Page 55 of Crimson Oath
He could rip Ivan’s head from his body. He could dig his fingers into Ivan’s neck and send his fire into his brother’s puny brain.
He could tell Mika to leach the water from Ivan’s system, then use Ivan’s desiccated body as the center of a bonfire.
“You’re actually imagining how you’re going to kill Ivan right now, aren’t you?”
“Why the fuck are we going into his territory?” Oleg muttered. “We could fly this driver to Sochi for a holiday.”
“We’re going” —Mika leaned forward— “because it is not Ivan’s territory, it isyours.”
Right. Moscow was his even though he disliked the city.
“You’ve allowed Ivan too much independence. When people hear the Sokolov name now, what do they think of?” Mika asked. “Weapons dealing? Drugs and alcohol?”
“And your point is?” Oleg didn’t care what his reputation was as long as it kept his people safe. In fact, the worse his reputation was, the more enemies would keep away.
“When they hear Sokholov, they think of Ivan.” Mika rolled his eyes. “Of all the Ivans.”
Oleg’s older brother had the irritating habit of siring children and naming them Ivan too. There had to be at least a dozen immortal Ivan Sokholovs living and working around the world, and the original Ivan thought it was hilarious.
“You will rein him in,” Mika said, “or the druzhina will be forced to do something whether you like it or not.”
Oleg cut his eyes to his chief boyar, but Mika didn’t look away.
Outsiders often misunderstood the structure of his empire. Oleg was the head of the clan and the knyaz, but that didn’t mean he ruled without consequences.
The druzhina would remove him and put another in his place if they had to.
“You wouldn’t,” Oleg said. “Because no one wants this fucking job but me.”
And these days, he wasn’t feeling very sure about that. When being head of the clan meant killing Truvor and bringing rogue vampires under control, conquering territory, and bringing order out of chaos, he had reveled in it.
These days being the knyaz of the Kievan Rus meant office buildings, computer files, board meetings, and paperwork.
And flying to Moscow to shake hands with humans under his aegis.
“I was not built for meetings,” Oleg said slowly. “I was not made for looking through paperwork and files. What is this bullshit you have me doing, Mika? I’m sitting in Odesa when I could be?—”
“Cruising down Central Europe in a longboat, pillaging at night and burning enemy soldiers?”
Oleg bared his fangs. “Maybe.”
Mika stared at him and took another drink of blood-wine. “In this era, you pillage far more when you hire a good tax accountant.”
Oleg let out a growl that rumbled in his chest and slammed the goblet of blood-wine from Mika’s hand. “You drink too loudly.”
Mika looked at the spilled blood leaching into the carpets in their compartment. “You’re giving Cesar a raise.”
“Fine,” Oleg snarled. “He’s probably overdue for one anyway.”
“Find the Vorona woman and fuck her,” Mika said. “Or findsomeone. You’re becoming unbearable to live with.”
A ding sounded over the communication system.
“We are starting our descent into Moscow,” the pilot said. “Please ready the plane for landing.”
Oleg claspedthe man’s rough hand in his own, making sure to warm his skin before the contact. “It’s good to see you doing so well. I know you’re recovering faster with your family here.”
The driver named Goretski had tears in his eyes. “I could never have afforded this care without you, Mr. Sokolov.”
