They swung open the cage door, cattle prods at full power, humming with electricity. The man lazily lifted his hands in surrender. "Now, now." He said softly. His voice was like velvet. "No need. I'll do as you please." The man in the cage said, his...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Kiril shoved his trembling hands into his pockets before Ivan had the chance to see them shake. His body ran hot with passion and he found himself fighting the urge to dismiss Ivan and turn back to finish what he'd started with Theophania.
Before he could, a voice cut through his mental barriers and into the surface level of his mind. "You're needed," came the curt words of his oldest brother. Then, as quickly as it had come, the presence faded into that constant background hum that always stayed with him.
The slow burn of resentment replaced the hungry flames of passion as he thought about meeting with Vsevolod. He'd destroyed any love Theophania could possibly have had for him when he forced her to kill the girl. Furthermore, he was the reason that life in the town had continued on the path their father set them on.
He brewed on this resentment until his skin went cold and his mind was silent.
—
The manor was gaudy, and dark. Ornately carved pillars held up the balcony above the front door, and an array of exotic and toxic plants bloomed in the glass gardens. It was a symbol of the wealth they'd taken, and made here in the Alaskan wilderness off of their cruelty.
The door knocker was a wolf's head, a heavy golden ring in its jaws, but he ignored it and walked right in. This was his home too, after all.
He strode further into the innards of the house, trying his best to ignore the extravagant paintings of war and statues robed only in thin silk. Vsevolod liked to remind Mitroshka and Kiril of the glory in war.
Kiril knew better. He knew when someone died on your blade that it rocked you to your core. 'Forgive me.' Her voice echoed in his head, and he shuddered as he approached the door to their fathers office. Vsevolod's office now.
Vsevolod was seated in the high backed chair behind the desk, mulling over an old map. He ignored Kiril for a long moment. Normally he would've been indifferent to these antics, but today it made his blood sizzle.
"What do you want?" Kiril spoke, his voice short and gruff.
Vsevolod looked up from his map and twirled a pen in his fingers as he observed the frigid man before him.
"I want a report on our little weapon," he finally said.
Kiril paused, choosing his words very carefully. "She is fed up." He suggested. "If we don't show her that the stakes are still high with her brother, She will run or begin to plot."
It made his skin crawl, knowing that the question was just a false courtesy. If he wanted to know, his brother could crack open his mind and examine every dredge of it as it leaked out. Mitroshka had given him a reason to do just that once. Kiril knew it wasn't the only cause for his brother's madness, but it had stripped him of his ability to heal it.
