And that was the only warning Nikolai gave. He had his hand in the man’s hair, yanked his head back, and proceeded to take chunks out of him, bits of flesh he tossed to the ground so they made a disgusting wet slopping noise as they hit the cement.
The man screamed, begged, pleaded and cried. But his sobs couldn’t be heard over the roaring coming from the crowd. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t have gotten help anyway, not when Nikolai was calling the shots.
I didn’t know how long this went on, but long enough that I tasted blood in the air, a coppery flavor that coated my throat and had me gagging.
And when the man was a ruined, barely breathing mess on the ground, as his blood pooled around him and snaked its way toward me, I watched in stunned–sick–fascination as Nikolai grabbed one of the man’s hands and started cutting off the pads of his fingers.
He did this to all ten digits, the man giving one last gurgled sound as his throat was cut open, his eyes staring up at nothing.
Nikolai wiped his blade on the other guy’s jacket, pocketed it, and faced me. I was so stunned by what I’d just witnessed I felt like I was swimming underwater, unable to breath, my body feeling almost detached.
He didn’t move for long seconds, just watched me. Without breaking eye contact, he said something to the mountain of a man behind him, and a second later we were alone. But that only lasted for a few minutes and then two men were coming and dragging the two bodies away.
I covered my mouth with my hand as I watched the dark, inky looking blood trail behind them.
“Printsessa,” Nikolai said and there was this weird note in his voice.
When I looked back at him, I also took note that his expression was off. He was hiding something. Masking how he really felt. But I was too shocked by what happened to see too deeply into it.
And so I let him wrap his arm around my shoulders, felt him kiss the top of my head, and let him lead me out of that underground illegal fighting room, up the stairs, out the doors, and back into the hallway of the main establishment.
It was then when the noise rushed back into me. The sound of women giggling, glasses clinking filled my head. I blinked several times, the world settling itself around me. It was as if what I’d just witnessed happened to someone else. Elegance and lavishness surrounded me from top to bottom. Gone was the scent and taste of blood in the air, of the violence and shouting filling my head.
How did nobody hear what was going on downstairs? How did nobody know what was happening in the underbelly of this place?
The man who was initially guarding the front of the hallway glanced over his shoulder and lowered his brows. He looked between the two of us, then faced us and held his hands out. He started speaking quickly in Russian to Nikolai, and the entire time Nikolai held his arm around me, keeping me close to his side.
“Give me a minute,” he said and before I could question him, he had his hand curled under my chin and tipping my head back so he could press his mouth to mine.
He slid his other hand up the length of my spine and cupped the back of my head, curling his fingers against my scalp, tangling his fingers in the strands. He kissed me long, slow and deep and everything else faded away.
My fear, the anxiety and the shock of what I witnessed all melted away under the onslaught of his mouth devouring mine. He was slow as he pulled his mouth back, languished as he dragged his tongue over my top and bottom lip. He dragged his tongue over my lips again, an act, I realized, he did every time after we kissed, as if he were marking me.
He pulled back fully and looked down at me, that strange expression still on his face. And then he was striding up to the guard that stood several feet away. I brought my hand up to my mouth and touched my tingling lips, my body light, my pussy liquid. A shocked cry left me when out of nowhere Nikolai slammed his fist into the side into the man’s jaw.
The sound of something cracking filled the short hallway and I stumbled back, feeling my eyes widen as I watched Nikolai continue to slam his fist into the other man’s face over and over again.
“Stop.” My voice was threadbare. “Nikolai. For God’s sake stop.” I was shouting now, tears streaming down my cheeks. He turned and faced me, his chest rising and falling, a cold, hard and dead look in his eyes.
“He didn’t protect you,” he said matter-of-factly. “He had one fucking job to do and he didn’t fucking do it.”
I was shaking my head before he finished. “It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault.” I felt like I kept saying those words over and over again. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t.” I had my hands out, palms facing forward, moving slowly toward him. I didn’t know why I thought doing so was a good idea, with the blood and gore covering him, the cruel look on his face.
But the closer I got, the lower his brows went, as if he were confused I was coming closer, as if he didn’t understand why I would risk being so near to a feral creature.
I didn’t know the kind of upbringing Nikolai or his brother had, but I could imagine. Being a male in the Cosa Nostra meant you were brought up to be ruthless, with little love and an iron fist always in your face.
I could imagine it was the same with the Bratva. I could picture a small Nikolai as a child, his dark hair tousled, his blue eyes looking in horror as his father made him do unspeakable things. I could picture his innocence being stripped away, bit by bit, layer by layer until he’d been shaped and molded into the man who stood before me right now.
Beating the hell out of someone for the simple infraction of not seeing that I snuck away.
“It’s my fault. Not his. You don’t have to do this.” I kept my voice soft and low and reached up and cupped either side of his face. I could feel the scruff underneath my palms, and heard his breathing start to slow down as the seconds ticked by.
I didn’t dare look at the man he’d just attacked, but I could hear him moving, the groans and grunts as he pulled himself off the ground and stood. Without looking at him I said in a steady, even voice, “you need to go. You need to leave me and my husband alone.” Nikolai growled and I clicked my tongue. “Hey, you just focus on me. He’s no one, okay? He’s no one.”
Thankfully he didn’t question, didn’t speak. He kept his movement slow and steady, probably realizing Nikolai was right there at the precipice of breaking down once more, using violence to get his point across because that’s all he knew, all he’d ever been taught.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I smoothed my fingers over his cheekbones and added a little pressure to bring his head down toward me so I could brush my lips across his.