Her Crimson Reign Page 5

  Chapter 12

  Six

  As I look over at Gio, his breathing turns ragged. One look into his eyes and I can see that this is having the same effect on him as it’s having on me. The need to kill. The blood lust. We’re both drenched in the blood of these two men.

  He quickly closes the distance between us with three long strides and slams his blood soaked lips against mine. My mind goes blank at that moment and my lips part, giving him access. He slides his tongue inside to tangle with mine in a rough, demanding kiss that tastes of copper and sin.

  Trailing his hand up my back he winds his hands into my long white hair and roughly tugs on my strands sending a pulse straight to my core, while his other hand is on my ass. Pulling me forward causing his hard length to rub against my stomach, he then turns, pressing my back against the wall. He takes his knee and slides it between my legs causing me to straddle him and lifts me up as I wrap my legs around his waist with his cock now applying pressure to my center. As I twist both of my hands into his dark brown hair, I can feel his breath hitch and I find myself grinding against him to chase my own relief.

  Both of us are still panting from the roughness of our kiss, trying to catch our breath. But in just a short amount of time, I feel the pressure building up on the bundle of nerves at my center.

  Gio’s lips are pressed against mine while he grinds out words in a commanding voice that has me coming undone.

  “That’s it la mia pazza regina, my crazy queen. come for me. Now.”

  With one more thrust, I can feel the fireworks exploding within me as if electricity is running through my veins. He continues to work my hips against him as I ride out the last waves of the orgasm he’s given me in the middle of a blood-stained room with two dead bodies. And I couldn’t care less.

  Seconds later we’ve come to a stop and look around the room, taking in the two corpses that we need to dispose of. Neither of us expected the other's reaction, but I think we were both surprised by our lust. Not only for blood, but for each other. That he loves killing as much as I do excites me even more. I’m sure we’re only stopping right now because we need to get out of here soon.

  We untie the two men and lay them on the floor. I pull out a black rose and roll its edges in blood, then continue to stick it into the mouth of the man I killed. I look over and Gio is smearing blood over the guys face and proceeds by filleting his skin, cutting off identifying tattoos. He must have a signature too. Hold on.

  “You asshole!”

  His eyes go wide and he looks at me like I’ve gone mad. “What’s wrong?”

  “You killed that guy in the alley! He was on my list, but he had blood across his face. Your calling card, it seems.”

  He smirks at me, then talks. “Aww baby, do we have matching hit lists? How cute.”

  I cross my arms and begin to grind my teeth not only in frustration but anger at the fact that he got to the guy in the alley first, which he finds amusing and lightly chuckles.

  “Next time just let me know and I’ll make sure not to take your kills. Okay?”

  I nod my head in agreement, and we finish up before leaving the apartment.

  The ride back was unexpectedly quiet. It seemed neither of us were ready to talk about what happened between us back there, so I turned the music up as an excuse to keep it that way.

  I know I’m a guarded person. I mostly keep to myself and shut out the world, but the way he always acts, always outspoken if only towards me, I would think he wouldn’t be guarded like I am. However, his actions since we left the apartment say otherwise. He’s mostly keeping to himself and the easy banter we usually share isn’t there. It’s like we built a wall between us in a matter of minutes and I’m not sure he’ll let it back down. But most importantly, I need to figure out for myself if I want them to crumble or not.

  We barely know each other. But with him being Piero’s son mixed with the fact that we’re in the same business changes some things. In that moment, with both of us drenched in the blood of our guilty pleasures, it was as if his soul called out to mine and we were perfectly made for each other.

  After dropping him off at his home, I go to my house only to find that Kat isn’t home yet. She should have been here by now. I call Damon and he answers.

  “Hey Boss. What’s up?”

  “Where’s Kat?”, I quickly ask while trying not to panic.

  Just as I say those words I hear the sound of Kat’s voice quietly singing while she comes in the door. I hang up the phone without saying goodbye to Damon and head straight towards Kat. She looks up and smiles. Okay. I was obviously worrying over nothing. If I had to guess, my girl here must have had a good night. “Who’d you fuck?” I ask unashamed.

  Her eyes go wide and she laughs while answering. “No one. Yet.”

  I decide to leave it alone for now. It’s obvious that something or someone has shifted her mood tonight. She’s happier than normal. From my experience, this means one of two things, good news or good dick. Either way, she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

  Once I get to my room and take a shower, I change into black boy shorts and a black hoodie, and wrap my white hair into a wet, messy bun on top of my head. I grab the bottle of whiskey from my nightstand and make my way out to the double doors that open up to a balcony off of my bedroom.

  After I sit down on the chair, I take a few swigs from the bottle and lay back to relax, not sure what to think about tonight. But one thing I do know, this bottle will be empty long before I figure out what to make of Giovanni Moretti.

  Chapter 13

  Giovanni

  Sleep doesn’t seem to come to me tonight. I hate myself for being such an asshole to Six on the way home. Not that I said anything in particular to be an asshole, but the silence was deafening and I knew that I was the one to blame for that.

  We got lost in the moment and now I was lost in my head. I know what she did to those men tonight was nothing compared to what she normally did to her victims, and I could say the same for me. I feel like we both held back a bit of our crazy because it worried us that the other might not be crazy enough to handle it.

  I was afraid to show her everything for fear of scaring her away. What would I do if she saw all of me? I mean absolutely saw all of me. I could not lose the one person I’ve found that just might be able to handle not only the demons in my mind, but the demons in my heart.

  Six is nothing like her, which is why I feel like it could work this time. Mila was the complete opposite of me. She was light where I was dark. She was pure. Clean. Spotless. I was stained in the blood of my enemies and drowning in my demons. But light, pure, and clean was what I thought I needed.

  Maybe I thought deep down that her light might shine so brightly that it would eventually pull me out of the dark. I was selfish, and she was dead. That’s what happened when people got too close to me. Too close to my truths. Death always finds a way.

  Six wasn’t light, pure, or clean. She was stained and drowning in the darkness, just like me. She was a killer, just like me. She had her demons and they needed blood, just like me.

  I tried to save myself with Mila. But maybe I wasn’t meant to be saved. Maybe saving wasn’t enough. Maybe. Just maybe, my queen would drown in the darkness with me this time, and together we could free our demons from their cages completely. Or maybe not.

  I really don’t even know Six’s story. I only know who she is and what she does, to some extent. I know that her family somehow knows my family, but I know little more than that. I need to talk to my father about her before I go any further down this rabbit hole.

  He seems to be perfectly fine with it. Thinking back to the first night I met her at Reign, I remember my father leaving right before she came out to dance and telling me I should stay. Now he has us working together. I would almost think he’s trying to push us together. He’s smart enough to know we both prefer the dead to the living.

  Chance is really the only person I'm close to in my life, aside f
rom my father. He's like a brother to me. Much more like one than Devin ever was. Devin let himself get consumed with money and power. Not that those things aren't nice, but loyalty is worth much more. His lack of devotion to his own family cost him his life.

  I’ve yet to hear Six talk about her own family and I know my father won’t tell me. He’ll just say it’s not his story to tell, and he would be right. She wouldn’t appreciate me asking anyone but her. She may not even like me asking at all. But I feel the urge to get to know her, and if she’s being hunted I need to learn everything I can about her, including her friends, family and even her enemies if there are any to know.

  Through the night, my thoughts slow and sleep pulls me under.

  The next day I go to my father’s house and fill him in on the men, Anton and Pavel, from the night before and everything that happened, leaving out the heated moment between Six and me.

  He knows. He always knows. I wouldn’t have to tell him what happened between us. Piero Moretti is the only person who can read me like a fucking book.

  “Well, you’re still alive so you must not have pissed her off too much. But you look like you’ve got something weighing on your mind.”

  Shit. If she doesn’t seem to be too pissed off, does that mean she doesn’t care all that much about it? Do I care? Hell yeah, I care. Motherfucker. Now I’m all in my head.

  “Son?”

  Should I call her? Maybe just act like it’s about another mission. No. That’s a pussy move. I need to man the fuck up and just talk about it. We’re both adults. We can act like adults. Well, we’re adults who love killing and blood, but either way. Adults are adults. It’s settled then.

  “Son?”

  “Shit! Yeah? I mean, yes, sir?”

  My father shakes his head as he laughs, amused by my reaction.

  “Boy, you’ve got it bad, huh?”

  “Is it that obvious?” I ask, feeling called out.

  “I knew she’d catch your attention.”

  “Well, I need to face the music on this one, talk to her, and get out of my head or she’ll kill us all.” We both laugh, knowing damn well she would in fact kill us all if it came to it. Then again, loyalty. If there’s one thing I can say about Six, and know without a doubt it’s true, it would be she’s loyal to the bone and she knows loyalty is the essence on which our family was built.

  Chapter 14

  Six

  After a long sleepless night of tossing and turning, I gave my dad a call. I haven’t spoken to him in a few weeks. Fortunately, through the years my father and I did, in fact, get close enough to build a relationship. He knows what I do. He’s the one that set up the meeting for me to learn from Piero Moretti all those years ago.

  My mother, however, is a different story. After my brother’s death, I can honestly say the wicked witch showed her true colors. Sometimes she would beat me within an inch of my life, taking out her anger on me for what I had done. Never once believing what I had told her my brother tried to do to me. But she could only get away with it for so long. I never tried to hit her back in the beginning, but once I was old enough to stand up for myself, I did everything in my power to avoid the beatings, eventually getting them to stop all together.

  I became a master manipulator. I learned from the best. I would threaten her with the thought of me killing her in her sleep. For every strike she made at me, I struck her back tenfold. Eventually, she stopped hitting me and avoided me all together.

  I don’t think my father really believed me at first. Until he walked in on it and saw with his own eyes. By then, I had stood up for myself and he was witness to that. But one thing I’m glad for, he didn’t stop me from hitting her back. I could tell by his expression that it pained him.

  Sometimes I thought I saw fear in his eyes, but not because of me. The fear was there because of her. Not because she could hurt me, although I know that was part of it. But fear because something told me he was actually afraid of his wife. But the “why” is what I’ve yet to figure out.

  It was obvious that they never loved each other growing up, but I never knew why. I had asked time and time again why they even married if they didn’t care for one another and the answer was always the same, it was the right thing to do. But when I would ask him why he hadn’t left since I was gone, his face washed over with guilt.

  I believe the only reason they were still together was because he felt too guilty to leave. My brother was dead, she hated me, and my father was all that was left. But to each their own. I’ve offered time and time again to put her in the ground, but he laughs it off like I’m making a joke. Denial at its finest.

  “Hey Papa,” I say in a sugary sweet voice, but it doesn’t fool my father. He knows what brand of crazy he’s dealing with. Instead, he laughs like I’ve just told the funniest joke he’s ever heard and in a way, I have. The illusion of normalcy I try to give off at times can be quite convincing, unless you know me. Then you know there’s nothing normal about me. But no matter what, I’ll always be daddy’s little girl. Thank fuck for that.

  We met at one of my favorite places, Game Daze. It’s a game center, mostly for kids. But big kids can play most of the games too. There’s ski-ball, video games, air hockey, pretty much all of your favorite games that you would find at your local fair or carnival. And I’m a big kid. That, and that it lowers my risk of being killed by being surrounded by people, mostly children.

  “My sweet girl!” my papa says excitedly as he gives me a hug. We both laugh, because while most people would see this as a term of endearment, I’m far from sweet. After our embrace we find a booth off to the side and we both sit next to each other with our backs against the wall so I can still scan my surroundings, even though I brought additional security that’s blending in around the perimeter.

  While we’re eating our pizza, I tell him everything that’s occurred over the past few weeks, including the threat that Mr. Moretti received at his home against me. I look up to see my father’s face pale as he listens to me. I reach across the table and hold his hand to ease his fears and let him know I’m going to be just fine. I think that’s what I’m supposed to do. Comfort him.

  My papa’s an older man, in his late fifties, with a head full of grey hair and weary gray eyes to match. The same color as mine. He has a lean but muscular build and stands about six feet tall. I definitely got my height from my mother.

  Victor Petrova has aged over the years, but if you look deep into his eyes, you can see he still has a vibrant soul But my mother, Irina Petrova, could dim anyone’s light just by breathing the same air.

  “Malyshka, there're many things you do not know about your mother and I, but for now, let me tell you a story.” He often used malyshka as a term of endearment for me. It means baby in Russian.

  I look at him and give a small smile for him to continue.

  “When your mother and I first met, I was head over heels in love with her before she even knew I existed. I worked in my father’s bakery occasionally, and Irina would come in often with her mother and father. I would observe from afar and as she got older, I would watch as she would come in with her friends. One day she was crying at a table by herself and I didn’t know why so I went and sat with her trying to cheer her up. She thought my jokes were funny and found me charming.”

  I laugh, knowing that can’t possibly be true.

  “After that day, we spent more time together. But over time she came to trust me with her secret. She was pregnant with your brother, Adrian. See, her father worked for a family that wasn’t very kind to women and the man that she was to marry in a few short months when she turned eighteen, was unaware that she was with his child. She had seen him consorting with other women even though he was promised to her, and she said she had also seen him lay his hand upon others. She was terrified of the man. I had been in love with her for years as I watched her from the bakery, so I did the only thing I thought I could do. It was a selfish thing to do. But I don’t regret it to this d
ay.”

  “What did you do Papa?” I say with a strained voice, knowing where this is going.

  “I asked her to marry me and told her we could raise the baby together. Even though my father owned a bakery, it wasn’t his only business. He owned many others. So, I promised her we would come to America, far from what we thought was a threat to her and her baby. Money was no issue for me. But I was next in line to take over my family’s business. So, I cut ties with them. All for her. Part of what I’m trying to say to you, Anastasia, is that your brother was that baby. He was not my son. But you, my sweet girl, you are my daughter. Always.”

  I look into my papa’s eyes and see the tears. As messed up as the dynamics were between my papa, mother, and me during the past several years, it means a lot to me he wanted me to know he was never Adrian’s father but he was in fact mine.

  It was never about me killing Adrian. It was about what he would need to do to keep mama from killing me when I was younger. As I looked into his eyes, I could see it now, the love and understanding.

  The thrill that ran through me knowing that papa never seemed to take sides over me or Adrian because he wasn’t taking sides. He was always by my side. Anastasia’s side.

  Somewhere along the way I decided my new name was Six because I was six years old when I became the new me. I was reborn, changing how I saw the world, and my name needed to change with it. Anastasia died when my brother died. Everyone would comment about how I was only six years old. How could I do such a thing? She killed her own brother? I know how. Easily.

  This also meant that Adrian was only my half-brother. It’s a small win, but now I know without any doubt that my father was just that. Mine. Not his. But I still had many questions only my father would have the answers to.

  Chapter 15