Wait…
Does that mean the Serpents are also Russian mafia? I figured they’d be some sort of mafia, but how come they’re actively competing with Jeremy and Nikolai, who are from the same organization?
I take a step forward, my curiosity getting the better of me. I probably shouldn’t be privy to this information, but something tells me it’s important in the great scheme of things.
My foot trips over something big and hard, and I shriek as I tumble forward, gripping the railing for balance so that I don’t end up on my face.
A person. That’s what I stumbled over.
And he’s lying at the bottom of the stairs. No kidding. He’s on the carpet, facedown.
When I accidentally hit him, he grumbles, “Can’t anyone fucking sleep in this motherfucking house?”
I grip the railing tighter, staring at none other than Nikolai. He’s in boxers. That’s all.
His chest and back are a map of tattoos. Couple that with his messy long hair, angular features, and furrowed brow, and he has all it takes to induce fear into anyone’s soul.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I whisper and resist adding that I didn’t expect to find someone sleeping at the bottom of the stairs, considering all the rooms upstairs.
Nikolai narrows one of his eyes, then in one swift movement, he jumps up to his full height and barges into my space.
I automatically step back, but my shoes hit the step and I’m trapped under his scrutiny.
It’s like I’m being sized up for dinner—or something much more nefarious. I could swear there’s a glint in his eyes, the one hunters get after spotting prey, but it soon vanishes.
“Nope, not the right one.” The disappointment in his tone makes me pause.
But I don’t have time to think about his words before Jeremy and Gareth stalk in from wherever they were.
Fully clothed, thank God.
“Didn’t know we had a guest,” Jeremy says casually, his voice losing all the tension from a minute ago.
Gareth slides a hand in his pocket, his expression is unreadable. “Killer’s guest.”
I can feel my ears heating. He probably knows what we’ve been up to.
God, can the earth open up and swallow me, please?
Jeremy studies me with no change in his expression. “Anoushka’s least annoying roommate.”
“My friends are not annoying,” I say without thinking, definitely bolder than I’d ever act, especially considering the fact that I’m being surrounded by three predators, with another one just upstairs.
Not to mention that Nikolai is still in my space, watching me with that one narrowed manic eye of his.
“The blonde has a social butterfly complex and the silver-haired one is…” Jeremy trails off. “Bland to put it mildly. She’s also teaching Anoushka bad habits. When I said annoying, I was being nice.”
Seriously, what’s with these wankers saying they’re nice when they’re exhibiting antisocial behavior?
Still, I keep my chin up. “Whether Ava chooses to be a social butterfly or not is her business. She didn’t overstep your or anyone’s boundaries by doing that, so you have no right to judge her. And Cecily isn’t bland. She’s the purest, most selfless soul to ever exist.”
“A synonym for bland,” he shoots back, and I’m ready to claw his eyes out.
And it’s okay if I get myself killed in the meantime.
I might not care if insults are thrown my way, but I’d cut a bitch for my friends.
The moment I open my mouth to let whatever word vomit spill, Nikolai advances closer in front of me so that he’s on the same step as me.
Any words I had to say die in my throat as I stare up at him. He’s so tall, my neck almost snaps back from the angle. His bare chest nearly grazes mine and I can see the pores in his skin.
“I say, there are some similarities. Think I can draw a kitten by using another kitten?” He reaches an open palm to my face as if he intends to cover it and slam me against the nearest object.
Before I can try to duck, something hits Nikolai’s forehead. His skull swings backward and he flies toward the ground.
He falls on his back with a loud, haunting thud, and the weapon of the crime, an American football, rolls beside him.
“And he scores,” Jeremy says with unveiled amusement.
A sudden chill trickles down my spine, but I don’t get the chance to look behind me.
I don’t get a chance to move.
A larger-than-life presence appears by my side. I hate the warmth that accompanies the woodsy and amber scent. It’s a smokescreen that there’s a person beneath it all, when I’ve seen firsthand that that’s not the case.
I catch a glimpse of his bare chest, the haunting tattoos, and the unnaturally bulging muscles. It’s as if he’s suppressing something.
Or maybe he’s not bothering to camouflage his true nature.
But hey, at least he put on some pants.
I don’t dare look at him, and instead, remain focused on Nikolai, who jumps up as if he wasn’t knocked out.
“The actual fucking fuck, Satan’s heir? What’s with throwing motherfucking objects at me lately? Did you get fucking tired of living?”
Killian grabs me by the throat and I yelp as he pushes my back against the railing and captures my lips with his own.
Then he uses my bewilderment state to thrust his tongue inside. He dominates mine, makes me complete and utter putty in his hands.
I’m helpless, but I still try to fight. I put my hands on his chest to push him away, but that only causes his roughness to reach new, exhilarating levels.
His fingers spread on my neck and he kisses me with feverish control. He kisses like he’s fucking me, like he’s having his way with me again, and I have no choice but to take it.
But I’m not his plaything.
I bite his lip and he bites my tongue, harder, until a metallic taste explodes in my mouth.
Whether it’s his or mine, I have no clue.
What I’m sure about is that the war of tongues, lips, and teeth only gets more potent with each passing second until I’m sure my head will explode.
His other hand wraps possessively around my hip and he slams me against the front of his body.
My curves are crushed by his ruthless harshness, and in hindsight, no amount of forts I could build would be able to resist the war that is Killian Carson.
He was always meant to break me to pieces and force me to enjoy every minute of it.
Maybe it’s useless to fight.
Maybe I should’ve cut my losses at the beginning. Because obviously, my resistance is what got him interested in me in the first place.
Like an animal with sharp instincts, Killian must feel the dissipation of my fight, because he delves deeper, his tongue ravaging mine until I whimper from the fierce power.
His kiss is damnation in its purest form, and while I thought he wasn’t what I wanted, maybe this monster is exactly what I need.