Is that a… dildo?
Except it’s purple and looks like it came from an octopus, flanged and curved and spiked in every direction.
I’m so hard it hurts.
I pretend I don’t notice my aching erection as I sort through the remaining contents. There are handcuffs, restraints, flavored lubes that I can’t imagine Alyssa using.
Of course, the moment I think as much, my brain figures I’ve just issued it a challenge. Because suddenly, my head’s spinning with images of Alyssa; her tight little body, wrapped in lace and leather, holding up one of the sex toys and gesturing for me to come closer.
Blyat’。
The whole point of this search is to find my package. Not to snoop through hers. Although I’m starting to see why she’d decided to go all Mission: Impossible on me in order to retrieve it. Sex toys are no big deal in my book—but after spending a couple of hours together, I can see why it might be a big deal in hers.
I put the toys back in their box, but like an addict, I go back to her underwear drawer.
I pull out the lavender panties I spied earlier and stuff them in my pocket. Just a little memento to mark the night. Not that I need one, what with her currently snoozing in my bed. But now that I’ve got a prize tucked away, it’s easier to force myself downstairs and focus on business.
I duck into the kitchen and start opening drawers. Her cupboards are mostly filled with cereal, canned goods, mundane shit like that. Nothing that can spoil. There’s a carton of skim milk in the fridge next to some fresh fruit and yogurt cups. And to my amusement, a half-eaten salad and a moldy loaf of bread.
Fucking nailed it, I think to myself with amusement.
I shut the door and go for the freezer compartment next. Nothing out of the ordinary here. I’m halfway to shutting it when—
Wait.
I look back inside. I’m staring at a box that definitely doesn’t belong in the fridge. My pulse pounds in my temples. Bingo. This is it.
Pulling the package out, I register how light it is. If she’d thrown away the contents, why put an empty box in the freezer? Then I take a look inside.
Ah. Well—it’s definitely not empty.
I set the box down and call the one person I know I can call for anything. “Niko.” I can practically hear him grinding his teeth. He hates when people call him anything other than Nikolai.
“What?”
“There’s a situation. I need you.”
That’s the thing about brotherly bonds: it doesn’t matter how annoyed you get; it doesn’t matter how many resentments you have. When you’re called…
“I’m on my way,” he says immediately.
You show up.
10
URI
Nikolai is standing by my front door when I walk up. “This better be good,” he says. “You know Lev will freak out if he wakes up and I’m not there.”
I roll my eyes. “I told you to replicate the basement at your place. That way, he’ll be more at ease when he sleeps over.”
“You want me to spend a fortune so that my French-inspired bedrooms can be remodeled to mimic that depressing basement?”
“That ‘depressing basement’ has a marble counter kitchenette, a king-sized bed, and built-in surround sound.”
“And no windows.”
“Lev doesn’t like the sun.”
Nikolai looks bored now. “He plays football with you in the yard. Pretty sure the sun’s around when that happens.”
“Football with me is the carrot I’m dangling to get him out of that basement.”
Nikolai sighs impatiently. “Why am I here at 3:00 A.M., little brother?”
Little brother. I needle him with “Niko” and he needles me with that title. On the face of it, it’s accurate. I am the younger brother—but I am also the pakhan. I’m his pakhan. And even though he stepped aside and accepted my ascension to the helm, there are moments when I’m pretty sure he regrets it.
I hand him the box. Nikolai takes one look at the stump of a finger inside and glances back up at me with raised eyebrows. “Gift from Sobakin?”
“Who else? It was thrown over the front gate from the passenger seat of a white van.”
Nikolai smirks darkly. “He’s really leaning into the whole supervillain thing.”
“I’m gonna need an ID on that finger.”
Nikolai nods. “I’ll get right on it.”
He’s getting ready to leave when I stop him. “We may have a bigger problem.”
He turns back to me slowly, his eyes narrowed. In broad strokes, I tell him about Alyssa, about how she scaled my fence, made the mistake of stealing the wrong package, and then made the bigger mistake of opening it. I omit the dining room table sex for now. It doesn’t seem relevant.