. As a survivor. Shame is a source of violence, not virtue. We know better.
This sex is love. It’s beautiful to watch Sire join Zar and Nick in the second ceremony. It’s touching to witness Sire vow to be Zar’s second king. It’s undeniably erotic, watching Sire mount Zar from behind. It’s what Zar wants.
We all know about Sire’s breeding kink. I guess as the first son, as the true heir, it’s deep in Sire’s psyche, and Zar wants it. He begs Sire to breed him, to fuck his ass while Zar kneels, ass up and bent over, sucking Nick’s cock too.
Nick lies down for it, lifting his head so he can watch his love receive his second king.
Their sweating, naked bodies are on Axel’s boardroom table, threatening to break it.
It creaks from their manly fuck as I glance over and see Delphine on her knees.
She’s fingering herself while sucking Grant’s Blow Pop, as usual, but her other hand is stroking off Jace seated beside Grant. She’s giving Jace relief too.
Axel’s on his first throne. He’s hard; he can’t hide it under his black pants, but he’s fighting the urge, his fists clenching the arms of his throne.
Damn, I’m like a mirror of him.
I feel it too.
Hot fucking bodies release intoxicating pheromones. They enter the air, your nose, then your bloodstream, drawing out an illicit sexual response. Bypassing reason, all you feel is the animal inside that needs to breed and bond. It’s natural. It’s how we’ve survived.
God, I wish Alena could feel this.
I wish I could share this with her. Some way. Somehow.
She’s not the innocent princess everyone thinks she is. She rides my cock like a fucking queen. Becoming so proud of her pleasure, of showing it off.
She’s perfect for me. For us.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.” Nick palms Zar’s skull while he takes his length. “That’s it. Suck Daddy’s dick.”
Zar moans for more, so Sire grabs his hips.
His fuck is so brutal as he taunts, “Suck your king’s cock while you take mine in the ass.
You love it, don’t you? Letting us take care of you.
” Zar grunts in reply, and Sire praises, “Good fucking boy,” as he pounds him even harder, making Zar’s cock bounce, heavy, ready.
“Come on. Feel our love,” Sire urges him.
“Take our cocks like our queen and come for us.”
With his eyes on Nick, Zar groans at his orgasm, painting the boardroom table with his cum. Nick sits up, pulling him into a deep kiss as Sire reverently kisses Zar’s sweaty back.
Wren’s not here. Not yet. She hasn’t been initiated, but I’m sure Sire’s told her about his bisexuality, about our secrets and lives. One day, she’ll join us. She’ll be his queen.
I’m happy for Sire, for all my brothers, but it only makes my last throne lonelier.
Across the room, there are seven white velvet thrones for our queens, and I guess the one across from mine will always be empty. Like my soul, it belongs to Alena. It makes me quiet, my dick deflating. My heart, heavy with a burden only I bear.
After they zip up and clean, I force my smile as Axel pours another round of vodka shots. We take them, exchanging congratulatory hugs.
“Hey.” A heavy hand cups my shoulder. “You alright?”
I turn and face Sire. We haven’t had a chance to talk. I’m staying with Axel to give Sire his privacy with Wren. She hasn’t met me yet.
“Yeah, man. I’m fine.”
With his eyes studying mine, Sire stuffs a blini into his mouth. He’s a true Russian; he lives for caviar, grinning with his mouth full. “Liar.”
“It’s my job, right?” My throat burns. “A professional liar?”
He swallows, the ink on his face wrinkling with his worry. “You’re not a liar, Loch. You’re the noblest of all of us.”
“Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like I’m the worst one.”
Sire doesn’t know what to say. Not even his scripture can change my reality, so I ask, “Did you tell Wren who you are? Who we are?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Told her a few days ago.”
“And she didn’t hate you?”
“No.” His eyes warm. “She only loves me more.”
I suck my teeth, more determined. “Good to know.”
Sire reads me, lowering his voice and brows. “Brother, it’s for Nash to tell Alena about us, not you.”
I fume, “Love tells the truth. If her dad won’t do it, I will.”
“Not yet,” he warns. “The family needs to discuss it.”
“Our family has lied to her her entire life.”
His nostrils flare. “For her protection. Do I need to remind you why?”
No, he doesn’t.
I remember the man who invaded our home. My mom was babysitting Alena. She was a toddler when a stranger tried to abduct her from her crib, but my mom fought him off.
I tried to help, fighting to protect Alena and my mom, but I was a little kid. I couldn’t win. We fought him until Nash got there and lived up to his name. He gnashed the man’s throat open before choking him to death.
We never knew who the man was.
A deranged stranger, a pedophile, kidnapping girls.
An enemy we’d made through our vigilante work here.
Or a Bratva soldier, sent by my father.
But that’s what started Alena’s protection. Ever since, my brothers have made sure of it, while I’ve felt born to do it.
Sire reads my silence, yanking me into a hug. “Hang in there, man. We’ll talk soon,” he promises before leaving. He lives two blocks away and can’t get home to Wren fast enough.
Then Nick and Zar leave with Grant and Delphine, who insisted on celebrating her fellow queen with a late-night dinner.
Thirty minutes later, Nash joins Jace and me with Axel in his imposing office.
We’re gathered in leather chairs, cognac snifters in hand, when I decide to fight for Alena.
And win this time.