From Russia With Fangs Read online

  “But Irina is still in seclusion!” Alexei yelled, his face flushing an unattractive shade of magenta against his black shirt. “It’s not proper for her to be out until the full moon.”

  Irina stared at Alexei. Moments before, Alexei was spitting some heinous metaphors about painting the world with her soul, but now that Papa was talking early parole, he wanted to stick to proper procedure? Then again, maybe he was trying to protect his AmEx balance. Galina’s taste in shoes ran to the exquisitely expensive.

  “Viktor, you will accompany the ladies anywhere they wish to go,” Ilya commanded. “Be sure to keep Irina from ‘falling’ again.”

  Viktor nodded sharply as Galina herded Irina out the door, tossing a blazer over Irina’s head and scooping up both of their purses. Irina spluttered, reluctant to leave Papa and Alexei alone in her home.

  Galina loaded Irina into the backseat of the Sudenko-issued SUV. “That’s right, we have to go get more clothes to cover your butt, let’s go.”

  Irina sighed, leaning her forehead against the back of the passenger set as Viktor climbed behind the wheel. “I can’t believe I’m taking werewolves to a mall.”

  It turned out that shopping with Franny and Galina was a little like a pilgrimage, but with less comfortable shoes. Macy’s, Saks, Neiman Marcus, Nordstrom’s—if it didn’t have a personal shopping service, Galina refused to set foot in the store.

  While Irina enjoyed picking a selection of suits, slacks and dresses in all the colors of the spectrum, she had a hard time getting any of her choices past the vetting board of Sudenko and Valenti. Galina wanted everything tailored until she had a Scarlett O’Hara silhouette. Franny wanted every color Irina wore to be “dramatic,” so anything involving pastels was met with a buzzer-like, “EHHHHH!” Galina refused to let her buy anything less than a four-inch heel. And while Franny’s budget was considerably limited compared to her friends’, she had a pathological need to accessorize everything she touched. And Poor Viktor was stuck trailing after them, hauling armloads of shopping bags with a tortured expression on his face.

  Once again, Irina’s head was thrown for a loop by Viktor’s behavior. The tender focus he’d devoted to caring for her arms was another about-face from his detached civility. And then there was the none-too-inconsiderable matter of the predatory look on his face when she’d seen him half-naked that morning.

  Even now, he was standing outside the spacious dressing rooms of Stiverson’s, an expensive local department store with an emphasis on expensive designer formalwear, his back turned to her as he scanned the lingerie department for potential assassins. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her. He wouldn’t speak. He simply followed along like a faithful hound as Galina and Franny dragged her all over retail fantasyland.

  Stiverson’s was done in ivory and pale gold, a subtle backdrop to showcase their magnificent clothes. Irina shivered in the thin silk robe the store provided while eyeing the enemy, a backless royal blue halter-style silk dress Galina and Franny insisted that she try on. She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck while contemplating the dress. She hadn’t worn anything backless since college. Sergei had strictly forbidden it.

  The combination of taboo skin exposure and buying non-sanctioned colors was just a little too much for Irina. She plopped into the plush white chair opposite the dressing mirror and buried her hands in her face. She could do this. She could break years of programming and bullshit Sergei had drummed into her head. She could wear a scary blue dress.

  She scrubbed her hands over her face. She was pathetic.

  “Rina, are you coming out?” Franny asked quietly from outside of the door.

  Irina nodded, planting her feet and springing up. “Yeah, just a minute.”

  Irina dropped the robe and unhooked her bra, grateful that while the dressing room walls stopped several feet short of the cathedral ceiling, they also ran to the floor to offer more privacy. At least Viktor wouldn’t see her sock feet traipsing back and forth while she tried on dresses. She pulled the dress over her head. The material slid over her skin like water, snagging lightly on the bandages on her arms. The open back framed her spine like it was priceless art, puddling at the waist in an elegant sweep of silk. Irina turned in the mirror. Yep, it was just as gorgeous from the front, pulling the eye from her high, firm breasts to her narrow waist.

  “Look, look!” She practically launched herself out of the dressing room and spun around to show Franny and Galina. But when she opened her eyes mid-spin, she found Viktor staring at her. Correction, he was staring into her, as if he could see through the dress to the soft skin beneath. Her first instinct was to cover up, to run back into the dressing room. But considering the towel treatment she received that morning, she considered it turnabout and fair play.

  Franny and Galina suddenly sprang in front of her, squealing and chattering. Viktor stepped outside of the dressing area, running his hand over his shorn scalp.

  “Oh, wow!” Franny cried. “Oh, Rina, it’s gorgeous.”

  “The color is gorgeous against your ski—oh my god,” Galina yelped as she took in the back. “Wow, that is a lot of back.”

  “What do you mean?” Franny frowned, circling Irina and taking in the back of the dress. Franny’s mouth fell open, her expression horrified.

  “It’s beautiful,” Galina said carefully. “But, Rina, no amount of alterations would prevent this from draping too low, not without ruining the lines. It’s a shame, but I can actually see the little dimples over your ass cheeks. If you take one step out of this store in it, Papa would throw a coat over you and have you shipped off to a nunnery.”

  Irina groaned. “I know, but it’s nice to dream.” She turned again, so she could admire the gown one last time. “Are you sure I couldn’t get away with it?”

  “Ass crack cleavage looks classy on no one,” Galina said, shaking her head.

  “Fine.” Irina gave a much put-upon sigh. “I’ll find something more appropriate.”

  Irina closed the dressing room door and called, “I don’t know why I need all of these ball gowns. It’s not like I go to a lot of proms.”

  “You never know when an event could come up,” Galina protested. “Now that you don’t have a socially-backward albatross hanging around your neck, you’ll be able to attend parties and museum openings and all sorts of events that Sergei would have either forbidden you or ruined with a big scene.”

  “It’s not like I’m a hermit!” Irina protested weakly.

  “Need I remind you of the time I invited you two to the opening of my first exhibit, where Sergei ended up snorting the better part of an eight-ball and pissing in a potted plant?” Galina deadpanned.

  Irina shook her head. “Nope. But it would be nice not to be overheard ridiculing my dead husband in a public place when the police are still seeking a suspect.”

  “Eh,” Galina conceded with a shrug. “What are you going to try on while we treasure hunt?”

  Irina carefully re-hung the unattainable blue dress on a padded hanger. “Uh, I’ve got the gray ‘goddess-toga’ Vera Wang, the topaz satin mermaid thing, and the maroon raw silk Balenciaga.”

  “No maroon,” Galina told Franny, reaching over the closed door and pulling the maroon gown out of selection.

  “But the cut would be beautiful on her figure!” Franny protested.

  “Nothing in the red family!” Galina reminded her.

  “I’ll try on the gray one!” Irina cried. “Stop arguing and go find something else to torture me with.”

  “Fine,” Franny sighed as they walked out of the dressing room, closing the door behind them. “But I reserve the right to veto anything with a mermaid hemline. I mean, honestly, Galya.”

  “Irina has a fantastic ass!” Galina exclaimed. “The mermaid cut would proclaim its perfection to the world.”

  “I can still hear you,” Irina called. “Along with the residents of the greater Seattle area.”

  Irina shook her head, smiling to herself as she co
uld still hear Galina and Franny arguing from half-way across the hosiery section. She slid the gray dress off the hanger and eased the side zipper down.

  As she stepped into the dress, she heard Viktor move closer to the door, near enough that she could hear him murmur. “I liked the blue one.”

  “Do you really have to stand right outside?” she asked. “This can’t be much fun for you. And considering the commission she’s about to earn, I don’t think the salesgirl is about to take me out.”

  “You’ve already been hurt once today because I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop your brother. I’m not going to let it happen again on my watch.”

  “Oh, the claw wounds?” Irina scoffed. “That’s nothing. Mama Yaga’s ointments will clear them up in no time.”

  “Still, it shouldn’t have happened. The things your father allows Alexei to get away with, it’s sick.”

  “It’s a complicated situation,” Irina said. “I know your hands are tied when it comes to Alexei. The rest of the family can’t control him. Why would you?”

  “Still, I’m sorry that I let him hurt you. I should have protected you.”

  Irina’s jaw clenched and her teeth ground together. She was tired of being the poor, pitiful porcelain little human that needed to be kept in a foam-wrapped bubble. Seriously, fuck that. She whipped the door open, caught his arm and dragged him inside.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered, glancing over the door to the dressing area. He took in the sight of her in the long, flowing gray gown and his expression softened. Right up until the moment that she shoved him against the wall and attacked his mouth. Viktor let out a surprised yelp, which Irina swallowed as she slipped her tongue past his lips to tangle with his.

  Viktor nudged her feet apart, raising his knee between her legs to let her slide against his jeans. His hands slid around her ass, clutching her close as he dragged her skirt up to her waist. Her hands scrabbled against his leather jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. He resisted giving up his grip on her ass, but let go just enough to shrug the jacket to the floor.

  Irina could feel his hands searching her back for the zipper of the dress. Grinning, she unzipped the dress and tossed it over the nearby chair. She was glad she’d worn the little peach panties that matched her bra. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of the bandages, but she distracted him by popping open the button of his jeans, letting his long, beautiful cock spring free. She wrapped her tapered, delicate fingers around the curve of him, stroking the silvery drop of pre-cum, smooth and slick over his skin.

  He moaned as she twisted her wrist, teasing the head with her thumb. Irina stifled the sound with her mouth, never losing the rhythm, even when his hips stuttered erratically. He broke the kiss only to bury his nose against the crook of her neck, breathing deeply, taking in her scent. A contented rumble echoed from his chest to hers, the vibrations teasing her nipples into aching points of pleasure.

  This was insanity, the very definition of crazy, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to touch him. She gave his lips one last lick and dropped suddenly to her knees, delighted by the soft cushion the store’s expensive carpet provided. Viktor’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t move a muscle as she tugged his pants down his hips. Irina swept her tongue over her lips, taking the tip of his cock into her mouth and teasing with her tongue. She kept her movements delicate, as light as the brush of eyelashes against a cheek. She leaned close, licking a path from his pubic bone to his navel, letting her eyelashes brush his super-sensitive skin along the way. Viktor hissed, bucking his hips against her. Irina leered up at him, licking the salt of his skin from her lips. He’d been torturing her for weeks with his distance and brain-scrambling inconsistencies. Revenge would be hers.

  Dirty, half-naked revenge.

  She stroked her fingers along his cock, guiding him into her mouth as she took him in as deep as she could. She felt his knees give a little when the head brushed the back of her throat. She backed away, hollowing her cheeks so he could feel her caress every inch of him. She braced her hands against his thighs as she plunged forward, wrapping her lips around his length. His hands tangled in her hair as he rocked his hips carefully. She slipped her hand between his thighs, palming his sack and rolling his balls in her fingers. She took him in, over and over, as he panted and sagged against the wall.

  She could feel herself growing wet and hot, and marveled at the hum of sensation that traveled up her spine when she rubbed her fingers over her cotton-clad clit. For a mad moment, she thought about throwing him into the chair and straddling him, riding his cock until they both howled.

  But she was pretty sure that she didn’t want to be arrested for public indecency on her first day out of seclusion. It set a bad precedent. So instead, she worked him, ruthless in her pursuit of the little whimpers of pleasure he made. His hips canted on their own and he threw his head back, whacking his skull against the wall. He hissed, making her stifle a giggle.

  “Irina?” Franny called from the other side of the partition. “You okay?”

  Viktor shot her a panicked look and tried to ease out of her mouth, but Irina held fast. She pressed a solitary finger behind his sack, to the smooth, sensitive tissue. Viktor’s jaw locked over the growl he wanted to let loose.

  “Are you ready to come out?” Franny asked, her tone uncertain.

  “Mmhmm,” Irina hummed, the vibrations making Viktor clench his fists and contort his face into an expression of tortured ecstasy. Irina raked her nails down his left hip and then his right, leaving long red welts on his skin. Viktor’s eyes glowed blue and helpless as he pumped, once, twice and then one final time, before flooding her mouth with his hot, faintly bitter release. She swallowed every drop. She let him go with a faint pop and licked her lips in a way that she was fully aware registered high on the obscene gesture scale. His eyes narrowed, but she just offered him a filthy grin.

  “I’m having some trouble with a zipper, Franny, I’ll be right out.”

  “Is she still pouting about the blue dress?” Irina heard Galina ask.

  Oh, hell. Galina would be able to smell Viktor’s spiked hormones and other various pesky chemicals. Viktor helped her to her feet and scrambled to pull up his pants.

  “She’s not coming out,” Franny whispered.

  Galina knocked on the door. “There’s no crying in the dressing room, Rina. It’s like baseball without all of the gross scratchi—Hey, where’s Viktor?”

  Irina slapped a palm over her face while Viktor struggled to tuck his shirt into his pants.

  “Uh, I think he stepped out,” Irina called, zipping up the gray dress.

  “It doesn’t smell like he stepped out,” Galina countered.

  “Trust me, Galya, he stepped out.”

  Irina could practically hear Galina’s eye-roll through the door. “If you say so.”

  Irina carefully fluffed her flowing silvery skirts around her ankles. She shot Viktor an inquisitive look, as if to say, “What do you think?” He yanked her close and kissed her hard, chuffing proudly at the taste of himself on her lips.

  “We’re waiting,” Galina called, sounding amused.

  Irina detached herself from Viktor’s mouth and carefully opened the door so the girls couldn’t see inside.

  “What do you think?” Irina asked, giving a little twirl. The dress wasn’t as overtly sexual as the first, but it was still beautiful, showing the long, elegant contours of Irina’s arms and shoulders. The gray material brought out the delicate rose tint of her skin. And when Franny came up behind her to twist her hair into an impromptu bun, Irina could see herself as an errant Olympian.

  “Oh, you’ve hit a homerun with this one,” Franny gushed.

  “Someone hit a homerun,” Galina muttered. Irina pursed her lips and nudged Galina with her elbow.

  The tall, brunette saleslady stepped into the dressing room, drawn by Franny’s squeals of approval. Irina glanced over her shoulder and smiled at her. “We’ll take this one.”


  “Excellent choice,” the saleslady demurred.

  “And the blue one,” Irina added, making Franny gasp.

  “I would tell you it’s a bad idea, but I’m just so proud of you for rebelling, I don’t have the heart to,” Galina said.

  “You’re a very bad influence,” Irina told her.

  Galina glanced slyly at the dressing room door. “Yeah, I’m the bad influence.”

  7

  Screw Flowers. Say It with Bacon

  IRINA ROLLED ONTO HER SIDE, rubbing her cheek against the soft, cool surface of her pillow as her eyes adjusted to the dim pre-dawn light of her room. At the end of her bed, a man sat against her footboard, turning something in his hands.

  “Holy shit!” she yelled, launching a pillow at the man, which she realized mid-throw to be Viktor, perched on her mattress in track pants and a tank top that displayed his long, muscular arms.

  He used one of those arms to catch the fluffy projectile before it hit his face and tossed it back on the bed. He set aside the small, exquisitely painted matryoshka, a Russian nesting doll set she’d received as an Easter gift when she was a child, that he’d been studying. “Really? You wake up with a man sitting on your bed and your response is to start a pillow fight?”

  “To distract you while I launched my super-violent, cleverly plotted attack,” she told him, propping herself up on her elbows and squinting at him. Her eyes followed the trail of symbols etched on his skin, a series of stars, Cyrillic, inked claw marks to denote service to the families, small moons to signify time spent in prison—lupine symbols that only members of the Organizatsiya would recognize. Sergei had never received any tattoos, of course, so this was the closest Irina had ever been to a “marked man.”

  “If this is your idea of pillow talk, I am sorely disappointed.”

  “Come on, get out of bed,” he told her, standing and dragging the blankets from her body.

  “It’s Sunday,” she mumbled. “I sleep late on Sundays.”

  “Not anymore, you don’t.”

  “Does it say something about my appeal that you’re dragging me out of bed?” she grumped, flinging another pillow at his back as he pulled the blankets all the way to the door.