Chapter 12Ivan

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Ivan

I van woke up on top of the incubus.

He'd fallen asleep spooning Nix, and he still had an arm and a leg thrown over him, but at some point in his sleep, Ivan had shifted so he was almost completely on top of the demon. Pressing him into the mattress, as if to keep him from leaving.

His erection was also pressed against Nix's firm ass, but of course, Ivan wasn't allowed to use it.

With no one to see it, Ivan's lips quirked into a small smile at the memory of Nix telling him off. Telling him no. It had been infuriating, but also…comforting, in an annoying way. Nix wouldn't let Ivan steamroller him, even if—even when —Ivan wanted to.

The last person Ivan had been able to say that about had been Alexei, but Alexei's defiance had come from a very different source. Hatred, maybe. Disgust, definitely.

Nix might misbehave, but he wasn't seething with ill- concealed disdain for Ivan like Alexei had always been. And he wouldn't be like Sascha, either, quietly resenting Ivan until the day he was finally able to escape his clutches.

The demon was different from both of them.

And Ivan hated to admit it, but the cuddling had helped calm him down. He felt less jagged than yesterday. Less out of control. His wrath had been overwhelming, when he'd found out Nix had slipped the Book away from him. As his anger always was.

Maybe everyone was right, and that was something to work on.

Or maybe Nix would hold Ivan at arm's length every time his temper got the best of him, and that would do the trick.

"Are you smiling ?"

Ivan smoothed his expression, his gaze darting to Nix, only to find Nix's eyes were still closed, his face pressed into the pillow.

"How would you even know?" Ivan asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"I could feel it," Nix said with a small grin, eyes shut tight. "It was like your soul piece got all…fizzy."

Right. Because there was a piece of Ivan's soul residing in Nix's chest, keeping the demon in the human realm. And apparently letting him know when Ivan smiled. It was hard to remember sometimes—it wasn't like Ivan could tell a piece was missing. Was that because his soul was too tarnished to feel whole in the first place? Probably. Too late to fix that. And anyway, losing a piece of it was worth it to keep this demon at his side.

But for how long?

There had been another element to Ivan's ire, besides Nix's abject disregard for his orders. Sascha had said he and Kai needed the Book to bond. And Nix had said Kai and Sascha's bond was a way to keep Kai in the human realm even after his contract was finished.

So for Nix to stay…

It wasn't like Ivan wanted to marry the demon—wanting to fuck him at every turn didn't mean Ivan was in the market for some supernatural husband—but he also didn't want Nix leaving before Ivan was ready either. And having the Book close at hand seemed to be the only way to prevent it.

And when will you be ready for him to leave?

Ivan scowled at his own question. He'd know when, of course. They couldn't continue on like this indefinitely, could they? Happy endings didn't exist in Ivan's world.

His mother had been proof enough of that.

"Oop. There goes the fizz." One of Nix's purple eyes popped open. "What's got you in a tizzy already?"

"Maybe I'm just pent up," Ivan told him, ridding himself of his useless thoughts and biting at Nix's neck. "Am I still forbidden from touching you?"

"That depends." Nix arched back, teasing his ass against Ivan's hard-on. "How were you planning on touching me?"

In answer, Ivan shifted all the way on top of Nix, pressing him into the mattress on his belly, rutting his erection between Nix's cloth-covered cheeks, wishing they were both nude already.

He gripped Nix's wrists with one hand, holding tightly. There was something intoxicating in the way he could hold the incubus as tight as he wanted, without causing him pain. Without Nix pulling away.

That had always been Ivan's problem—gripping things too tightly and losing them anyway when they chafed at his hold. But with Nix, he could grab on as hard as he could, and the demon wouldn't balk.

Nix chuckled, the sound slightly muffled by the pillow. "That's all well and good for you , but what about— Oh ." He groaned as Ivan slid his other hand into Nix's briefs, rubbing Nix's cock in time with his thrusts. "Oh, that's lovely."

Ivan would have to agree. He'd grown fond of the feel of Nix's cock. The demon's skin was soft and warm, and his absurdly viscous precum always made for a smooth glide. It was fascinating to Ivan, how similar in mechanics it was to touching himself, and yet how different it was in so many ways.

Nix, shameless as ever, wasted no time, humping against Ivan's hand, his dick pressed tightly between his hip and Ivan's palm. His actions had the fortunate side effect of his ass pressing against Ivan's hard cock again and again, and Ivan took full advantage.

It was a ridiculous way to get off—like Ivan was a teenager again, fucking against his mattress and hoping no one roaming the hallway would know what he was up to.

And yet it was nothing like that at all, because Nix's body was firm against his, his skin smelled like spice and smoke, and his grunts and groans sent shivers up and down Ivan's spine.

Ivan had wanted him so badly last night, even in his anger. He'd wanted to bury himself in his heat, to feel Nix's warmth against him.

And now he had him, even if he was too impatient to claim him completely.

And Ivan would keep him, here at his side, until he was ready to let him go.

Ivan grabbed Nix's chin with his free hand, claiming Nix's mouth as he rutted furiously against him. His incubus tasted oddly sweet, as he always did. Ivan probably tasted vile, but Nix didn't seem to mind, sucking on Ivan's tongue deliriously as he worked toward his finish against Ivan's hand.

"That's right," Ivan murmured against his lips. "Come for me, demon."

Nix did come first, greedy for it as ever, and Ivan groaned at the feel of Nix's hot release spilling over his own fist. It didn't take Ivan long to follow, a stuttered moan leaving his lips as the wave of pleasure took him under.

He rolled off Nix afterward, facing him on his side, sticky in his briefs and momentarily sated. He brought a finger to his mouth, curious. The taste of Nix's cum was as smoky as Nix's scent.

Nix grinned wickedly, a glow to his purple eyes. "That's a mental snapshot I won't be forgetting anytime soon."

Ivan grunted, licking the last of the taste off his lips. He sat up, tugging Nix's arm until he followed Ivan out of bed.

They were lucky enough not to run into anyone in the hallway, and Ivan cleaned them both brusquely in the shower, not allowing for any of Nix's games, no matter how his hands wandered. Ivan could tell by the light that it was already later than he usually slept, and he didn't want to give Sascha a reason to come looking for them before they were presentable.

They found the house's strange trio of residents in the kitchen.

Sascha and Matteo were eating cereal at the kitchen table, while Kai was standing against the counters, gulping out of a horrifically large mug of coffee that still managed to look relatively tiny in his hands. He was a huge creature—there'd been a reason Ivan had wanted a warrior demon of his own.

But there was something oddly distasteful about it now. All that brute force, with no finesse to speak of. Ivan preferred the subtle strengths of his incubus.

He'd gotten the better deal in the end, hadn't he?

He sat at the table and poured himself a bowl of cereal, starved after barely touching his dinner the night before.

He looked up halfway through to find Nix seated across from him, staring at him raptly. Ivan paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "What?"

Nix raised his brows. "Nothing."

Sascha grinned around his own mouthful. "It's weird, isn't it? When he does mundane stuff."

Ivan gave his brother an unimpressed look. "It's cereal."

Although, it was true Nix hadn't seen much of Ivan at home yet, not when Ivan had been running to and from the office at all hours when they'd been in New York.

"I don't know what I was thinking." Nix leaned back in his chair, making a show of his surprise now. "Maybe that you'd be eating bullet casings soaked in whiskey for breakfast."

"We're Russian," Ivan deadpanned. "They'd be soaked in vodka."

That pulled a giggle from Matteo, though he went silent, his face paling, when Ivan looked his way. He was a strange sort. Unreasonably timid, considering he'd been raised around Mafia men, same as Ivan and his brothers. Kai and Sascha had rescued him from the Carusos, where he'd been—according to Ivan's informants—treated none too kindly by his stepfather, Luca Caruso.

What he was so scared of now, after that family had been taken down, was anyone's guess.

Maybe he was just too traumatized to pull it together.

Either way, Ivan needed him out of the house, or at the very least the room. Ivan shot Nix a pointed look, reminding him of what they'd discussed in the shower, and his demon cleared his throat. "So I was thinking, Kai," Nix said brightly. "That you and Matteo could show me around town."

"Why?" Kai asked bluntly, either genuinely not understanding or stubbornly refusing to take the hint.

"Because I'd like to speak to Sascha alone," Ivan told him just as bluntly.

Kai set his coffee down, crossing his arms. "No."

"Kai," Sascha chided gently.

Kai looked at him beseechingly, like a dog who'd been reprimanded for guarding the home. "I don't trust him," he growled as if Ivan weren't right there.

Sascha shared a long look with him, the two of them seeming to come to some sort of unspoken agreement, and then turned to Nix. "How about you and Matty start out, and Kai will follow after we know what Ivan has to say."

Ivan ground his teeth, a familiar hot rush of anger coursing through his veins. "I'm not allowed to speak with my own brother alone?" A hand landed on his shoulder, and Ivan shot Nix a frosty look. " What ?"

Nix raised a brow at him. When Ivan didn't react, Nix mouthed the words control issues at him.

Ivan scowled. If Nix was referring to their conversation from the night before… "It's different," he argued.

This wasn't about him being a control freak. It was about the principle of the thing. He and Sascha were tied together by blood—Ivan should be allowed to speak to him without that big brute of a demon husband butting in.

But Nix only cocked his head. "Is it really?" he asked mildly.

Goddamn it.

Ivan relaxed his jaw with effort, setting down his spoon. "Fine," he said, pushing his bowl away from him. "We can have the chaperone."

Kai raised his mug smugly. "As if you had any choice."

After Nix left with Matteo (the little stowaway looking aghast at finding himself running off solo with an incubus), Ivan remained in the kitchen with Sascha and Kai.

Kai who had set aside his coffee once again, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that made his enormous biceps bulge, as if the kitchen needed a paranormal bouncer to protect its occupants from Ivan.

Sascha seemed to ignore Kai's ridiculous posturing easily enough. He had his own coffee steaming in front of him. As did Ivan, although he preferred tea .

"So what's up?" Sascha asked, worrying the sleeve of his brightly colored shirt. "You change your mind about me running one of your clubs?"

Just the suggestion of it had Kai growling at Ivan, like Ivan had said the words himself.

Ivan raised a brow at him, refusing to be cowed. "Charming," he sneered. He turned back to Sascha. "No, I haven't changed my mind. I—" He paused, realizing he had no idea how to say what he wanted to say.

I've been fucking my incubus, and it turns out he has some decent business ideas?

I've been fucking my incubus, and now the intolerance I've let slide for so long is no longer acceptable?

Or better yet…

I've been fucking my incubus, and I'm realizing our father was not only a deranged psychopath but a fallible one.

He cleared his throat, tapping at the table with one finger. He settled on the vague statement, "Nix has some ideas about restructuring."

"Okaaay…," Sascha said slowly, clearly needing more detail.

"We're looking to change up the men," Ivan told him. "Get rid of those that hold father's old…ideals."

"Get rid of how?" Sascha immediately asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

"They'll be given a chance to walk away," Ivan said easily.

He didn't add what would happen if the men refused that chance. Sascha was flighty but not stupid.

"What kind of ideals are you looking to weed out?"

"The hair-trigger violence. The changeable loyalties. The…bigotry."

Sascha's face gave nothing away, even though Ivan knew for a fact he had some strong opinions on the way their father's men had always looked at him. The way they'd judged him. The way Ivan had…strongly suggested Sascha dress and act a certain way to prevent them from doing so.

"Why now?" was all Sascha asked.

"I never considered it an option before. But it would…ease things, to have a less hostile group. Less paranoia on my end, you might say."

Sascha had always accused Ivan of that: paranoia. He thought Ivan was too controlling. Too suspicious. Ivan had resented him for it. Resented that Sascha wasn't the same way. That he hadn't been forced to be by their father.

"Your mole," Sascha said suddenly. "You figured out who it is?"

Ivan's finger stopped its tapping, fists clenching instead. "Sergei."

"Sergei?" Sascha let out a disbelieving laugh. "He raised you. And Alexei. And me, if I hadn't been away at boarding school so much."

"Father raised us," Ivan corrected. "Sergei only…helped."

"But…why? Why would he do that?" If Sascha was hurt by one of his guardians being the reason he'd gotten stabbed, he didn't show it. Confusion seemed to be his main emotion.

Ivan shrugged a shoulder, the movement jerky. "I don't know why."

"Is he dead?"

"Not yet." Ivan grimaced. If fucking only. "Jace has eyes on him for the moment. Sergei put out a hit on me, but its failure seems to have left him scrambling."

Sascha nodded thoughtfully. He toyed at the handle of his mug. "Why are you telling me this, anyway? You've always liked keeping me in the dark."

"We could use a show of strength," Ivan said shortly, his eyes darting to Sascha's demon.

Sascha straightened. "You want Kai."

"Yes. "

Sascha and Kai shared a look. "We said no more Mafia stuff," Sascha said with a heavy sigh, slumping slightly. "But let me think it over."

"It could be a step toward legitimacy," Ivan found himself saying, thinking of his conversation with Nix the night before. "A step away from the less savory aspects of the business."

Sascha met his gaze. "Don't say it if you don't mean it," he said, a surprising amount of steel in his tone.

"This whole plan was Nix's idea?" Kai asked in his low rumble, speaking for the first time since the conversation had begun.

"Yes. He's been…useful to me," Ivan admitted. "He reads people well. He can help figure out those who are truly loyal and those that will need to be removed."

"He does read people well," Kai agreed. Then, abruptly, "He likes the human realm."

"I know."

"He was desperate to return to it," Kai continued, his gaze locked onto Ivan's now. "Desperate enough to take an unfavorable contract."

Ivan's fists clenched again. He didn't like to think of the contract as unfavorable so much as…flexible. "So it seems," he said coolly.

"So desperate to stay in the human realm he'll even put up with the likes of you."

"Again," Ivan said through clenched teeth. "So it seems."

"I'd be careful if I were you. If he brings up talk of a bond…just know it's nothing personal." Kai's blue eyes started to take on a subtle glow. "Desperate desires lead to desperate acts."

Sascha turned in his seat, wide-eyed. "Kai!"

Kai scowled guiltily, reminding Ivan of a toddler caught misbehaving, the glow in his eyes subsiding. "I'm only saying."

What the fuck was he saying? Ivan let anger over the demon's unwelcome meddling push aside the unexpected pang Kai's comments had wrought. It was stupid of him, that he hadn't considered Nix was putting up with him just to stay. It was only…Nix seemed to delight so in tormenting him.

But maybe Nix delighted equally in tormenting all humans.

Maybe Ivan was nothing special to a demon like that.

"He's just being protective is all." Sascha laid a hand on Ivan's clenched fist, like Ivan needed comforting.

Ivan shook off his unease, leaning into the familiar anger instead. He drew his hand back. "Protective of his demon kin. Protective of you too." He narrowed his eyes. "Tell me, Sascha, why would your demon need to protect you from me?"

For all their brutal upbringing, Ivan had never once harmed Sascha. No matter Sascha's forgetfulness, or flightiness, or sass. Ivan had never laid a finger on him.

Old Sascha—the one from before the stabbing, before Maine, before Kai—would have taken the hint from Ivan's words and said something silly or inane. But this new Sascha met Ivan's gaze squarely. "Because you have hurt me in the past, intentional or not." He sipped his coffee, clearly not expecting a response to that, and they sat in silence for a moment.

Ivan could let it be. He always had before, when Sascha acted up about their dynamic. When he brought up Ivan's supposed failures as a brother.

Instead, he said quietly, "Not." At Sascha's raised brow, Ivan clarified, "You said intentional or not." He met Sascha's gaze evenly. "Not."

Sascha hummed, keeping the eye contact for a prolonged moment, then turned to Kai. "If you want to join Nix and Matty, I wouldn't mind some time alone with Ivan."

For all his posturing, Kai didn't hesitate once Sascha made his wishes known. He bent low for a kiss, shot one last glare at Ivan, and walked out of the kitchen.

Ivan waited to hear the front door shut before he spoke again. He'd thought to tell Sascha more details of what he and Nix were planning, but instead found himself asking, "Do you remember the man you walked in on being tortured?"

It was a stupid question, and maybe a cruel one. Ivan already knew Sascha remembered. It was the reason Ivan's brother couldn't stand the sight of blood. He'd been too young to see such butchery—a full decade younger than Ivan at the time—and it had taken its toll.

Sascha paled but nodded. "I do."

"He was the son of a local mob boss." Ivan could see him now, as he'd looked before the torture. Relatively young and plain-looking, but strong. He'd seemed quite strong, actually, before Ivan's father and his men had gotten their hands on him. "Not any huge organization, but big enough to have our father's attention. The man's father had passed, and he tried to take over, as had been planned." Ivan tried and failed to relax his fists. "He failed. A brother or a cousin set him up and he ended up in our hands. You know what happened then." Sascha nodded, his face still ashen. "After you left, Father had me put a bullet in him to end it."

Sascha gripped the table, as if to steady himself. " Ivan . You were only, what, sixteen?"

"My first kill." Ivan's lips twitched into a bitter smile. "Father wanted me to know the consequences of failure."

"That's fucked up," Sascha hissed, some of the color returning to his face. He seemed to let it sink in for a moment, then repeated, waving a hand in agitation, "That's so fucked up. And it's fucked up that you've believed him for so long. Not every mistake ends in gruesome death, Ivan. Jesus."

Sascha didn't wait for Ivan to argue, just frowned down at his mug, speaking thoughtfully, "If Nix…if having him around is helping you rethink some of the ways we were raised, then…" He met Ivan's eyes. "I don't care if he's desperate or has ulterior moti ves. Keep him around. And we'll help, with the…restructuring. Me and Kai."

Was that why Ivan had told Sascha the story? To manipulate him into helping? Or had he been looking for some sort of catharsis? Ivan didn't know. He couldn't tell anymore. It was probably Nix's fault somehow. He was turning Ivan into something soft. Into the type of person that shared things.

But if it brought Ivan's brothers around…

"You think you can talk Alexei into doing the same?" he asked.

"Unlikely. Very unlikely."

Ivan nodded. He hadn't expected any different.

They passed a moment in silence before Sascha said, frowning down at his mug again, "We should put whiskey in this coffee."

"It's ten a.m."

"So? You just told me about your first murder. As a teenager ."

Ivan shrugged. It wasn't as if the memory was new to him. But also…what else did he have to do in Maine?

He raised his mug. "All right, then. Let's get drunk."