His Dark Russian Princess

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Chapter Six

Current Day

Ras, age 26:

I leaned against the railing on the second story of the Grand Duchess in my private room, looking around as I sipped on my scotch. Katya hadn't arrived yet, and I needed someone who knew what I wanted.

I'd been dreaming of her too much lately, and needed someone to remind me why I was fine without her. To remind me that the fact she had never touched anyone but me still had me aching to this day didn't matter.

I listened to the men laughing as they talked to themselves and played poker, girls they had hired for the night on their arms or in their laps. The scent of expensive cigars and high-end alcohol filled the air, along with the expensive perfumes that the girls wore.

Occasionally I would watch as one of the men got up, whispering in the girl's ear. She would giggle or smile, and then they would head through the curtains leading to the private rooms in the back.

Taking a drink of my scotch, I lifted my eyes to the door as it opened, Kayta's red hair the first thing I notice. Turning away, I look to Dom and he nods, immediately knowing what I want. I watch him leave as I slowly undo my tie, unbuttoning the top buttons of my shirt.

Walking over to the wet bar, I hear the door open, a confused-looking Katya being pushed through the door before it closed behind her. I frowned at her confusion, but ignored it, turning and pouring myself another glass of scotch. "Come here, little fox. You know I don't bite... too hard."

I lifted my head, watching her body spin towards me out of the corner of my eye. Her body walked towards me stiffly, and then she sat on one of the stools. A frown formed on my lips. She wasn't acting like herself. What was wrong with my little fox tonight?

Walking behind her, I leaned into her body, burying my face in her neck. Instead of the usual Chanel 5.0 she typically wore, I smelled something else. Something too familiar for her to be allowed to wear. The scent of lemons and roses. Her scent.

Whipping the chair around, I glared down into her emerald green eyes, I wrapped my hand around her throat and pinned her body against the chair. "Why the fuck do you smell like her Katya? Are you trying to push me?"

I felt a prick against my throat and a faint trickle of liquid before I realized what was going on. She was holding a damn knife to my throat.

"You little cunt. After everything I've done for you, everything I gave you, and you betray me like this! Who do you-" my eyes widened as I finally realized the woman before me wasn't Katya.

"What have you done for me, Rasputin? Do you even know who I am? Who I really am?" The way she spat out my name as if it burned her just to say it... No. God, no. This wasn't real. This was all just another nightmare. There was no way it could be.

Yet there was no mistaking her voice. "You're supposed to be dead, Anastasia." The knife against my throat shook a little as I stared down into the false-green eyes of the woman I murdered 4 years ago.

Her hair spilled behind her like blood, reminding me of that day. Her lips were crimson from her lipstick, and her eyes flashed dangerously. The look of someone who knew they had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

"It seems death didn't want me. Seems to be a recurring pattern there. My sisters didn't want me. You didn't want me. Even death threw me back."

Her voice shook, laced with pain as her eyes watered. Swearing, she pushed me back and slammed the knife blade into the counter of the wet bar. Her hands went to her eyes, removing the green-colored contacts.

I watched her, ignoring the itch on my throat where her knife nicked my skin. She had grown, maturing into the woman that stood before me.

Even though she looked vulnerable at the moment, she radiated confidence that she hadn't had before.

I would be lying to myself if I wasn't secretly happy that she was alive, but I also knew why she held the knife to my throat. Why she wanted to kill me. It hurt a little, to be honest. But what hurt the most was her words. You didn't want me.

Chuckling at the thought of her believing that, I leaned against the railing and messed with my black hair. "You've been working here. In my club." My words weren't a question. And she knew that, but she answered anyway.

"I have. Gotta say, the only thing people want more than power, is sex and money. Seems to make sense. After all, that's what you wanted from me, and then you slaughtered everything the next day. All for what? My father's power and wealth? He was going to leave it to you anyway. No... what you wanted was to destroy my whole world, and turn me into a monster... just like you."

A dark chuckle left my lips at her words, my body moving before she had time to escape. Grabbing her wrists in my hands, I pin them against the bar, my chest pressing against her back as I bend her over the bar. I felt her body tense before her fighting instinct instantly kicked in.

Her leg kicked out, trying to throw off my balance and knock me back. A smirk formed on my lips as I quickly move my leg in the space she had just opened up between her thighs. A slight gasp left her lips as I kicked her other leg out, leaving her off balance, having to rely on my body keeping her trapped between me and the bar.

As much as I wanted to deny it, with this position, having her trapped and helpless, and the fact it was her before me had me harder than I'd ever been in years. I couldn't resist myself as I pressed myself against her ass, the little black shorts she wore for her uniform making sure she could feel everything.

Sliding her hands up along the bar to above her head, I gripped her wrists in one hand, my other sliding around her throat to cup her jaw, my pinky resting on her pulse point. Leaning down close, I inhaled her scent, savoring it, as if it was a glass of wine.

Skimming my nose along her neck, I kissed below her jaw, my lips sliding up until they were at her ear. So many things were on my lips that I wanted to say, so many options to choose from. Yet I said nothing.

Pressing my body into her for a moment longer, I slid my hand down to her throat, ignoring her squirming under me as my fingers began squeezing her throat. I held the pressure until her body slumped against the counter, her eyes closed from me knocking her unconscious.

Immediately pulling away, I picked her up in my arms, my arms under her legs and holding her shoulders up. Turning, I walked to the door, ignoring the startled look Dominic gave me as I came out of the room with her in my arms.

"Get the car. We're going home. Back entrance."

My voice came out clipped and cold, but if it was due to anger or just habit, I couldn't tell. I was furious. With myself, with her, and most of all, with life, for having kept her away from me so long. Where the fuck could Anya have been staying for the past four years, that she was right under my nose?

And what had she been doing all this time? I still didn't know who the murderer was that was targeting me, other than it had started 3 years ago, and had seemingly no connections to each other. And that I would have to suspect it may have been a woman.

Shaking my head to clear my racing thoughts, I stepped into the elevator with Dom, ignoring the curious looks he was giving Anya. "Stop fucking looking at her if you want to keep your life, Dom."

"Sorry, Sir."

Her body shuddered in my arms, her lips forming a frown as she slept. Her eyes moved frantically under her lids, and I could tell she was at the beginning of a nightmare. Staring down at her, I had never thought I would hold her in my arms like this again.

It seemed the Devil had decided to torture me once more, by giving her back.

Only this time, she would belong to me completely.
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