Throne of Power: Chapter 15

I try not to walk funny into the house, but the thing Kyle shoved in me shifts with every step I take, creating friction I want to consider uncomfortable when it’s anything but.

We stopped at the mall because there was no way in hell I was allowing anyone to see me with a makeup-less face and in baggy, unflattering clothes.

I’m now dressed in a simple dark gray dress, my hair is pulled up, and my makeup is flawless. I had to buy a set of pearls because even heavy foundation didn’t completely conceal the hickey on my neck, which has now turned dark blue.

Kyle gave me a disapproving glance when I came out to meet him. What right does he have to look at me that way after the unbearable sensation he’s causing me with the toy right now?

“Something bothering you, Princess?” A low voice whispers at my ear, and it takes everything in me to not swing around and hit him across the face just to erase that smug tone. He’s having so much fun tormenting me.

“Stay away from me.”

“No can do. We got married yesterday, remember?”

How could I forget? My lips still tingle from the possessive way he kissed me in front of the world as if that has always been his purpose in life, as if claiming me in front of everyone has been his mission, his fate, and his driving force.

“Being married doesn’t mean anything.” I try to speak casually in a hopeless attempt to kill the chain of thoughts forming in my head.

“Just because you refuse to admit it, doesn’t mean it has no meaning. You’ll get used to it, though.”

He speaks with so much arrogance, as if he knows the future and is taunting me with it.

I swing around, causing us both to halt. “Don’t think you’re something because Igor somehow decided to make you his son. You’ll always be the stray dog Dedushka took in and turned into somebody.”

His expression doesn’t change, but he shoves a hand in his pocket as if stopping it from acting on something. “Careful, Mrs. Hunter. The more you insult me, the more I will drag you down by the throat.”

I point a finger at his chest. “I’m not scared of you.”

He grabs my hand in place, and when I try to escape, he keeps it imprisoned in a hold so tight it’s impossible to break. His face lowers so it’s a few inches from mine. The meticulous mask he wears so well falters a little, and I get a glimpse of his true self.

His eyes are…empty. Desolate.

Dedushka used to tell me there’s nothing more frightening than a man who has nothing to lose.

And now, I’m staring right at the soul of one.

“You should be,” he says with a chilling calm that stabs straight to my bones. “You really, really should be.”

We remain like that for what seems like hours, just gazing at each other as his words sink in.

Even a long time ago, Kyle always managed to confiscate my attention and cage it behind metal bars. Seven years later, he still has that effect on me, and what’s worse is that he’s coming off stronger, harsher, as if it’s his final strike.

A clearing of a throat cuts off the connection. I blink once as Kyle’s immaculate mask snaps into place and he loosens his hold on my hand.

I step back as if I’ve been shocked, heart hammering at a strange pace.

It takes me a few seconds to refocus on Sergei coming down the stairs, accompanied by Anastasia. She’s grinning from ear to ear as her gaze goes from me to Kyle and back again. That girl has always been a hopeless romantic.

Schooling my features, I join them and take Ana’s hands in mine. “Are you guys all right?”

“We’re fine.” She smiles like an idiot. “Tell me about you.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I direct my focus to Sergei. “What were our casualties? Did we lose any men? What happened after the attack ended?”

“One question at a time, Rayenka.” Sergei calls me by the nickname he would never use in front of the other men because that would mean he was showing favoritism toward me.

“Tell me.”

“Join me.” He motions his head at Kyle. “You too.”

Anastasia kisses his cheek then tiptoes over and whispers in my ear, “You’ll tell me all about the fun you had last night, okay?”

I push her away teasingly, and she giggles as she heads back up the stairs.

One of the guards opens the dining room door for Sergei, and the three of us go inside.

We’re greeted by a heated argument between the four kings in Russian. Adrian and Vlad are nowhere to be found. It’s not a surprise in the case of Adrian since attending meetings isn’t a habit he maintains, but Vlad’s absence is concerning.

“Where’s Vlad?” I ask Sergei.

“He’s taking care of the police procedures so that nothing falls back on us,” he tells me, speaking low enough so the others don’t hear. “The attack caused quite the commotion.”

“It’s all because of your reckless behavior,” Igor accuses Damien.

“Me?” Damien laughs. “Sure thing, Igor, let’s blame your lack of competence on me, shall we?”

“You fucked up, Orlov.” Kirill throws his own accusation. “You threw us into a war we do not need.”

“Stop being a pussy, Kirill. This is not rainbows and fucking unicorns. This is the Bratva.”

“One of my men died,” Kirill snarls. “Are you going to go to his mother and deliver the news?”

“No, but I will give her his fucking medallion of honor, because he died for his brothers.”

“Two of my men were injured, too,” Mikhail says, sipping from his glass of vodka. In fact, all the men aside from Igor have glasses of liquor in front of them. If they’re drinking alcohol first thing in the morning, then shit is hitting the fan.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, old man.” Damien rolls his eyes. “Your men need retraining.”

“Are you saying my men are incompetent, Orlov?” Mikhail’s face reddens with exertion.

“Exactly. Did dealing with pussy turn you into one?”

“You fucking—” Mikhail stands up, probably to punch Damien, but Sergei’s presence makes them fall silent.

He slowly lowers himself into his seat, his expression neutral.

I attempt to sit beside Damien, but Kyle cuts in before me and snatches the seat so I’m forced to take Igor’s side.

“Blaming each other won’t bring any results,” Sergei says as an indirect reply to the quarrel we witnessed. “We’re brothers and we help our own when they’re in need.”

Grumbles and clearings of throats fill the room as Damien gives the other three a smug look.

“Lazlo and Kai were shot yesterday,” Igor says. “That could bring the Italians and the Japanese closer or throw them apart.”

“We need to test the waters with both,” I say.

Mikhail clicks his tongue. “Shouldn’t you be on a honeymoon or something?”

I smile. “And leave you to screw things up?”

Damien snickers under his breath, and I give him an appreciative glance.

“Test the waters?” Sergei asks.

“Kai thought we were the ones behind it, so if we prove we aren’t, he’ll bring the Japanese’s full arsenal.”

“So will the Italians,” Kirill chips in. “Especially since they know about the Irish threat.”

“We should send highly ranked people to both camps,” Igor repeats my suggestion from earlier.

“I will meet with Kai,” I say. “He seemed open to dialogue yes…terday.”

My voice catches at the end when something moves inside me. The toy—it’s vibrating.

Holy. Hell.

There’s no noise, but the stimulation is definitely there.

My eyes widen, flying to Kyle across the table. He sits with one of his hands clutching a drink while the other is hidden under the table, no doubt causing this.

My panties feel soaked in mere seconds, and any squirming I do only causes the friction to increase.

“Are you okay?” Igor asks with genuine concern, obviously noticing the fidgeting. Please don’t tell me my face is flushed or something.

“I-I’m fine,” I manage to mutter.

I try meeting Kyle’s gaze, but he pretends to be overly interested in Sergei. His sharp features are relaxed, nonchalant even, as he speaks. “Kai appeared convinced. I suggest Kirill makes sure of that since he has better relations with the Yakuza than anyone here.”

“I can check,” Kirill complies.

I try to focus on him and not the humming inside me, but it’s almost impossible with the stimulation. It’s like I’m back in the shower with Kyle’s fingers inside me, and—

No. Get out of my head.

“In the meantime, allow me to visit the Italians,” Kyle tells Sergei. “Since it was my wedding, I can apologize to the Don and get an idea of what they’re thinking.”

“An apology goes a long way with the Italians,” Igor says.

“Exactly.” Kyle grins at his father then his gaze slides to me, slowly, unhurriedly, before his lips pull up in a smirk.

Stop it, I mouth, gripping the edge of the table for balance.

His smirk widens before he masks it and pretends like he’s not torturing me in a room full of men.

“Take Adrian with you,” Sergei says, and Kyle nods.

“I’m going too,” I speak quietly, holding in a moan.

“No, you’re not,” Kyle says.

“Yes, I am. It was our wedding. They’ll be more open if it’s both of us.”

“Or more closed off because you’re a woman,” Mikhail asserts.

“Adrian and I will be enough.” Kyle meets my gaze as the vibration intensifies.

My fingers tremble, and it takes all my self-restraint to not moan or whimper or release any embarrassing sounds. I haven’t been stimulated like this in my entire life, and the fact that I can’t relieve it is turning me delirious.

“Rai,” Sergei calls my name, and it scarcely filters through the buzz in my ears. “Are you unwell?”

“Are you?” Kyle reaches my side in two seconds and touches my forehead like a doting husband. I want to knee him in the balls, but I can’t shift my focus from the humming inside me.

I clamp my lips shut as a trail of sweat falls over my temple. I can’t even speak because if I open my mouth, the only thing that will come out right now is a shameful needy sound.

“My apologies, Pakhan. It appears I exhausted her last night.”

I can feel my nerves constricting and the color draining from my face as his words fall on the room like doom.

Sergei and Igor clear their throats. Damien and Kirill snicker, and Mikhail appears like he wants both our heads on the table in front of him.

I can’t believe he just said that.

He didn’t, right? Please tell me what I heard was a figment of my imagination.

“I’ll take her to rest.” Kyle carries me in his arms with effortless ease. I couldn’t resist even if I wanted to because the thing is still vibrating and my legs are Jell-O.

But at the same time, I hate how familiar this position in his arms has become, almost like it was a given.

Before we get out, the vibration increases. I release a squeal and then hide my face in his shoulder, muffling the sound as the toy thrums against my clit.

I bite on his shirt hard as the wave hits me out of nowhere.

Well, hell.

I think I just came.