Chapter 3Ivan

3

Ivan

I van woke up where he almost always woke up—the spare bedroom in his office building. He was as familiar with the bare wall in front of his eyes as he was the back of his hand. And it might not have been a five-star hotel, but it was much preferable to his father's old habit of napping on a cot in his warehouse.

Maybe sleeping poorly had been part of why the old man had been such a miserable son of a bitch. Maybe not.

It was best not to try to figure it out. Nothing good came from going down that road.

What had woken Ivan up? Not his alarm.

Ivan turned away from the wall he was facing and was met with glowing purple eyes. Only years of "training" as a child not to flinch—not to show any sign of weakness—kept Ivan from shooting up in bed.

Right, he'd summoned a demon yesterday. An incubus, as if he had any use for one of those. An incubus who was staring at him, very, very close.

Weren't incubi the demons that preyed on sleeping humans?

Ivan let himself blink once. Twice. His heart rate was elevated, but that wasn't something another person would be able to tell. "What are you doing, exactly?" he asked, pleased with how measured and calm his voice came out.

Nix was kneeling at his bedside, arms folded over the side of the bed with his chin resting on top. Ivan turning over had placed their faces only a hair's breadth apart.

Nix's slow grin emphasized his plush lips, but Ivan kept his gaze determinedly on his eyes. "Watching you sleep, my liege."

"Why?"

If the smile was dangerous, the pout was lethal. "Because I got bored."

"Sascha should be here soon." Ivan did sit up now. Careful. Controlled. "And I need to freshen up."

What he needed was to get away from those lips. That face. That spiced scent.

He rose from the bed and strode to the bathroom, busying himself with becoming human again. He brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face, put his hair to rights.

He returned to the bedroom with his heart rate under control and his sense of self securely back in place. Incubi were designed to be tempting, weren't they? But that didn't mean Ivan needed to be tempted. He was stronger than that.

Nix was sitting on the bed now, long legs crossed, his tail flicking back and forth. It looked almost like a lion's tail, long and lightly furred, with a tuft of soft-looking hair at the end. Except unlike a lion's tail, it was red.

It was…distracting.

As were the legs .

Jesus fucking Christ, what was wrong with Ivan's brain? He didn't fuck men. Not once, not ever.

But he'd never met a man who looked like Nix.

It was…confusing him. The long hair. The pretty face. The tail. The strange mix of it all was messing with Ivan's brain; that was all it was. It had been too long since Ivan had taken someone.

He clearly needed to fuck something.

Isn't fucking an incubus's specialty?

Ivan dashed the thought from his mind. He had enough trouble holding on to his organization without adding men to his repertoire. There was already Alexei and Sascha, and Ivan knew how his men spoke about them when they thought he couldn't hear.

More so about Sascha, since Alexei would have been able to beat them all into the ground, the massive fuck.

Still, straight was simpler. Straight was…well, straight was just what Ivan was . He liked fucking women. He always had.

He ignored the incubus and his legs and tail, making his way to the freestanding clothing rack that held his suits. He flicked through his shirts, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top two buttons as he did so.

Nix stayed right where he was.

Ivan finally shot him a glance. " Well ?"

"Yes, Vanya?" Nix asked, all innocence. He did that a lot for someone who was supposed to be on Ivan's side. Lied through false affect. Or omission. Or just directly to Ivan's face.

"I'm changing," Ivan told him.

"Mm." Nix's tail flicked out again. Once. Twice.

"Do you mind ?"

"Not at all." Nix rose from the bed and sauntered—had Ivan ever met anyone before who actually sauntered?—Ivan's way, that fucking tail swishing behind him. Ivan expected him to continue past and through the door, but Nix stopped right in front of him. Close.

Too close.

Before Ivan could tell him off, strong hands were delving into Ivan's hair and scratching at his scalp with a gentle, soothing touch. The incubus had sharp talons at the ends of his fingers—it shouldn't have felt good. It should have hurt.

It didn't.

It took all Ivan's self-control not to close his eyes and groan. How long had it been since someone had touched him like this? It wasn't a kind of familiarity he allowed his random fucks.

But just as quickly as they'd surprised him, the hands were gone.

"There," Nix said with satisfaction.

Ivan blinked dazedly at him. Had Nix only been…messing up his hair?

What the fuck was this creature's game?

"Listen, demon," he started harshly.

"Listen, Nix ," the incubus had the gall to correct.

"Listen, Nix." Nix had a long, elegant neck, and Ivan wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around it and squeeze. Would he listen then, with Ivan's tight grip around his throat? "You are here to serve me, aren't you? Mine to summon. Mine to command. My demon." Ivan wasn't sure the point of that last part, but it felt right coming out of his mouth.

Nix didn't look chastised. He looked…intrigued. He trailed his finger down Ivan's chest. "Mm, tell me more about how I'm yours, baby."

"I—that's—"

The intercom at Ivan's desk went off, loud enough to be heard in the bedroom. "Sascha's on his way up," the security guard at the front desk reported.

Ivan would deal with this—this insubordination later. "Stay here," he told Nix before making his way into his main office, taking a seat behind his desk.

Sascha arrived a moment later, dressed in a way that was clearly meant to be a "fuck off" to Ivan's old constraints. Instead of his old black suits, he was wearing white and baby blue, and gold fucking jewelry.

He looked so similar to Ivan—the same pale coloring, with similar refined features—only younger and smaller. Softer. Was it the softness in him that had made their father choose to protect rather than torment for the first time, when it came to his children? Or had it just been the unlucky happenstance of the order of their birth?

Close behind Sascha came the demon brute, his horns and blue skin nowhere to be found.

He was still a huge fucker though.

"Sascha," Ivan greeted. "I expected you ages ago."

Sascha, predictable as ever, immediately started with demands. "We need the Book, Ivan."

Anger flared, hot and bitter in Ivan's veins. It was so like his baby brother, to have a weapon at his disposal and not think to share it with Ivan. To not think their family might need every bit of protection it could get. He was selfish, just like Alexei.

"Why?" Ivan asked. "To summon more demons, perhaps? Maybe give one to Alexei? Then the two of you can really fuck me over."

Sascha threw his hands up like the spoiled brat he was. "God, Ivan, what the fuck? You really think we're conspiring against you? When have I ever wanted even a piece of your empire? You're such a lunatic."

"Am I? I had two brothers who were supposed to be at my side. Now I have none."

"Well, maybe you should take a long, hard look at the way you treat people. "

Ivan sighed. It was always like this with his brothers. As if feelings trumped safety. As if they hadn't been raised in the same dangerous world Ivan had. (Never mind that Sascha hadn't, really. Had been sent away to school for most of it. He still knew enough to know better.)

Sascha thought Ivan power-hungry without ever considering that Ivan's power was all that kept him from being shot down in the street.

Their father's rise to the top hadn't come without its costs, and one of those was a host of enemies that would be eager to bring any one of the Kozlov children down.

"I don't have time for this," Ivan told him.

"You never do!" Sascha yelled. Predictably, he began chastising Ivan for being the way he was. The way he'd always been. "What would it take for you to just chill out for a few seconds and act like a real brother and not a controlling asshole?"

Ivan didn't have an answer for that. He might be controlling, but he'd been that way for a long, long time. It was too late for him to change, and Sascha should know that by now.

And then there was Nix's voice, sultry as ever. "Personally I think he needs to get laid, but that's just me. I could be biased."

So much for staying in the inner bedroom.

Nix was…human-appearing now. Like Kai. Except Nix didn't look like a brute in his human form. He looked like sin incarnate. And he was wearing sunglasses indoors, for some reason.

Kai growled at his appearance. "Incubus."

Ivan was distracted, not at all himself, as Kai and Nix bickered (apparently the demons knew each other), Sascha wide-eyed and flustered by Nix, mentioning something about a bond.

All of it was white noise until Ivan saw Kai's hand around Nix's throat.

Rage, swift and sure, had him rising to his feet and snapping out, "Get your hands off my demon. "

Just because he wanted to wring Nix's neck didn't mean anyone else was allowed to.

But apparently Nix didn't need his protection. He slid out of Kai's hold like nothing but his own will had kept him there in the first place. And then Sascha was suggesting privacy, and Nix and Kai were heading to the inner office, Nix agreeable to Sascha's request in a way he had yet to be with Ivan.

Leaving Ivan with Sascha.

"You know I love you, right?"

Ivan clenched his jaw, taking his eyes off the door to the room Nix had disappeared into.

Of course that was the first thing Sascha told Ivan. Of course he thought the emotion behind it all would trump the rest. That love would fix what was broken.

Love is a weakness , his father's voice taunted. And you know what happens to weak men?

It wasn't Sascha's fault, exactly. Their father had raised him differently—the pampered baby, exempt from the life that ruled the rest of them. It was something Ivan still didn't understand, with his father's disdain of softer emotions. But maybe in the end he was nothing more than a hypocrite. Maybe he really had loved Sascha more than his two older sons, had wanted something better for him than the painful, jagged lessons in brutality he'd given them all their lives.

"It's okay if you can't say it back," Sascha told him with a sad smile. "But I didn't summon Kai to hurt you."

"I'm aware."

"Then why did you steal the Book and summon your own demon ten seconds after discovering him?"

Why did Ivan even need to explain this? "I have a mole in my organization," he said evenly. "A mob war on the horizon, a loose cannon of a middle brother, and an oblivious younger one."

Did that make it clear enough?

But Sascha focused on the wrong words, as usual. "I'm not oblivious," he argued. Ivan gave him a pointed look, and Sascha conceded, "Okay, sometimes. But that's the way you and Papa molded me. I have a business degree, you know. I could be an asset, if you'd let me."

Except Sascha still didn't get the point . Whether the summoning was intentional or not, Sascha had kept it from Ivan. Even knowing there were men after their family, men who had ordered Sascha stabbed and would no doubt like to do worse.

It was just another reminder Ivan was doing it all alone.

And yet Sascha claimed he wasn't oblivious? That he could handle being an asset to Ivan's business? That suddenly—out of nowhere—he wanted to be useful?

Sascha let out a big sigh, like Ivan was the problem. "I know our family messed you up. Papa…being Papa. Mom leaving."

Ivan looked away. He knew better than to touch that lie. He knew what it would do to Sascha. And still he found himself saying, "Our mother didn't leave." He couldn't help but laugh at Sascha's clueless expression. "I thought Alexei would have told you by now," Ivan said bitterly. Those two had always been thick as thieves, hadn't they? "Our mother didn't leave," he said again. "Our father had her killed."

Sascha's continued confusion only stoked Ivan's sudden rage. Had Alexei really not known? Had their father kept him in the dark?

Why had Ivan been the only one to bear this fucking burden?

Why was it always only him?

"She intended to leave," Ivan explained coolly, keeping his anger contained, letting it burn at his insides rather than show on his face. "She was going to take you and Alexei with her." Another bitter laugh escaped him. "Not me. I suppose she thought at eleven years old, I was already a lost cause. And while our father might have been willing to let her go, he wasn't willing to lose his sons. He ordered a hit."

He could still remember his father showing him the body, Sergei's hand heavy on Ivan's shoulder. "This is what happens to those who run, Vanya."

Across from him, Sascha's breathing turned jagged. He was panicking, not as adept at controlling his reactions as Ivan had always been forced to be.

Ivan sat still through it, watching his youngest brother gasp and choke. He remained still and calm. Nonreactive. That was the only way to be.

Eventually Sascha seemed to get a hold of his breathing. "And Alexei knows this?"

"I always assumed he did." Ivan shrugged. He'd never discussed it with Alexei point-blank. Nothing good would have come of it. "Maybe I assumed wrong."

Sascha cried some more, and Ivan waited it out.

"Okay," Sascha finally said, meeting Ivan's eyes. "Okay. So I guess the question is, How like our father are you going to be, Ivan?"

You need to be exactly like me, Ivan, if you want to survive. If you want those brothers of yours to survive with you.

Ivan didn't answer him.

But apparently Sascha didn't need an answer, and Ivan forced himself to focus as Sascha began to list his demands. He wanted to stay in Maine—wanted to get away from Ivan, more like. He wanted to run one of the legitimate businesses—not get his hands dirty with the rest, of course. And he wanted Ivan to visit only if he acted like someone other than himself. Human. Caring. Brotherly.

Finally, they got to the point of it all. To the Carusos and the meeting Ivan had scheduled that would allow Sascha's demon to do away with key members of the family.

When Sascha realized Ivan had anticipated his arrival, he gave Ivan an accusatory look. "You planned this, didn't you? For me to bring Kai and fix it for you."

At least Sascha was finally paying attention to the game.

"Maybe I've grown tired of cleaning up our family's messes all on my own," Ivan told him.

" Your messes."

"Alexei started it," Ivan pointed out. It had been Alexei running like a coward that had been the turning point here. How exactly was that Ivan's mess?

"Alexei just wanted out," Sascha told him, defending their middle brother like he always did. "That's all he ever wanted. To have his own life."

Who the fuck didn't want that? And why did his brothers think wanting something meant it could be a reality—without consequence, without bloodshed? "Some of us don't have that luxury," Ivan told Sascha.

Maybe it was the residual fatigue from having summoned a demon, but the rest of it was hazy. Ivan gave Sascha the Book so he could bond with his demon, whatever that meant. Kai burst in from the inner room and acted as if Sascha were a helpless, wounded puppy Ivan had kicked.

And then they were gone.

Nix turned around from where he'd been yelling after Kai. Teasing him about their time in the Void together. "Leaving without a goodbye? Does this mean you don't want to spend another eternity together? I'm hurt, Kai!"

He really did tease everyone, then.

But Nix's grin dropped quickly when he caught sight of Ivan's face. Which was funny because Ivan's face was a blank fucking slate. "What's wrong? "

Ivan tapped his fingers on his desk. "Why would anything be wrong?"

Nix narrowed those striking purple eyes. "I have a piece of your soul in my chest, Ivan. I can feel when you're hurting."

Ivan grimaced. That was…inconvenient.

Or was it? The demon was obligated to help him, bound by the contract between them. For once, maybe it didn't matter if Ivan showed his cards a bit.

What a novel thought.

"I told him our father murdered our mother."

Nix cocked his head. "And was that the truth?"

It was a good question. Ivan couldn't help but smile. At least the incubus was no fool. "It was the truth. She was going to take my brothers and run."

Again, Nix heard what was unspoken. "Not you?" he asked immediately.

"Not me."

"Mommy issues," Nix murmured, tapping his finger against his lips.

Ivan almost laughed. "My father murdered my mother in cold blood and you're calling it ‘mommy issues'?"

"Yeah," Nix said with a shrug. "Your walls are miiiiiles high, and now I know why."

"The walls were there before she was killed," Ivan found himself saying.

Nix nodded knowingly. "Mommy and daddy issues. Called it."

Who the fuck was this creature? Was it a demon thing, that Ivan could tell Nix one of the worst things in his past and Nix could take it in stride? Tease him about it?

Ivan refused to be charmed by it. "I regret summoning you," he said.

Nix gave a bright, high laugh. "No, you don't. You're just in a foul mood. "

"I'm always in a foul mood."

Nix cocked his hip, giving Ivan a once-over. "Even when you fuck?"

"Especially then," Ivan snapped.

His words didn't even make sense, but Nix grinned and gave an exaggerated shiver, as if Ivan had said something delightful. "Then, Vanya, baby, you've been fucking the wrong people."

Silence was the only acceptable answer. Ivan kept his mouth shut.

Nix's inspection of him grew appraising. "You're drooping like a wilted flower. When did you last eat? Don't humans need food to survive?"

Ivan grabbed his phone off his desk, losing interest in the conversation. He'd been distracted for days now, and there was real work to do. Calls to make, at the very least. "We can have Tara order something," he said absently.

"Mm, no."

Ivan looked up from his phone. "No?" he repeated.

"You have a home, yes?" Nix asked. "Somewhere that isn't this depressingly bare office?"

Ivan almost gave him another smile for the audacity. Almost. "This office cost quite a bit of money to renovate, you know."

Nix waved a hand at the walls. "And you couldn't have sprung for a painting or two? A vase of flowers, perhaps? Either way, I don't want to be here anymore." He clasped his hands to his chest, fluttering his lashes. "Take me home, big boy?"

Ivan should refuse, if only to show Nix he couldn't be pushed around. But he was…tired. Still foggy. And he should make an appearance at the apartment every now and again, if only to remind the building staff who paid their bills. "I'll need to work still."

Why was he even telling Nix that? It made it sound like he was asking permission .

"Perfect." Nix clapped once and then began walking out of the office, clearly expecting Ivan to follow. "You can show me the ropes."

Ivan had a feeling he'd lost his way somewhere. That their roles had been switched somehow. Nix certainly wasn't acting subservient, not in the least. Ivan should put a stop to this, yes? Remind Nix who was in charge?

He really should.

Ivan stood from his desk and followed the demon.