Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“Exactly.” Kill finishes and releases my hand as he grins. “Not sure what type of foreplay those two are into, but shit will be interesting. The sons of the leaders of the two most notorious Russian mafia branches? I sense trouble and I’m here for it.”
I say nothing and kick Kill out. As I close the door, I lean against it and let my lips pull in a smile.
This is a variable I didn’t expect.
The motherfucker from tonight is such a fool. Yulian is obviously obsessed with Vaughn in some way, and that means the man who’s probably a bodyguard is struggling with some form of unrequited lust, or even better, love.
I’d feel sorry for him if I knew how.
I thought I’d find him and kill him, but now, I have an upgraded plan—make him suffer.
In the most painful way possible.
I’ll make him wish he never met me.
Let alone touched me.
“This is so fucking boring.” My cousin Nikolai wraps an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders as we walk to campus. “Give me something, Jer. A battle, a war, a little toy to fuck with.”
“We have the initiation coming. Try to hold it in until then,” Jeremy speaks in a calm, unbothered tone.
He’s the Heathens’ leader, the son of the New York Bratva’s strategist, and has quite a few similarities with his father. Like me, he doesn’t act without a plan, but unlike me, he’s openly ruthless when need be.
“It’s not piss, Jer. I can’t just hold it in,” Nikolai grumbles out loud, drawing people’s attention due to his big frame and the full-sleeve tattoos peeking from beneath his T-shirt.
He’s my maternal cousin—our moms are identical twin sisters—and the most chaotic person I know. He’s the most violent among us and gets off on crunching people’s bones, but he’s also random as fuck.
While my mom is a Russian mafia princess, she separated from the organization long before I was born. Aunt Rai and her husband, however, are two of their leaders. That gives Nikolai, like Jeremy and Vaughn, a legacy to continue and his parents’ shoes to fill.
Kill and I are just here for the ride. A revival of our distant Russian roots, perhaps. In my case, I need a venting outlet, which I’m sure is the same for Kill.
“Just get your dick wet, Niko,” my brother says, walking on Niko’s left. “That usually takes care of the aggression, even if temporarily.”
“Satan’s heir, you evil genius.” Niko releases Jeremy and headlocks my brother.
“Stating the obvious, I see,” Kill says in his usual arrogant tone that will one day get him murdered decapitation style.
Niko keeps talking about his dick, and I’m glad we’re not in the house or he’d be indulging in exhibitionism.
I fall behind to match Jeremy’s steps. “Vaughn is coming to the initiation, right?”
“Is there a reason he wouldn’t?”
“Just checking.”
Jeremy glances at my bandage, then back at my face. “How about getting your hand properly checked? Kill said the wound is deep.”
“You know he likes to exaggerate things.”
“I saw the blood in the car. Didn’t seem exaggerated.”
“Just a little accident, Jer.”
“I expect Niko and Kill to get into little accidents. Hell, even Vaughn, but not you, Gaz.”
Jeremy stops and I’m forced to do the same. Since he’s the oldest among us, he annoyingly takes the leadership position seriously.
Way too seriously for my taste.
“Won’t happen again.” From now on, I’ll be the one inflicting pain.
“Better not. You’re the only levelheaded person I trust to keep things under control.”
“Don’t worry.” As long as I’m under control, that is.
“You won’t tell me what actually happened?”
“Not important.” I tap his shoulder, wearing my most charming smile. “See you later.”
I let them go to their respective classes and head to mine. Kill goes to the med school building, and Jeremy and Nikolai, who are in business school, go to that building.
The walk to my first class is constantly interrupted by students and professors greeting me, talking to me, wanting as much of my attention as they can get.
They’re like sponges, sucking on and soaking up my words and smiles and empty compliments just so they’ll grow bigger and more inflated.
While I usually don’t mind, their constant noise is worsening the headache I woke up with today.
Sleep evaded me for most of last night, and when I did nod off, I dreamt of a man in a skeleton mask with gold serpents wrapping his fingers around my dick and squeezing until it hurt.
I remember thinking that I don’t find men attractive.
And his veiny hand around my cock shouldn’t make it so hard that it’s leaking precum.
But then he was jerking me off, roughly, until it hurt—the way I like it but have never had it.
And I grunted, in the nightmare, about to come, but then he was shoving a pillow over my head and suffocating me to death.