Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Zarya managed to keep her feet underneath her when they landed in a forest with a river running next to them. A few meters to the right, and they would have landed in it.

The air was colder than it had been in Venice, and Zarya took a deep lungful of pine forest and autumn air. Arkon’s smokey burned sugar was mixed in with it, and she savored the combination.

"He’s an extravagant bastard, isn’t he?" Arkon said, and Zarya turned around. Stas’s house was a monstrosity of dark stone and wood and surrounded by extensive gardens and forest. The whole property was lit up with enough twinkling lights to power a small city.

"He wants everyone to know who is in charge of the empire’s finances. In Kyiv, he has to tone it down a little, but out here, he can show off his wealth as much as he likes," Zarya said, and they began to walk up the river path to the back garden. Arkon wrapped her arm around his.

"I wouldn’t want you to break your ankles in those pretty heels of yours," he said.

They blended into the crowd of masked people that were spilling out of the back of the mansion and around a series of heated pools. People were already in them, naked and fucking and frolicking. Zarya wasn’t a prude, not after growing up with a mother dedicated to a love goddess. It wasn’t what made her hate these people. It was the waste.

There were fountains of champagne and tables covered in piles of food that would just get tossed out. Zarya tried not to think of the hungry faces of the people she had seen through the empire on her way to Venice.

"You need to wipe the look of disgust off your face if you’re going to blend in," Arkon said and took two drinks from a waiter. He passed her one. "Do you see Stas anywhere?"

Zarya plastered a delighted expression on her face and then scanned the crowds. She recognized a few ministers, at least three oligarchs, and one minor Scandinavian prince. She was happy that she wasn’t the only one wearing a ridiculous outfit. This was a crowd of the rich and powerful who preferred their mistresses and bed partners to be pretty ornaments in skimpy outfits.

"No, he’s not here unless he’s wearing one of the full-face masks," she said and took a sip of her apple and cinnamon cocktail. "And Stas wouldn’t do that. He wants people to know who he is so they can fawn all over him."

Arkon raised a brow. "Sounds about right. You don’t seem to be worried that people might recognize their beloved Wolf Mage."

"This isn’t my kind of crowd." Zarya watched one of the drunk oligarchs in a toga chase a pretty twink dressed in only body glitter and angel wings. "You really think Arkadi would expose his saint to this kind of debauchery?"

"I suppose it worked in his favor to isolate you, so you were his alone." Arkon’s eyes darkened. "He was wrong about that. You were never going to belong to him." His fingers traced over the skin of her back, and her brain went foggy again.

"No?" she asked.

Arkon twirled his fingers around one of her curls. "No, baby. You’ve always been mine, and last night was proof enough of that."

"About that… Do we..." Zarya let out a breath and forced the words out. "Do we need to talk about what happened?"

"Which part? How you kissed me senseless and then blamed it on magic?" he asked before backing her into a shadowy corner. Zarya’s back hit the cold stone of the house. "Or how you touched yourself when you knew I would feel it."

"Y-You did it first."

"I did it without realizing that you’d be able to feel it." Arkon’s smile was merciless. "But you knew I would feel you, and you did it anyway. So which part of all of this do you want to talk about exactly?"

Zarya opened and closed her mouth a few times, struggling to get a word out at all.

"Are you mad about it?" she blurted, all her practiced speeches abandoning her.

Arkon traced a finger over the bruise he had put on her neck. "I’m furious about it. Trying to blame what’s between us is only because of our magic was a bad idea, lupa. You want to know why?"

Zarya’s voice was barely a whisper. "Why?"

"Because now I’m going to prove how wrong that is."

A familiar booming laugh broke through the fog in Zarya’s mind, and her eyes dashed to one of the buffet tables. Stas was wearing a crown of laurel leaves; his mask was just gold paint so there was no mistaking who he was. His graying golden hair shone brightly over his broad shoulders, and it matched his gaudy gold suit.

"Hold that thought, sorcerer," Zarya said and moved around him. The wolf in her scented prey, and that was going to take priority over whatever was happening between Arkon and her.

Zarya smiled shyly and walked over to the same buffet table Stas was at and picked up a small plate. She looked at the wide spread of fruits, cheeses, meats, and sweets and tried to appear overwhelmed. It wasn’t hard.

"I recommend the strawberry tarts," a deep voice said beside her.

"Thank you—Oh! You’re..." Zarya pretended to be flustered. "Um. Sorry, sir. Hello."

Stas chuckled softly. "Aren’t you adorable. I like that pretty bow around your throat." His fingers moved over the blossoming bruise on her neck, and she tried not to flinch in revulsion. "Someone been rough with you, sweetness?"

Zarya nodded and looked up from underneath her lashes. "Yes?"

"Oh, you like it, don’t you?" Stas chuckled softly. "No need to be shy about it. All kinds are welcome here..." He stroked his thumb over the bite again.

"What did I say would happen if someone else touched you tonight, baby girl?" Arkon said from behind her. Zarya froze at the fury in his voice. Stas only smiled at him.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was taken."

Arkon’s hand gripped Zarya’s bicep. "She is, but she has a habit of forgetting that. If you’ll excuse me, this brat needs to have her ass pinked."

Stas’s hazel eyes gleamed. "I can show you a private place...if you let me watch."

"And why would I do that?" Arkon demanded.

"D-Daddy, this is Mister Stas. Our host," Zarya stammered.

Arkon’s expression shifted but only a little. "Apologies, we haven’t met. I’m overprotective of my baby girl, and it makes me forget my manners."

"No need to apologize. If I had such a treasure, I would be the same way. Now, would you like me to show you to a room?" Stas asked, looking them both over like they were meat.

"I don’t share," Arkon said.

"I’m not asking you to. I’m only interested in the show," Stas replied. Zarya bit her bottom lip, and Stas stared at it. "No matter how tempting, I won’t touch."

"Then lead the way. I need this lesson to be known before there are any more ’misunderstandings’ before the night is out," Arkon said, his grip tightening on Zarya. Stas grabbed a fresh drink.

"This way," he said and started leading them through the crowd.

Arkon pulled Zarya to him and shielded her from anyone who got too close. Zarya tried to look suitably scolded when Stas turned to see if they were still following him.

Inside, the house was filled with expensive furniture, art, and sculptures. Zarya tried not to look at the people drinking and fucking and laughing and dancing. They were all off their faces on whatever party drugs and booze Stas had provided for the occasion. They went up one flight of stairs, and Stas unlocked a room.

"With this crowd, it pays to have at least one room close by that the miscreants can’t get to," he said, and Arkon laughed.

"It’s always good to have a plan," he agreed and shut the door behind him. Zarya felt a zing of his magic as he warded it so no one would hear or disturb them. Stas sat in an elaborate carved golden chair in front of a velvet couch. Clearly, he had done this before.

"Come along, baby. You had this coming, and you know it," Arkon growled, and Zarya’s heart sped up.

How far was she willing to let this go? How far would Arkon take it? Zarya had the magic to make it stop whenever she wanted, but her curiosity stopped her.

Arkon sat down on the couch and bent her over his thighs. Zarya’s face went red as his hand slid up the back of her legs and lifted her skirt up. His sure stroke paused momentarily, and she knew he was looking at the pretty white thong she had put on.

"She’s a naughty girl often, isn’t she? I know the type," Stas chuckled.

"The naughtiest."

Zarya went to turn her head, but Arkon brought his hand down on her ass and she yelped in surprise.

"You don’t look at him, baby girl. You look at me," he snapped.

Zarya turned to glare at Arkon. If he was playing, he had to be the best actor in the world. Lust was so raw on his face that her pussy clenched.

"Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy," she said, her face going even redder.

"Being good now won’t save you from me." Arkon brought his hand down on her other ass cheek. Zarya’s stared up at him, silently daring him to do it again. Arkon only smirked at her defiance and smacked her again a few times.

"Say you’re sorry for letting someone but me touch you," he demanded. Arkon rubbed the palm of his hand over one of her cheeks, soothing the sting.

"I’m sorry for letting someone that wasn’t you touch me," Zarya whimpered.

Arkon’s eyes glittered with tiny flames. "Say that you’re mine and no one else’s."

He was no longer putting on a show, and Zarya knew it. She thought of the longing and devastation on his face the previous night and knew she couldn’t lie to him again.

"I’m yours, Arkon. No one else’s," she said, not looking away from him. There was absolute victory in his eyes.

"Arkon?" Stas demanded, and Zarya froze at her slip of the tongue.

"Well, the game’s over now, lupa," Arkon said. Zarya was pushed to the floor as a gun went off. She lashed out with her magic, but Arkon was quicker. The bullet hung in the air in front of him before it dropped to the carpet.

"Mistake," he growled.

Zarya’s magic yanked the gun from Stas’s hand and crushed it. She kicked off her ridiculous heels and rolled to her feet. Her mask had come loose so she ripped it free.

"You! What the fuck?" Stas demanded, his face going red. Arkon’s magic had him locked into the chair, unable to move.

"Hello, Stas," Zarya said, fighting not to let her wolf free. "Now it’s a party."

"You traitor. You went to our enemies?" Stas spat, glaring daggers at Arkon.

Arkon only laughed. "Can you believe this guy? Not a minute ago he was desperate to fuck the both of us, and now he’s calling you a traitor."

Stas struggled again, making the chair rock. "Whatever it is you think I’m going to give to you, you’re wrong. I won’t betray the emperor."

Zarya sneered. "You misunderstand the situation, Stas. I don’t want information. I want you to die."

"Wait! You kill me, and I’ll never tell you where Strahil has your sister’s remains. This is what this is all about, right?" Stas said, sweat starting to bead on his red face. "I told him that you would know if he took Asa. Arkadi didn’t want to do it either, but he was getting scared of your power and that you would leave him. He needed something that could counter your magic, and Strahil told him that Asa’s blood and bones would do it. He’s keeping them, just in case you turn up. I swear, I was against all of it."

"And yet you did nothing to stop it from happening," Zarya said, ice filling her veins. They still had some of her sister’s remains. She thought they were long gone. She might be able to give Asa a proper burial after all.

"I can take you to Strahil. Organize a meeting with him?" Stas said.

"Don’t listen to him, Zarya. He’ll betray you the first chance he gets," Arkon interrupted.

"You would listen to the enemy over me? How long have you been working with him, Zarya? We all knew about your sick fixation, but to get on your knees for the Republic makes you the worst kind of whore."

Zarya moved to Arkon’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "As the Grand Sorcerer said before, I belong to him."

"You belong to Arkadi, bitch! Strahil will bring you to heel once more, and I hope he drinks the marrow from your bones!" Stas’s rant broke off as Arkon’s magic surged. Stas’s mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish as a horrible crunching sound started. Blood poured out of Stas’s eyes and mouth as his body compressed until it was nothing but a shattered mess of skin and organs.

Zarya’s heart was in her mouth at the display of stunning violence.

"I did tell you what would happen if someone else touched you," Arkon said, getting to his feet and straightening his cuffs.

"You broke..."

"Every bone in his body. I keep my promises, Zarya," Arkon said, turning her away from what remained of Stas, forcing her to look at his furiously beautiful face. "Say you don’t want me right now because I won’t be able to stop once I start."

Zarya knew she should probably be repulsed by what he had just done. She wasn’t. She was impressed and fascinated by the magic, the way he’d done it so efficiently. The control he had. His dark capacity for violence that matched her own. How frayed his self-control was. Oh, gods, she wanted all of it.

"Give me an answer, Zarya, or gods help me, I will make your ass even more sorry," Arkon snapped. Zarya wasn’t good with words, but she only needed one.

"Yes," she whispered.

Arkon’s mouth crashed into hers, and she pulled herself up into his arms. His hands gripped her heated ass, and she moaned against his ravaging mouth. Her hands dragged through his hair, and she kissed him harder. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and she tightened her thighs around his waist. He let out a strangled groan.

"Not here," he hissed.

As if they could read each other’s minds, Zarya pulled up the teleportation ring around them. Arkon let his magic charge it and kissed her again. Flames scorched the floor, and Zarya clung to him as the magic dragged them away.

They landed almost instantly in Arkon’s room in Venice. The spell had been seamless despite Zarya’s desperation.

Arkon dropped her to the bed, his grin vicious. "Now you’re going to learn why it’s not a good idea to play with fire, baby girl."