Page 18 of Dirty Crown
“I hope he’s still in a lot of pain.” I didn’t mean to say it so darkly, but it slipped out that way. I did, too, I hope every time he shifted his body or put on a shirt, he thought about me and the things he’d done to me. I still felt helpless rage when I looked back at my time in captivity, and I still wanted to get more revenge for it. I would have gone back and shot Maksim in the head if I thought I’d be able to get away with it. But I wouldn’t be able to get near him now, and if I did succeed I’d only destroy Ivan and Ilya’s final thread of business.
Although Ilya had probably already done that, considering the shit he’d pulled by kidnapping him. Ivan wasn’t the sort who would forget about it easily, and the small ties they still had in the business world weren’t worth enough for him to let it go.
Ilya had to be afraid by now, and rightfully so. One way I wanted to get involved in Ivan’s business dealings, no matter what they turned out to be, was to help him take down the Kostins.
It wasn’t enough for me to have hurt Maksim like that, there was an itch that I couldn’t scratch left over by our abuse. Not only had they hurt me, but they’d hurt my Kings and my father and Amara. For that alone, I couldn’t let it go. I wasn’t going to be able to rest until I got absolute revenge on them both.
And not just that, the people who worked for them. For the people who had helped facilitate my humiliation. For the guards who had stood and prevented me from getting free. There had to be a way for me to get back at them all, and I would have this itch irritating me until I could get it.
I coughed to alleviate the pressure building in my chest when I thought about the things I would do to them, but it didn’t help.
Only hurting them would make it go away.
I wondered if that was a genetic thing I got from Ivan. If he felt the same thing right now, the gnawing need to make it go away.
Was that genetic? I didn’t think it was something anybody had studied, or anybody would study, but maybe there was a link. That’s why crime and criminal behaviour seemed to stick to families, after all.
“Are you okay?” Ryker asked me when we were inside and heading upstairs. “You seem awfully quiet tonight.”
We’d flown in on a red eye flight and it was dark now. I didn’t even know what the local time was, my phone hadn’t hooked up to wifi and adjusted just yet. It was that strange in between feeling of travel, when you were mentally back in London and also in the US. Like I was in two places at once.
I’d catch up soon, I always did. But for now, I was fully immersed in the strange sensation of not quite belonging anywhere.
“I’m good,” I replied. “I think I just want to sleep and then have a huge American breakfast when I wake up. The bacon never tastes quite right overseas.”
“Or the coffee,” Ivan agreed. “I’ll give our staff the head’s up, they’ll be ready for us.”
We agreed, and I finally padded upstairs to my bedroom. My Kings followed close behind, but none of us were in the mood for sex, we were all too exhausted. I wanted to express myself sexually now that we were home, but not yet.
I needed sleep and comfort more than I needed an orgasm.
I know, can you believe I was saying that? It’s almost like I had matured or something.
Or perhaps the captivity and torture had caused me to reevaluate what I needed from my guys.
None of it mattered, though, because I dove into bed and they followed. Soon enough we were curled up like a nest of lovers under the blankets, our limbs entwined and our bodies seeking comfort from each other even when we slept.
It was more than enough for me, and exactly what I needed.
* * *
“This is exactlywhat I was talking about.” My mouth was full of bacon but somehow I managed to get the words out. The bacon was perfection for my undernourished body, fatty and salty and full of flavor. The breakfasts we’d had in London had been delicious, I mean the English knew how to make it a big event, but there was ultimately nothing quite like home.
“Oh yeah, have you had these pancakes?” Ivan asked me while stuffing his own face. “Mrs. Nelson can make them so freaking fluffy it’s like eating a cloud.”
“A cloud dipped in butter and syrup,” I said with a laugh. We were the only ones awake and were indulging before anybody else joined us. A true father and daughter moment where we realized we were more alike than we ever knew.
“You know what would be even better?” Ivan said and he raised his eyebrows.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Bacon and pancakes after killing the Kostins,” he replied and slipped a piece of pancake into his mouth.
I sipped my coffee and inhaled the scent. “I agree. That would be delicious and satisfying. But would it be possible?”
“Maybe not us,” he replied. “You have school that’s more important than taking down our enemies. But eventually we could, or have somebody else do it.”
“If we have somebody else do it, would that be good enough?” I asked him, and I wondered that myself. Would we be satisfied just hearing about it, or would it fulfill something inside of us even if we just directed it.
