Page 145 of Sire
He smiles, murmuring into our kiss, “Dollywood?”
“Road trip,” I sigh over his lush lips, loving how my husband always hooks his arm around my waist, lifting me so our lips can meet.
“Yeah, but this time: shotgun,” Jace adds, giving quick hugs before leaving us, standing on the sidewalk.
Sire reaches for my hand, his worried stare watching his brother’s back. “What happened? He seems upset.”
“I just met his future wife and queen.”
“Hallelujah,” he chuckles. “About fucking time. Literally.”
With a sexy smirk and warm hand, he guides us home through the graveyard.
“Yeah,” I chirp. “I’m gonna have to poison her shitty husband first, but she’ll be our sister-in-law.”
He laughs, brushing past deadly yew-berry bushes. “I never doubt you, Angel.”
Strolling through weathered headstones, with cicadas whirring around, it’s a sweltering, darkening summer evening, but … something’s off. A sudden shiver slithers up my spine.
I look around.
Spanish moss sways from tall oaks. Blood red azaleas cling to their blooms. Ferns, coping the graves, fight for shade. Even the shadows are hot in Charleston.
I’ve grown used to my new home with Sire. It’s so sultry and hospitable, it’s like evil is welcome here, too, until Sire stops, his glare piercing the blackness under the oaks by the iron gate to our home.
“What is it?” I whisper.
Stepping in front of me, he snarls, “Otets.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
SIRE
“Father.”
The word in Russian bleeds from my lips before I can stop it, because he’snotmy father.
No, he’s the Devil sitting on a cemetery bench. Deep shadows cloaked his presence, but I felt his chill in the air. The stench of evil. I knew he was here.
“Krasivaya zhena,” he jeers.
“Speak of my wife,” I vow, “and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
When I was six, I heard my father speak the exact words regarding my mother. He made me watch him cut out a man’s admiring tongue before gouging out his eyes, too.
All for stating the obvious:beautiful wife.
As is Wren.
She grabs my T-shirt, letting me know she’s there. But she’s not safe. Not with him seated before us.
A smile tugs his wicked lips, easily slipping into English. “It seems I have taught you well.”
I smirk, “And it seems you’re dying soon. Well deserved.”
His amusement evaporates. “I die; you die. You know therules, Sergei.”
“Indeed, I do. Fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth; so says God. But kidney for kidney? Get on your fucking knees for it.”
