Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“MASQUERADE” BY EUPHORIA, BOLSHIEE
IRIS
Iswallow bile as I look over the outfit that is laid out on my bed for tonight.
I’ve showered and done my hair and make-up as instructed; smoky eyes and tumbling waves.
Reaching out, I stroke the gauzy black fabric, its silkiness at odds with the way it makes me cringe.
Any other time, I’d relish wearing this beautiful garment for my Shadows and Nik, but not tonight.
Tonight it will put me on show, allow all the other men present to see any part of me they desire.
I’ll be utterly exposed, which no doubt was Sergi’s intention.
Heaving a sigh, I take hold of the garment and put it on, the whisper of black silk chiffon falling to my bare feet.
Turning, I look at myself in the mirror and want to cry.
I look beautiful, sexy, and under other circumstances, I’d feel like a goddess.
The translucent fabric falls in soft waves from under my bust to kiss the floor, giving teasing glimpses of my thighs and my sex.
My nipples are entirely visible through the fabric that barely covers my breasts and thin straps sit on my shoulders, almost hidden by my hair.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I reach for the jet-black Louboutin peep toe stilettos, their red soles adding a splash of colour to my monochrome outfit.
In another life, these shoes would have maybe excited me, the brand one that the girls at Wyndham’s Finishing School for Young Ladies coveted.
Now though, I decide that if—when—I do get out of this, I’m never wearing anything black again, even if the shoes cost thousands.
My door opens just as I’m getting to my feet, my eyes widening to see Sergi striding in, his eyes raking over me and burning a path across my skin that leaves me feeling even more nauseated.
“You look perfect, Kukolka,” he purrs, and I want to throw up as his fingers reach out and trail down the side of my breast. A shudder of revulsion runs over my body now each time Sergi calls me it. “Just need your jewellery.”
My lip trembles as he brings out from behind his back the collar he put on me the night he took me from my Shadows. The lead is attached, and with the hand that just stroked my breast, he twirls his finger, telling me to turn around.
Taking a deep inhale, I do as instructed, sweeping my hair to one side.
“Such a perfect Kukolka.” Sergi’s breath against the back of my neck leaves goosebumps pebbling all over my skin, and not the good kind. No, these are the kind that warn you of a predator about to strike.
My breathing turns shallow as he wraps the leather around my throat, tightening the buckle just a little too much so I feel it every time I swallow or take a breath.
Always such a control freak. The tinkling of the lead against the collar has me fighting a shiver.
I know that sound will haunt me for the rest of my life.
He doesn’t say anything else, just tugs the lead, and I follow in his footsteps as he leads me out of my room towards the front of the mansion.
He doesn’t adjust his pace, forcing me to wobble on heels I’m not used to yet as we make our way down the stairs.
Nik is at the bottom, Andrei and Dima either side of him, and the rage that fills his eyes is enough to set the house on fire.
I look away, unable to hold his gaze, my cheeks heating with shame as my shoulders hunch.
There’s a thickness in my throat that won’t go away, no matter how much I try to swallow, which this fucking collar prevents anyway.
Dark spots start to dot my vision, and I just can’t get enough air into my screaming lungs.
Sergi doesn’t stop, just pulls me along behind him, and as we pass Nik, a brush of his fingertips against my own is enough to have my shallow breaths deepening a little.
Once we step outside, the cool night air also helps to ground me, stopping a panic attack from overtaking me.
I can feel warmth at my back, the scent of juniper, black pepper, and vetiver telling me it’s Nik behind me.
There’s a limo waiting in the driveway, and Sergi tugs me after him, placing me next to him.
Nik and his two men enter afterwards, all three of them taking the bench seat opposite us.
Then Nik reaches over, grabbing two of the already filled champagne flutes that are on a sort of minibar at the end.
“Father,” Nik states, handing Sergi one flute, then holding out the other for me. “Iris.”
I take it, our fingers brushing and sending electricity racing across my skin.
“Thank you,” I whisper, sipping the cool liquid and letting the bubbles tickle my throat.
Sergi starts up a conversation in Russian, completely dismissing me as he often does when we’re with anyone else.
I’m grateful, because having his full attention never works out well for me.
I sit there, sipping my champagne and thinking about what it will be like to see the Shadows again.
Will they notice some of the bruises that decorate my skin?
Will they be as pissed as Nik clearly was to see Sergi’s collar on me?
My stomach swirls the longer we drive, regretting the alcohol as worry plagues my mind.
This is going to be a challenge, and the worst part will be having to go back with Sergi, knowing what awaits when we get back to the mansion.
The limo, which wasn’t exactly going very fast due to London traffic, pulls up in front of a townhouse.
There’s nothing particularly identifying about it, just the usual white stone and black metal railings.
There is a liveried doorman in front of the large painted door, the only sign that this might not just be a normal house.
A blast of fresh air hits me as the door to the limo is opened, Dima getting out, then Nik, Andrei, and finally Sergi who tugs on my lead so I’m forced to follow. I shiver as the night air wraps its chilly embrace around me, feeling Nik’s warmth close to me a second later as if he knew I was cold.
Sergi doesn’t wait, one of his men leading the way up the stone steps, the doorman opening the door to give us entry. More warmth surrounds me when I step inside the house and find a beautifully lit entrance hall, chequered tiles on the floor, and some kind of patterned black silk lining the walls.
“Good evening, Mr. Petrov and Mr. Petrov,” a feminine voice greets, and I look beyond Sergi to see a stunning redhead dressed in an evening gown.
“We just need to check for weapons as a precaution.” A huge man steps forward, running a wand over all the guys, nodding when nothing happens.
“Excellent. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you upstairs. ”
Sergi doesn’t even bother greeting her or acknowledging her at all, and clearly Nik follows suit because we walk behind the woman, no one saying a word.
My pulse is fast, a sense of breathlessness overcoming me as we walk up the carpeted stairs to the next floor.
More doors are opened for us, and I blink as we step into a brighter space, though still tastefully lit, the scent of cigar smoke cloying and making my eyes water a little.
We are led to a table in the centre, some of the seats already taken, and my heart damn near stops when I lock gazes with bright emerald eyes.
“THROUGH THE FIRE” BY EUPHORIA, BOLSHIEE
HUNTER
It’s like the entire world stops spinning when I look into her wide hazel eyes, longing ripping through me with enough force to stop the breath in my lungs.
She looks so fucking gorgeous, the brief glimpse of her translucent dress instantly hardening my cock in my tux trousers as a mixture of rage and lust war within me.
I hate that anyone else is seeing her like this, knowing that she probably had very little choice in what she wore tonight adding to my anger.
Rowan’s deep growl draws my gaze to her slender neck where that fucking collar sits, a ring of bruises just under it that has red flashing across my vision for a moment.
Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I spot the silver lead that’s attached to it, the other end wrapped around Sergi’s fist. My lip curls as I meet his shit-brown gaze, his lips pulled up in a smug smile even as his nostrils flare.
“What are these Ubludoki doing here?” he spits, and Lucifer stills, who is also at our table, menace radiating from his masked face.
“Are you questioning who I am allowed to invite to my game, Sergi Petrov?” he questions, his voice sending forbidding shivers down my spine.
I’m not scared of many people, but Lucifer and the rest of the Fallen make my hackles rise the way they would when you look up to find three tigers staring back at you, waiting to pounce.
“Of course not, Lucifer,” Sergi replies in a measured tone, taking a seat but keeping ahold of that fucking lead.
I’m glad we weren’t allowed to bring weapons, because I’m pretty sure Rowan would have launched himself across the table and removed Sergi’s hand by now if he’d brought one of his knives.
“Excellent. Shall we begin?” Lucifer suggests, nodding to the dealer who deals us our cards.
The game is good old-fashioned Texas Hold ‘Em, something I’m pretty familiar playing as there wasn’t much else to do growing up but gamble with shit like dares with the twins.
We didn’t have any money, so had to be inventive.
It’s how Roman got me to give him our first kiss, the sneaky bastard.
Refocusing back on the game, I place my bet. Luckily we’re rich motherfuckers now, so we brought almost everything we had spare in the hopes that it might somehow get Iris back.