Viktor shook his head. "I was the first," he said. He pressed his thumb into the middle of his palm. "When this is over, I'm going to stake my claim. She won't like it, me being gone so long, but..." He shrugged. His features were hard. Implacable.
Casimir didn't think that boded very well for his woman. "Does this woman know she's been claimed?"
"She'd better know it," Viktor said.
"Really?" Lissa asked, her voice innocent. Too innocent. The sheer arrogance of the man rubbed her the wrong way. "So you kept in touch with her for the past... how long have you been undercover? Five years?"
Viktor narrowed his gaze. "Deep undercover means no communicating with the outside world that might put someone you care about in jeopardy."
Lissa nodded. Casimir shifted closer to her, uncertain what exactly was taking place between his wife and his brother.
"So this woman of yours knew you were going undercover."
"Wife. My fucking wife."
Lissa's eyebrows shot up and her fingers tightened around Casimir's. Glancing down at her, he realized she was angry. "Your wife then. You told her you were going deep undercover, right? There were ways you would let her know you weren't dead."
"She knows."
"Good. Otherwise she might be dating someone else, or maybe, if she didn't know she was already someone's wife, married to someone else."
Viktor went still. Scary still. The room shuddered. "That happens, sister, and her new husband won't have long for this world."
"Not a good idea to leave a woman alone for five years, brother," Lissa continued, "especially if she's smokin' hot. And a runner. She goes running down the highway and she's bound to stop traffic and then where are you going to be? Oh wait. I know. Somewhere deep undercover while she's all alone and lonely. Surrounded by men who think she's smokin' hot, because she is."
"What the hell, Giacinta?" Casimir demanded.
Beside him, Lissa moved restlessly, drawing Viktor's sharp gaze. Lissa looked down at her wedding ring, the band that was tucked up tight against the diamond he'd given her earlier in the day.
"I just wouldn't want you to ever do that kind of thing to me, Casimir," Lissa said. "I wouldn't be in the least understanding, and I'm a little outraged on all my fellow sisters' behalf."
There was a small silence, Viktor staring down at her face for a long moment before he sighed and changed the subject. "Tell me about the farm. You live there, right? Where my brothers live?"
Her gaze jumped to his face. "They're happy." Her voice was strictly neutral. "Even Gavriil. He's still in a lot of pain, but Lexi is working with that and hopes to alleviate it, at least most of it. All of them are doing well."
Casimir waited, but Lissa didn't mention her other sisters. He took a breath and then let it out. The temperature in the room had gone up a couple of degrees. That wasn't his brother's temper. That was Lissa.
"Your brothers are going to want to know what your life is like."
"My life?" Viktor echoed. "Baby, my life is totally fucked, but I put myself there and I'm going to get the job done no matter what. Then I'll go claim my life." There was no bitterness in his voice, only a statement of fact.
Casimir knew that no matter how bad they might think Viktor's situation was it was probably a hundred times worse, or he would have at least contacted his brothers. "You know the Sorbacovs have a hit out on all of us, Ilya included."
"I heard. I know that you told Lazzaro that your woman planned to go with you to take them out for us."
Viktor didn't sound in the least approving. In fact, he sounded like a freaking male chauvinist. Just looking at him, seeing the hard, set lines in his face, she could see he was implacable. He'd be hell to live with. Difficult to understand. And he wouldn't care. His woman would be expected to live life his way. On his terms.
Lissa's fingers tightened in Casimir's. "Actually, Casimir is going with me," she corrected, her chin going up. "We figured with him along the chances were better that we'd get them both and walk away alive."
"You do that, call Lazzaro. He'll be waiting for that call and he'll get the two of you out of the country fast if you need it. He's more than willing to help, and he's one of the few we can absolutely count on."
Casimir nodded, not bothering to correct his woman. He'd been planning all along to kill the Sorbacovs. He still wasn't certain he liked the idea of Lissa going with him and taking center stage, but he knew there was no dissuading her. She had a stubborn streak and she'd made up her mind, even more so now that she knew he had planned to get rid of them.
"These men backing you up, Viktor. You're sure of their loyalty?"
Viktor nodded. "They grew up with me. We're all that's left of the old school. Eighteen of us from one hundred and thirty. We stuck by one another in training and after. The strongest, all psychics, all men Kostya Sorbacov couldn't control. He was afraid of every one of us. One by one, the others slipped Kostya's leash and signed on with me. Our target was the president of the motorcycle club called Sword. The club started in the United States but now has chapters in Europe. He ran drugs, arms and was the number one suspect across Europe for human trafficking. He's originally from Greece. His mother took him and ran to the United States to get away from her husband. She ran with the club in the States, and he detested her man. Actually, her man's son. When I say detested him, I mean, he thinks about killing him every minute of every hour of every day. The target inherited a shitload of money from his brother and with that, the ships to help hide the worst of his trafficking, and that includes children."
Lissa pulled in a breath. "You're talking about Evan Shackler-Gratsos. Airiana and Max rescued four children from one of his ships. They say he's a ghost."
"He's no ghost. Word is, he wants to kill Jackson Deveau himself. He put the word out that no one else can touch him. He'll have to come out of the shadows to make his try and then we'll have him."
"You're telling us this because?" Casimir said. "Deep undercover is for your protection, Viktor, not just those you care about. You shouldn't have said a word of this to us, or anyone else."
"I don't get the fucker, you tell Gavriil and the others. They have to get him." His gaze lingered on Lissa's face. "You know enough to keep your mouth shut until there's no other way."
Lissa nodded slowly. Casimir could see that she was more inclined to feel favorably toward Viktor, although she still had a look in her eyes that indicated she wanted to rip into him and the temperature in the room hadn't gone down in the least.
"Viktor, these men you have with you, are you certain they'll stand with you? You take down the president of a club that size and you're vulnerable. The members know you. They know your face. You've ridden with them for five years. Say you manage it, what's to say they don't come after you a year from now, and you're hunted, just like the Sorbacovs are hunting us now."
"They'll stand with me. They've always stood with me." Something crossed his face. Something dark and sinister. In that moment, Viktor looked every inch of what he was - what he'd been shaped into. It was dark and it was ugly. "That school, Casimir..." He shook his head. "We had to hold on to something or we would have died like the rest of them. We had to trust one another. We've been doing that since we were boys. They're solid. They'll stand with me, before it's done. While we're getting it done and after. They'll be with me."
"After?" Casimir echoed.
"We'll get this last job done, and if you do manage to rid the world of the Sorbacovs, we'll finally be free."
"The club will send someone after you, Viktor," Casimir repeated.
Viktor shrugged, his face hard, eyes dead and flat. "Let them. Sea Haven isn't their territory. They can't just ride around openly with their colors and not get retaliation from the local clubs. We'll be together, and there isn't one of my brothers that isn't lethal. Most of us are too fucked up to try to live in society with society's rules, but we have a plan. We'll stick to it and we'll be all right, looking after one another."
/>
"Do your blood brothers have any place in that plan of yours?" Casimir asked, trying not to be hurt. They'd all waited so long to be together. Casimir was risking his life to free them all, and it sounded as if Viktor didn't plan on hanging around.
"I'll be living right there on that sweet farm with you," Viktor said, his gaze suddenly sharp. Piercing. On Lissa.
Casimir glanced at his woman, saw her eyebrows shoot up again, and this time she dug her nails into his palm.
"How lovely." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Gavriil's dog just had puppies. I'm certain there's room in the doghouse for you to stay."
Viktor's green eyes glittered with menace for a long moment and then he burst out laughing. "Your woman has a bad attitude, Casimir. You aware of all that sass before you married her?"
"Yes," Casimir admitted. "And that makes me either the smartest man in the world or the dumbest."
What in the hell is wrong with you? he demanded.
Her chin went up. He'd forgotten she could also be the most stubborn. Someone ought to kick him very hard in the shins. And when I say hard, I mean hard enough so he carries a big fat bruise for a month. He needs to wake up.
"I'll take the doghouse until I get things straightened out," Viktor said. "And trust me, little sister, when I decide to straighten things out, they get that way fast."
14
"What was that?" Casimir asked as he opened the door to the villa overlooking the turquoise sea. He stepped back to allow her to precede him, his jaw set, eyes hard. Lissa lifted her gaze to his face. He could see the answering anger, the one smoldering in his belly, glittering in her eyes. That just brought that fire roaring to life. "Viktor is my brother. He came all this way to be with us. I can't believe you would talk with such open hostility to him."
"Your brother is a Neanderthal and he belongs in a cave somewhere."
She stalked past him into the wide-open room. He followed her. Close. The fire inside of him growing with every step he took. He hadn't seen Viktor since he was a little boy when the soldiers came and ripped his family apart. The tortures they'd all endured were indescribable. He'd never talk to her about his childhood, especially not when that door had been cracked open and he was close to losing control.
The villa was beautiful. One wall, on the far side, was all glass, the view spectacular. He forced himself to stare down into the sea, to try to calm the flames and shut the door on his memories.
"Your brother has the mentality of a biker. Clearly, to him women are nothing but second-class citizens."
He spun around to face her. "How the hell did you get that from our conversation?"
She stalked over to the long bank of windows, stopping beside him, looking beautiful in her dress, more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. The sun shone through the glass, turning her hair into a fiery mass of silk spilling down her back and around her head, like a crown of flames. Her skin appeared luminous, petal soft, inviting touch and that defiant, stubborn lift to her chin brought his body a sudden urgent ache.
"It's Blythe."
Her eyes met his, hers suddenly liquid, framed by long, thick lashes darkened into submission with mascara, but he knew beneath that color were fiery tips of red and gold to match the flame of her hair. Her voice had gone low, quivered even, and his body went still and the surge of intense lust immediately mixed with his need to protect her.
"Blythe?" he echoed, trying to understand.
"Yes, Blythe," she hissed. "My Blythe. My sister Blythe. She's the one he's talking about. He left her five years ago without a word. Not one single word. She doesn't know she's married to him. She would have told us. She's... haunted. She runs every day to escape demons. I've seen that look on her face and he put it there."
"Viktor somehow did something to your sister?" He struggled to understand. "Malyshka." He tried to soothe her. "Viktor has been in deep cover for five years. What could he have possibly done to your Blythe?"
She glared at him. "Your brother hurt my sister. He devastated her."
She paced across the floor in her wedding dress, needing the action. He could see the fire in her belly roaring to life, matching the burning in his. The room took on a golden glow. She glowed. His woman. Lissa. No, Giacinta. He had married Giacinta Abbracciabene, and she deserved to be her father's daughter. She shouldn't have to hide who she was any more than he should have to be anyone but Casimir Prakenskii.
His other brothers, with the exception of Viktor but - even Gavriil - had managed to leave their lives behind, to get out of the shadows. Giacinta and he deserved that as well. They'd paid their dues in that hellhole they'd been forced into. They'd nearly clawed their way out, and if they made it, neither of them was ever going back. His woman could finally be in the sun where she belonged.
"That whole thing about Evan Shackler-Gratsos, Viktor telling us who his target was, that wasn't about you and Gavriil and the others taking over if something happens to him. That was making certain I couldn't tell my sister about him. He's a dick."
She was beautiful in her anger. A fiery princess dressed in a jeweled silk and lace gown that he couldn't wait to take off of her.
"Woman, when you're pissed, you have a mouth on you." And he knew exactly where he wanted that mouth. His cock was harder than a rock and needed attention immediately.
He hooked her around her sweet little waist and pulled her into him, his front to her back. His fingers found the small jeweled buttons, sliding them from their loops. She tried to turn to face him, her anger radiating off of her. He didn't mind. He wanted to taste that fiery passion. Drink it down his throat. He tightened his hold on her, pinning her against him. Bending his head, he nuzzled her neck and then sank his teeth there.
Shocked, she stilled. He held her in place, his hands moving up from her waist to that alluring plunging vee of a neckline, the one revealing the full curve of her breasts. Every time she'd moved and more satin-soft skin had been revealed and then hidden, temptation had skittered through his body. A long trail of molten fire burned through every vein and artery, leading straight to his heart and then back to his cock. That force centered there, pooled until his balls became deep magma chambers and his erection was fiery hot and so hard with need that he knew he could explode any moment.
He slid his hands inside that jeweled bodice, claiming her lush mounds. Her hard little nipples poked into the palm of his hands. He cupped the sweet flesh for a moment, savoring the feel of her. He turned his head, his lips against her ear. "That wasn't a nice thing to do, golubushka, calling my brother names. Do you really think I'm going to let you get away with that?"
Her outraged breath hissed out of her, just like he knew it would. Her breasts rose and fell as she drew in air and exhaled. His fingers and thumb found her nipples and tugged and rolled, pinching and then brushing caressing strokes while his teeth went to her earlobe. She made a sound, a moan and involuntarily pushed her bottom against him.
"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, malyshka, and you're going to come for me over and over until I say enough. Do you understand?" He whispered the declaration in her ear. Thought about taking her, right over the couch by the window with the sun shining on the sea below and sending rays to turn her red hair into pure fire. "Say you understand." His hands kept moving, kneading and tugging, sending tiny pinpoints of pain to sharpen the pleasure sweeping through her.
"This is for me. Right now. Here. Then it will be all you, golubushka, I promise, but when you give your man a raging hard-on, then you take care of it."
He felt the shiver go through her body. Her nipples hardened even more and she squirmed, her hips pushing into him. Deep. Needy. Hungry. He used his tongue to ease the sting on her earlobe. "Right now," he whispered, his lips brushing against her sensitive ear, "in this beautiful gown, I want you to turn around and open my trousers, take out my cock and wrap your lips around it."
His heart pounded hard in his chest. The moment his anger had surfaced, the moment hers had risen to meet
his, their passion colliding, he could barely think of anything else. Her, in that exquisite gown, looking like a princess, so beautiful she took his breath away, the hint of her breasts tempting him. Every movement of her body in that figure-hugging jeweled sheath fed the fire in him. The red of her full lips - hell, he had to see them wrapped around his cock. Feel her hot mouth surrounding him.
She turned to him, right there in front of the bank of windows, the turquoise sea surrounding them, tilting her face up to his. She was so beautiful his heart actually ached. Her tongue touched her lips and then she sank to her knees on the Persian rug right in front of him, her hands reaching for his zipper. Fingers brushed his cock so that he felt it jerk. Hard. So much anticipation. He took a breath. Let it out.
"Giacinta, first, push the material of that gown off your breasts. I want to see them while you suck me off." Deliberately he kept giving orders. Stark. Raw. Watching her face. Watching her hunger grow.
Her lashes fluttered. She swallowed. Her breasts heaved. Her hands left his trousers and settled on the bodice of her dress.
"Look at me, malyshka. I want to see your eyes while you take your breasts from where they're hiding from me. Ease them out."