Graduation (Kingmakers, #5)

by Sophie Lark

“But understand me now—you are a gravitational pull toward danger and chaos, and you are pulling on my daughter. Starting with the night she met you. In fact, I’ll wager that you’ve already planted the idea of her coming to Russia once she’s finished school.” Nero sees inside my head. He has the right idea, wrong timeline. I haven’t planted a seed—I’ve grown a tree. Sabrina wants to come, I know she does. But Nero’s influence is powerful—he’s here to chop that tree to the ground.

“You gave us your word. You signed a contract with my father. Then you shot him in the face and put seven bullets in my back that were aimed at my wife. If your people had their way, Sabrina wouldn’t exist.” I can’t deny the betrayal of the blood oath, a crime even the Bratva blush to remember. Alexei Yenin signed his print in blood, then launched a massacre at the wedding of his own daughter and Sebastian Gallo. All I can say in defense is, “That wasn’t me, and that wasn’t my family.” “No?” Nero sneers. “Then show me your shoulders.” I don’t hesitate. I wrench down the shoulder of my shirt, baring nothing but flesh. Instead, I point at the wolf on my arm. “I wear my own brand. Mine and no other. I have no quarrel with the Gallos.” With a flash of teeth, I add, ”I’d like to keep it that way.” I won’t be intimidated by Nero. He looks at the wolf, rapid thought flickering behind those dark eyes. He resembles his daughter so strongly that I feel the strangest mix of connection and confusion. Nero stole the diamond—I want to steal the thing most precious to him. “I would never hurt Sabrina,” I tell him. “I’d do anything to keep her safe.” “Anything? I’m sure you think so …” The speedometer is up to 120. We’re racing down a dark road meant for less than half that speed. Each curve presents us with a sheer rock face, rushing toward us at sickening pace. Eyes as black as that stone, Nero says, “I would drive us into a wall this moment before I would risk you hurting her.” I don’t...

“Sabrina, you are so like me. I worry what that will mean for you.” This hurts and also reminds me that I came from this man, born of his flesh like Adam’s rib. You can’t forget your parents, any more than they can forget you. I pretend not to understand him. “Why worry? You’re happy enough.” He looks both older and younger in the dim light of the car—his face smooth, his eyes ancient. “You can’t imagine the darkness I lived in before I met your mother. I was cruel and violent. I hurt everyone around me. I had no control. I would have torn myself to pieces until there was nothing left.” My father has always been my mirror, and me his. When we look at each other, we don’t like what we see. Stubbornly I retort, “Maybe Adrik is my Camille.” “Don’t insult your mother. Adrik is another Nero, not a Camille.” This isn’t about Adrik. My father wishes I was more like my mother. But I’m not. Not even a little bit. Fiercely I say, “I like what I am. I’m not afraid to be more.” “You should be. You think restraint is the greatest evil—while you cut every rope that ties you to life.” I hate being lectured. Especially by him. “You would never have taken advice at my age! You always took what you wanted.” “I want you to be better than me.” “Maybe I already am.” He shakes his head. “That’s exactly what I would have said—when I was my most arrogant and foolish. Your mother changed me. She made me better. What will Adrik make you?” I can’t answer that. My father is the only person who can si...

I’ll miss you … pithy, insufficient. I don’t want you to go … already been said. This was the best week of my life … true, but still not enough. I’d give anything for more time … fucking pathetic. I wrap my arms around her, crushing her against my chest, angry at her and at myself. I’ve never been like this before—I’ve always known what to do. The impulse to snatch her up and throw her back in the car is overwhelming. Instead I let go, regretting it the moment I feel the cold emptiness between my arms. Sabrina gives me one last look, her eyes huge and dark in her stiff face. She pulls her suitcase away without either of us saying anything at all. I stand by the car like a fucking fool, wondering how I got so attached.

She came back. She came back to me. Sabrina presses her cheek against mine, saying fiercely, “It’s crazy and I don’t care. I want to be crazy with you.” I hold her tight, making a promise I know I won’t break: “I’m never letting you walk away from me again.”

These are men who have bonded already. Worked together. Learned to trust each other. I’m a stranger. An intruder. They regard me silently. I speak instead: “Adrik said you guys need some help opening jars.” It’s not the world’s greatest icebreaker, but it’s enough to get a smirk out of Chief. Not Vlad. “Why don’t you help us decorate?” he sneers. I feel Adrik stiffen, but I cut across him. “Sure,” I say easily. “Let’s start with that shirt.” That gets a snort out of the two gamers, Andrei and Hakim. Andrei pipes up. “A Gallo, huh? Was Leo busy?” It’s still insulting, but not a bad sign. Ribbing is better than cold silence. If you can’t take a few shots, you’ll never fit in with men. They really are pack-animals, releasing their aggression publicly in front of the group so the group determines the appropriate behavior. They don’t bottle shit up and bitch behind your back—or at least, not often. Andrei obviously knows Leo, but he’s too old to be in the same year. So I know exactly how to respond. “Yeah.” I grin. “He’s all tuckered out from running train on you at school.” This gets a laugh out of the gamers and Chief as well. The chill in the room is warming, at least a few degrees. Vlad isn’t biting, hefty arms crossed, a scowl on his face. “I thought this house was patch-only.” He means the tattoos. It must be a rite of passage before entering the Wolfpack. Adrik says, “This house was supposed to be brains only, but we let you in.” Now they’re all laughing, and Vlad looks ...

“Not the best view,” Adrik acknowledges. “I’m not here for scenery.” I set my suitcase down in the corner, turning to face Adrik. “Then what are you here for?” he says, running a hand through his hair in a way that looks like it will smooth it, but really makes it stick up in more directions than ever. “Why don’t you tell me? On our first date, you said you wanted to recruit me. What did you imagine I would do here? Where do I fit in with everyone else?” Adrik shrugs, his heavy shoulders lifting and falling with almost audible weight. “I told you Sabrina—I don’t plan to be your boss. I want you to run free. We’ll see what you come up with.” A light heat spreads through my chest, and I let him see my smile. I worried that once I was here, he’d revert to some misogynistic Bratva and start barking orders at me. But it seems he really does intend to keep his word. “Will you take me out tonight?” I ask. “Show me the city?” “Of course.” Adrik gestures to the room. “Does this suit you? Would you prefer your own space?” I consider. I might like my own space, but I also know I’ll be pulled into this bed every night like a magnet. “This is good for now.” Adrik smiles. “That wasn’t a real offer. I didn’t fly you across the world to be roommates.”

I’d planned to make use of that cramped shower. Instead, I sink onto the bed, burying my face in Adrik’s pillow. It smells of him—a scent I’ve tried a hundred times to isolate, without ever being able to name it. It comes to me in waves like colors—dark like a deeply steeped tea, with notes of heady sweetness, burgundy wine or black cherry. Then that head-spinning chemical edge that compels you to inhale again and again, even if you know it might be bad for you, or even toxic—testosterone like pure gasoline. It’s that scent that makes me feel at home in this room. That chains me to this bed with no desire to ever leave it. I fall asleep breathing him in, over and over and over.

“Does the lady need a Cosmo?” Andrei smirks at me. “Is that what you use to get Hakim in bed?” I say, sweetly sipping my beer. “He might be getting desperate enough,” Hakim snorts. “You’re on a dry spell, aren’t you Andrei?” “I’d get laid every night if I was willing to take home the dogs you fuck,” Andrei retorts. “Can we talk business?” Chief pleads of Adrik. “Before I have to hear another recital of Hakim’s conquests and the lies he has to tell to get them in bed.” “What lies?” Hakim protests. “Did you or did you not tell some poor college student that you were Zayne Malik’s cousin?” Hakim shrugs. “I could be. I’ve got a lot of cousins.”

“Zdravstvuyte,” he says, taking down the vodka for our drinks. “Dobryy vecher,” Sabrina replies, trying out one of her newly learned greetings. “Very good.” Mykah nods his approval. “It’s shit,” Sabrina sighs, “but I’ll learn.” “Russian is very easy language,” Mykah agrees. “It only take me three years to learn, and I was baby at time.” He roars with laughter, Sabrina laughing too, though more at Mykah himself than at his witticisms. “What you do here with this one?” Mykah points his bar towel at me. “You know he is very bad guy.” “Adrik?” Sabrina says, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “He told me he was an Elvis impersonator.” “Elvis!” Mykah chortles, spraying my arm with a little bit of spit. “Get me comb, I see it now.” He holds up his hands, framing my hair, squinting and picturing me with a pompadour. With his fingers spread, I can easily see the missing fingers on his right hand. “Buy your own comb,” I say, throwing down some cash and picking up our drinks.

“How do you know him?” “From school. ‘Friend’ was an exaggeration—I fucking loathe him.” Sabrina looks at me with curiosity. “What does it take to get on your bad side?” “I told him something in confidence. When it got out, I knew he couldn’t be trusted. That was the first reason … I’ve had plenty since.” “Well, don’t worry,” Sabrina says, giving me a sly smile. “Your secrets are safe with me.” “What secrets do you know?” “Plenty. You talk in your sleep …” “What do I say?” “I just promised not to tell anyone.” I take a sip of my drink. “That’s probably for the best.”

“What we need is a resource. They’re fighting over what already exists—we could make something new.” “Make what?” “The thing everyone wants …” Sabrina smiles. “A good time.” “The Slavs already make their own molly. They can buy in higher volume than us and undercut our price.” “If we can’t compete on price then we have to compete on quality. You said the stuff coming in from Amsterdam is shit?” “Only one in three shipments tests pure.” “But you can get the raw materials?” “I can get anything once I know where to look.” Sabrina bites the edge of her thumbnail. I see the wheels turning in her head as she sits across from me, scowling in concentration. “We need something no one else can sell …” she says softly. “Something unique … that we cook ourselves …” “You want to be in charge of it?” I ask her. She looks up, eyes large and luminous in her tanned face. I see her excitement, but she plays it cool as always. “Could be fun.” “You should bring Hakim on board. He took two years of biochemistry.” “Oh yeah?” “His parents wanted him to be a pharmacist like his sisters.” Sabrina grins. “Then I guess it’s time to make his parents proud.”

“Two hours is a lot of work?” I tease. “It’s work keeping my hands off you long enough to have a conversation.” He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back, kissing me so deeply that I taste the vodka still burning in his throat.

“You love doing that,” I say, in a tone of wonder. “It’s my favorite thing.” “Your literal favorite? Over all the other things we do?” I don’t believe that for a second, but Adrik insists: “I’d rather eat your pussy than anything else. You taste like candy. When you’re about to cum you taste even better.” “What’s your favorite way to do it?” “When you ride my face.” “You want me to do that now?” “Can I film it?”

Before I can finish swallowing, he pulls me up and kisses me deeply. “You filthy little whore,” he growls. “I can taste my cum in your mouth.” I’ve never let a man call me names before. With Adrik, it’s a compliment. He wants me slutty. He wants me misbehaved. He wants the baddest bad girl, it’s why he picked me in the first place. Adrik can see that I’m thinking. When he’s halfway in his right mind again, he asks, “You like when I call you a slut?” “Yeah.” “Why? Because I’m dominating you?” “No,” I laugh. “Because you understand me.” I love sex, I always have. I’m not ashamed. Anyone who wants to be with me has to accept that part of me along with everything else. “I don’t know if I could be monogamous,” I say to Adrik. “I didn’t bring a girl home—but I might another night.” “Bring one home every night,” Adrik says. “I don’t care.” “It doesn’t make you jealous?”

“I don’t care who you fuck. I want your love and your loyalty, Sabrina—can you give that to me?” It’s the first time either of us has said the word “love” out loud. I’ve never said that word to anyone. It makes me shiver, naked and exposed on the bed. At the same time, I feel heat in my chest. The inferno that’s been burning there for months, impossible to smother, impossible to control. It’s the reason I came here, even though it’s dangerous, even though it’s insane. I came here without any friends or family, without even knowing the language. For Adrik. Because I can’t stand to be without him. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I love you. You and nobody else.” The surprise and delight that sweeps his face is enough to make me laugh. He didn’t think I would say it. He throws aside the towel, leaping on me, the mattress groaning beneath our weight. He crushes me against his body, kissing me hard. I can feel his heart hammering against my bare chest. “You love me?” he says. “Because I fucking love you. I love you, Sabrina.” “Since when?” “The whole time. I didn’t say it before because I didn’t want to scare you off.” Elation bursts out of me as laughter. Adrik isn’t offended—he understands what I’m feeling. “You really love me too?” I say. He looks in my eyes, serious. “I’m way past love. I’m obsessed.” I tell him the thing I didn’t think I’d admit. “It scares me. I feel desperate and crazy—way past normal. I feel like I was already on the edge, and then I met you and I jumped right o...

“I’m used to being in control. With you … I’d trade anything for another minute.” We’re kissing again, wild and hungry, eating each other alive. I’m filled with hot, soaring happiness. We finally said it out loud and it feels so good to admit it. This is real. The realest thing I’ve ever known. If we’re crazy, then we’re crazy together.

“Don’t you have child labor laws in Russia?” I say to Alla. “She is not child,” Alla grunts. “She is demon.” Alla’s English is about on par with the name of the diner—comprehensible, but not exactly elegant. Since my Russian remains gibberish to anyone besides Adrik, I’m not one to judge. Misha pushes her glasses up her nose, fixing her sister with a calm stare. “It’s not the medieval era. I’m not a demon just because I bathe every day.” “I bathe,” Alla retorts. “With soap?” Misha demands.

“Alla says I read too much and it makes me weird.” “Something made you weird,” I say. “I dunno if it was the books.” “Do you read fiction?” she asks me. “Yeah. When I can sit still long enough.” “What’s your favorite book?” I consider. “Well … when I was your age, it was Ender’s Game.” “What’s that?” “It’s about a kid, a really smart kid. He’s trained by the military. You’d probably like it,” I laugh. “He’s weird, too.” Misha nods solemnly. “I’ll look for it at the library.”

“I’ve got a new formula for you,” I murmur to Adrik. “For tonight?” “Yup.” He grabs my knee under the counter, hard, making a low rumble in his throat. “Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” “You haven’t eaten.” “There’s only one thing I want to eat.” “Gross,” Hakim says, from Adrik’s other side. “You better change your attitude,” Adrik says, slapping Hakim on the shoulder as he stands. “Those are the words of a single man.”

What should we call it?” Adrik asks. “Molniya. That’s why I shaped it that way—it’s lightning in a pill.” “Which version is this?” “I dunno—6.0, maybe.” I hold up the little yellow bolt to pop in his mouth. “How do I know you’re getting the doses right?” I scowl at him. “I don’t remember you picking me up at the dock at MIT. I’m estimating.” Adrik laughs. “Fair enough. I have one more question, though—what if it makes the customers a little too content? What if they don’t want to pay for lap dances? The strippers won’t sell it if it doesn’t help them make money.” I pretend to pout. “You don’t have faith in me.” “This is business, not religion.” “What about a little wager, then?” Adrik sits up straighter on the bed, a wolf catching scent of its favorite prey. He loves a good bet. “What kind of wager?” “How much cash do you have on you?” He pulls a wad of bills out of his pocket, some rubles, but mostly American Benjamins, the currency no Russian will refuse. “A lot,” he says. “I’m going to charge you a thousand dollars a song,” I tell him. “You try and keep as much as you can.” He smiles. “And what do I get if I can resist you?” “I’ll wear my helmet every time I ride my bike.” “Like a good girl.” “Like the best good girl,” I say, trailing my finger down his chest. “And if you win?” “I want a new gun. An expensive one.” “A John Wick gun?” he teases me. Andrei and Hakim and I have been watching the trilogy, drooling over the endless supply of high-tech hardware John Wick seem...

“You’re saying it’s going to hit me hard?” “Like a sledgehammer.” His voice has softened a little, and he’s gazing up at the window with a dreamy, unfocused expression. “You already hit me that way, baby girl … the moment I laid eyes on you. I thought I was in control. I thought I was ready. What a fucking fool I was …”

“All my best and happiest memories involve those hands,” I murmur. “Are you happy here?” Adrik asks, his brilliant blue eyes searching my face. “I want you to be happy …” “I’m always happy when we’re working together.” He smiles. “We’re working so hard right now …” I laugh. “Someone give us a raise already.” “Okay. I think I feel it now. ‘Cause I can’t stand up.” “It hits the hardest the first time … maybe.” “If you got the dose wrong and I’m about to die … I’m completely fine with that.” “Fuck,” I say. “I forgot to get a chair.” “Where are you going?” I’m trying to push myself off the bed, but the floor keeps moving away under my feet. “I gotta get one …” “Those chairs are a thousand miles away. There’s no possible way. You should give up and lay here with me.” “No, no, no. We have a bet. And I have to test some things …” “You’re the best scientist. They’re gonna give you a Nobel Prize.” “They really should. But these things are so political.” “It’s like when Saving Private Ryan lost to Shakespeare In Love. So unfair …”

“Holy shit, I thought you died.” “This is you grieving? You were staring at the clouds.” “There’s so many of them.” “Do you know they weigh a million pounds?” “That’s impossible.” “It’s true.” “Don’t … don’t try and trick me with your made-up cloud facts.” “Here,” I say, unfolding the chair. “Sit on this.” “But then I’d have to move.” “It’s not that bad once you’re doing it.” Adrik rolls off the bed, standing gingerly. “Oh. You’re right.” He sinks down on the chair, grabbing my wrist and pulling me closer. “Why are you so far away?” “Hold on,” I say. “I need better clothes.”

“You got your cash?” I grin. “I’ve got somebody’s money,” Adrik says, pulling it out of his pocket. “Now remember,” I say sternly, “you’re trying to keep as much as you can.” “I already want to give it all to you.” I laugh. “But then you lose the bet.” Adrik frowns, trying to recover his competitive fire. “Okay. I’m gonna keep this money. No matter how tempting you look. No matter how sexy you are when you dance … oh Jesus, this is so unfair.”

“I thought you said it was a party drug,” Adrik says. “Felt more like a sex drug to me.” “Well, it would be different if we were at a club, obviously. It makes you want to do more of whatever you’re doing. So if you were dancing, you’d want to keep dancing. If you’re talking, you want to talk forever.” “Are you sure about that? You might start an orgy by accident …” “You think I should dial it back a little?” “No,” Adrik says. “You’re the artist. I trust your judgment.” My face is so hot with pleasure that I tuck my cheek against Adrik’s neck so he won’t notice. Nothing feels as good as his good opinion of me. “That’s not a bad idea …” I murmur. “What?” “A sex drug. I could make other formulas …” Adrik makes an amused sound. “I volunteer as a test subject.”

“I want you to start picking up some of the shipments with Jasper.” “What?” I say, sitting up, leaning on one elbow. “Why?” “I know you want to be involved in more than just the manufacturing side.” I scan his face in the pale moonlight leaking in through the window. “You’re just trying to make Jasper talk to me.” Adrik chuckles. “Yeah, maybe.” “It’s not gonna work. He can sit in silence for hours. I’ve timed him.” “It’s not for you,” Adrik says. “It’s for him.” “What do you mean?” “He’s lonely. Depressed.” Adrik trails his fingers lightly up and down my forearm. “You’re my yellow sun. Jasper needs a little of that light.” “But … he fucking hates me.” “It doesn’t matter. You shine on him and it will warm him up. Whether he wants it or not.” I consider this, at last saying, “Yeah, alright. I’ll do it. As a favor to you.” He kisses me. “Thank you, baby girl.” I smile. “I thought that was my stripper name.” “You are my baby girl … I’ll always take care of you.”

“Okay, okay,” I say. “I’ll even consider being nice to him.” Adrik pulls me close against him. “When you turn on your charm, no one can resist you.” I laugh. “And when I’m a dick, nobody can stand me.” He squeezes me tighter. “I can.”

And then my dad. Coming into the kitchen not for the food, but for my mother. Lifting her hair off the back of her neck so he can kiss her there. And then, when that’s not enough, turning her around, kissing her again, not minding that her floury hands are getting all over his clothes. Then dancing with her to this song. When he dances, he doesn’t limp. He shows that grace, that lightness that must have accompanied every movement when he was young. When he holds my mother in his arms, you’d never know he’s in pain.

We pop the pills and lay around watching porn for a while, waiting for it to kick in. Sabrina picks the porn, because when I get to pick, I always choose the videos of her and me. She’s made several for me now. I don’t even watch normal porn anymore, because nobody’s as hot as her. And nothing’s as hot as watching me fuck her. I’ve probably watched the one of her riding my face four hundred times. I know it all by heart, every flick of her hair, every flex of her back. She looks like a jungle cat, sleek and ferocious. At the moment, she’s put on some shit with a girl possessed by a demon. This demon is apparently horny as fuck, because as soon as the girl’s roommate comes home, they start fucking in exorcist positions. “Why do you always pick such weird porn? Why does she need to be possessed?” Sabrina shrugs. “Everybody watches porn one step past what they’re experiencing.” “That’s the line for you these days? Literal possession?” She laughs. “I dunno. It doesn’t seem that crazy to me—I’d fuck a demon if he looked like you.” “Aww. Thanks, babe.”

“You’re not human,” I say. “You’re something better.” She laughs. “You’re high.” “How dare you.”

“No one would guess what a heart you have. When you’re supposed to be a big bad gangster.” “I’m bad. When I have to be.” “Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” I think about that for a minute. “It depends on the circumstances.” “What if I did something terrible? Would you hate me?” “Like what?” “What if I was a cannibal. And I killed Jasper and ate him.” “Jasper’s too skinny.” “Vlad, then.” “Then I’d be like, ‘Woah, babe. Ask next time, I’ll get you a burger.’ ”

I act out her fantasies, she acts out mine. What she likes becomes instantly kinky to me, surpassing my own favorite games.

“Do you know what I love about you, Adrik …” I lift my head for only a moment. “What?” “Everything.” I chuckle, going back to work on her. “I’m serious … I love how soft and thick your hair is when I run my hands through it. I love how heavy you feel on top of me. I love how your body is a furnace, radiating heat in me. When I’m tired, when I’m stressed, I lay on top of you and your warmth recharges me like a battery. I can’t feel upset when you’re touching me. And you’re smart, you’re so fucking smart … I’ve never met anyone whose brain works as fast as yours. You see everything.” “You’re smarter than me,” I tell her. “I never thought that about anyone until I met you. It’s intimidating.” “You’re not intimidated. You’re not afraid of anyone.” “I’m not afraid. But I want to impress you.” “So do I,” she says, softly. “I want to perform for you … I want you to be proud of me …” “I am proud of you, baby girl. So fucking proud.” She starts to cum, so gradually that I don’t even know it’s happening at first. Until I feel her thighs shaking and I hear her teeth chattering together like castanets. “I’ve never heard you make that sound before.” “Keep going,” she begs. I keep licking her pussy, soft and slow, like I’m lapping cream out of a saucer. “I love your hands …” she whispers. “I love the way you touch me … I love how you’re the light in the room. Everyone wants your attention. Everyone wants to be close to you. But you want to be close to me …” “That’s right. You’re my favo...

When I start to cum, it draws out forever, easy, warm, and blissful. I don’t have to try for it at all. It’s an orgasm like none I’ve ever known. Because I’ve never cum from how goddamn much I love someone.

I model my new outfit for Adrik—bright orange fleece joggers, a white hoodie, and a pair of Stan Smiths that are probably counterfeit, but an excellent fake. They even have the little green tabs on the tongue with Stan’s portrait. “Orange looks amazing with your skin.” Adrik gives me an appreciative up and down. “You have good style—it’s fuckin’ sexy.” “Thank you, thank you,” I say, posing for him. “What’s this for?” he says, tugging at a little stretchy string on the butt. The joggers have several pockets and zips with no apparent purpose. “I dunno,” I say. “Don’t pull on it.” “I think your pants are on backwards.” “No, they’re not! Knock it off!” Ignoring me, Adrik pulls the strings out about a foot. “That’s the drawstring! They’re definitely on backwards.” I twist around, trying to look at my own ass. “Goddammit.” His shoulders shake with laughter. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you did that.” “I won’t tell anyone you thought I looked stylish as fuck!” “Watch it,” he growls, seizing me and pulling me close.

We have to drive because there’s too much snow on the ground for the bikes. It doesn’t improve Jasper’s mood to sit in a car with me for over an hour, driving out to a trucking depot in the Mozhaysky District. I put on my favorite song and he deliberately switches to the next one right when it gets to the best part. I spend the ride fantasizing how I could shut Jasper in a crate and nail it shut and ship it to Mongolia by the slowest route possible.

“You should be charging for your services,” I tell Sabrina as we climb in the car. “They can’t afford me,” she says airily. “I see the effort you’re making,” I lay my hand on her thigh. “And I appreciate it.” “Yeah, we’re getting on alright. Even Jasper has his good points. I mean, not his personality, or behavior, or mood … but something.” I try not to let her see me smile. “He’s punctual, you can say that for him,” Sabrina says, as if it pains her to admit even that. “He’s a lot more than punctual.” “Sure—he also makes the best coffee.” I pretend to be hurt. “I thought you said I made the best coffee?” “Well, you had just made me cum three times when I said that.” “Four times, actually.” “I’m glad one of us keeps track.”

“We’re really doing it, aren’t we?” she says. Her face is flushed with triumph—the diamonds, the penthouse suite, the two of us here together … “Nothing can stop us,” I say. “I’m invincible with you.”

There’s no end of dreaming with Sabrina. No end of believing. It’s the most American thing about her—she really thinks she can do anything. And so do I, when I’m with her.

“Well, I didn’t know you were gonna upstage me with this.” Sabrina touches the diamonds at her throat. “That’s how it should be. I’d be ashamed if you gave me a better gift.” “What if I want to give you the better gift?” “Then you should date Andrei. He’d love a sugar mama.” Sabrina snorts, but she’s shaking her head at me, mildly annoyed. “But what if I—” I silence her with my mouth. “You are the gift, Sabrina. You’re what I want.”

“Sabrina is a tiger. One of a kind, nothing else like her. And no, a tiger can’t be tamed—who would want it to be? All its power comes from the fact that it’s wild. You can’t cage a tiger. You can only try to be its master. Nobody wants a tiger that’s a shell of itself. You want the most powerful fucking tiger you can get. And that comes with dangers. If you have a German shepherd, that dog will lay down its life for you. With a tiger, if you don’t feed it, and you don’t respect it, it will eat you.” Jasper considers this, eyes narrowed, hands stuffed in his pockets. At last he says, “Am I the dog in this metaphor?” “I don’t know,” I reply. “But I can tell you, the tiger doesn’t ask what it is in the metaphor. It already knows what it is.” Jasper smiles thinly, accepting the reproof.

He obviously hasn’t been sleeping. He’s keyed up and twitchy. Every time Zigor makes a loud or abrupt noise—about every two minutes—Jasper jerks in his chair. If glares could kill, Zigor would be on his twenty-eighth resurrection. I’d be on my sixth or seventh.

“You’re not invincible, either.” I kiss her softly on the mouth. “Yes I am. As long as I have you.”

“You going to Neve Markov’s wedding?” “Yeah,” he says. “She invited all the Wolfpack. Which is nice, since I don’t know her personally.” “How ‘bout you, Jasper?” I call, tossing my goggles onto the messy heap of my hazmat suit and gloves in the trunk of the SUV. Jasper is smoking moodily, sitting on the filthy curb behind the brewery. He doesn’t seem to care that the cement is wet and icy, or that he probably shouldn’t be smoking so close to a fresh tattoo. He gives a little start when I call out to him, looking up at me with those pale green eyes ringed with black. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t like weddings.” “This one’s gonna be a who’s-who of mafia royalty though,” I say, “It’s the mafia Oscars.” “That sounds fuckin’ awful.” Jasper stubs out his cigarette on the curb, dropping the butt in the gutter. “Winter weddings are stupid,” Hakim says. “They should wait for summer.” “Maybe they don’t want to wait.” I shrug. “Everybody says they’re crazy about each other.” “Yeah, give it six months,” Jasper says. “You should write greeting cards, Jasper,” I say. “For people who want to ruin their loved one’s day.” “Happy Birthday,” Hakim says. “The endless nothingness of death is one year closer.” “Happy Anniversary,” I say. “I’ve only cheated on you twice in twenty years, and I feel like that’s pretty good.” “Happy Father’s Day,” Hakim says. “All my worst traits come from you, Dad, yet I look like Mom and that bothers you ever since the divorce.” “Fuck off,” Jasper snarls. I ...

“You better shower,” I tell her. “What?” She looks down at herself. “You don’t want your date smelling like motor oil?” “Actually, I love when you smell like that,” I say, low enough that only she’ll hear. Sabrina gives me a wicked smile. “I know you do.”

Sabrina emerges at last, lips painted, eyes smoky and catlike, hair piled up in cascading ringlets like Aphrodite. She’s wearing a plum-colored gown, draped and silky, the material clinging to her luscious curves by a few thin straps. I haven’t seen her dolled up like this in weeks. She’s ravishing. My mouth waters, blood rushing into my cock. In an instant, I’m up from the bed, seizing her by the shoulders and tearing the dress off her. I’ve ripped Sabrina’s clothes plenty of times before. She loves when I’m ravenous for her, she loves when I’m rough. This time, she shrieks with outrage, shoving me away. “What the fuck are you doing?” She’s never pushed me away before. She’s never stopped me from fucking her, not even in the most inappropriate or hurried moments. I’m off-balanced, confused. She lifts the dangling shoulder strap, torn from the dress. “You ruined it!” “I’ll buy you another dress.” “I don’t want another dress! I loved this one. There isn’t a hundred of every beautiful thing, not everything is interchangeable!” Her cheeks are flaming, her shoulders shaking. “I want to be seen in this dress. I don’t want it ripped off me.” I can see I made a mistake, which makes me feel stupid and angry. “You always liked when I ripped your clothes before. You want me to be aggressive. I can’t read your mind, I’m just guessing.” Sabrina’s lip quivers. She looks young and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before. “You always guessed right before. When you care about something...

“Adrik has always been a son I could be proud of.”

“Remind me not to piss you off.” “If only you would take that lesson to heart,” she says, sipping her champagne. “And what about you?” I say. “Queen Shit-Stirrer.” She smiles. “What fun would it be if I always behaved?” “I can’t even picture that.” “You’ll certainly never see it.”

Perfect. I’ve managed to alienate the High Table, turn away a potential supplier, and seriously piss off the woman I love. Well done, Adrik. That’s got to be some kind of record.