Page 52 of Reign of Psychos

The stupid fuck trusted her. Believed she was loyal.

I drained my glass and refilled it before she sashayed in, a smile painted on her Botoxed face.

It was a surprise to see her smile. From whatOtetshad said, she was angry with me for missing the New Year’s Eve party. Not that I cared about her hurt feelings. If anyone deserved to hurt, it was that bitch.

“Darling,” she cooed. “How lovely you found the time to come and see us!” The bite in her tone was unmistakable. Ekaterina wasn’t happy about being snubbed.

She approached and tried to kiss me, but I ducked out of her way.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“Drop the act. I’m not buying it,” I growled, not in the mood for her bullshit. The only reason I’d come was to talk toOtets.

I smirked at the way she flinched and took a cautious step back.

“Don’t be like that, Kyril. You and I are good together. I know you miss me.” She fluttered her eyelashes at me while curling a strand of blond hair around her finger.

Had I ever really found her attractive?

I recalled the first time she’d made a sexual overture. A brush of fingers across my chest when she handed me a towel after swimming. Lingering glances as my body filled out. Inappropriate comments whenOtetswasn’t around.

As a horny teenager, I’d wanted nothing more than to wet my dick in a willing pussy. It was all I thought about. But every time my stepmother touched me, commented on how big and strong I was, something curled up and died inside.

I’d been drunk when she took my virginity. Absolutely wasted on pa’s premium vodka. Unable to consent. Not that it had stopped her. She’d slithered into my room, coaxed my dick to life, and ridden me for her own pleasure.

I’d lasted for way longer than five fucking seconds, much to her delight and surprise. The next night, she was back, only this time I was stone-cold sober.

Guilt over what I’d done - what I’d let her do to me - wasn’t enough to stop me from repeating the experience. For a while, I thought she genuinely cared about me. Being lavished with attention helped to heal the parts of my soul that had withered to the bone from a lack of physical affection over the years.

I enjoyed her caresses and compliments. Loved how she made me feel. Like a man worthy of adoration instead of a pathetic little boy abandoned by his own mother.

It wasn’t until she murdered Irina that I finally woke up and realized what kind of monster I’d let into my bed.

Ekaterina wasn’t just a sexual predator - she was a fucking psychopath.

“I don’t miss you,” I sneered, sipping my vodka. Behind me, the fire blazed, warming my back, but it wasn’t enough to melt the ball of ice in my chest.

Her expression tightened but she forced a smile. “Well I’ve missed you,” she purred. “I’ve missed that big cock of yours.Missed how well you fuck me. Your papa doesn’t have the stamina I need these days.” A faint regretful sigh escaped, like it was my father’s fault she’d been forced to get her kicks with his second, Dimitri.

Something Dad was blissfully unaware of.

Poor, stupid Dimitri. From what Anton had told me when I called this morning, the sad fuck was completely under her spell. Utterly enthralled by her.

I felt bad for him. Cuckolding my father was a seriously dangerous move. One that would not endear him to Otets.

“I’m surprised you missed me after I threatened to kill you,” I observed, noting the new lines around her eyes and the taut planes of her cheeks. She’d been using fillers again. Probably had a face-lift, too. The bitch was so fucking vain. Every bit of her looked fake now, from her balloon tits to her inflated lips.

The only thing she was good for was a hard, fast fuck from behind. Having to look at her ugly face while nutting was a real mood killer.

A small flicker of rage fluttered across her face, barely making a dent in the Botox. I smirked while recalling how good it had felt to throttle her within an inch of her life.

I should have fucking ended her that night. Buried her in the ice, where she’d have lain until the snow melted in spring. Assuming the wolves hadn’t dug up her corpse and feasted on her stringy flesh. Although if they had, they’d have probably choked on the plastic.

“You didn’t mean it, Kyril. I forgive you, baby.” She slithered closer, her perfume wafting over me. My stomach churned.

I fucking hated the perfume she wore. The heavy, musky scent she favored haunted my dreams, and whenever I passed another woman wearing the same scent, it made me want to vomit.

“You forgive me?” I chuckled. “I wonder if father would forgive you if he knew about Dimitri.” She blanched.Ha. She hadn’t been as discreet as she thought.

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