How to rule a king

четы́ре

Ronja:

I had been riding for nearly two hours now and yet it didn't seem like calmness was going to find me any time soon.

Not that I would have expected it. My Grandpa always had a thing for fucking with people's minds.

I think after all these years at the top he forgot how to be honest. Wickedness destroying every good that was left in him.

Not that it would have been much to begin with.

At least he had prepared me for the future ahead of me by forcing me to live with a family I never knew a thing about. He taught me how to discover others' secrets so that I could use them against them and most importantly, he showed me how to survive surrounded by strangers. Strangers like Alexei Volkov. He was nothing but rumours. Nobody really knew him. Even his men knew shit about him. They say he had been an orphan before Mikhailovich had taken him under his wing making him the ruthless monster he was now.

A couple of years ago, one of the mercenaries who had been working for Volkov had told my grandfathers men a story about Volkov always taking blood from the guys he just killed in a gunfight. When the merc had asked Volkov what he would need the blood for he got "I like to take long baths" as an answer.

At least he isn't drinking it.

That would freak me out. Just like the fact that Edward never seemed to have a problem with Bella having her time of the month. I mean, why is he struggling when kissing her but isn't when she's literally leaking blood? I'm not one to judge but seriously, I found it much easier to control myself as long as the chocolate sauce was still sealed. However, once the tube was open there was nothing stopping me from sucking that delicious ambrosia out of it.

Guess Bella wouldn't have minded having her ambrosia being sucked either.

Handing my horse back to the stable-lad I couldn't help but wonder.

Am I going to stay here or will I have to follow Volkov to his headquarters?

I didn't want to leave. I hadn't left the estate grounds in so long. I wasn't ready. Environment changes had been hard on me ever since Tokyo. Somehow my mind associated danger with every new place I was forced to go. Another reason why I had never tried to escape this place. The Siberian woods wouldn't be kind to a girl suffering a panic attack.

Seems like my mind is once again my body's prisoner.

Entering my room, I stripped, only leaving my bra and panties on and made my way to the joined walk in closet.

"No need to strip for me. I'm already wet thanks to that awesome shit."

There she was, Eliza the great, lying on my king-sized bed with a smugly looking novel in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other spreading her jeans-clothed legs as if to prove her point.

Squealing, I jumped on the bed hugging her close.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came for you, of course. Can't miss my best friend's wedding", she grinned, rolling her eyes.

She's never been one for marriage. She rather fucks rockstars just to disappear before the morning lights.

"I brought you something by the way. Give me my bag."

Moving from the bed I handed her a black shop-worn bag covered with pins and patches.

"You know, I could get you a new one. Made by any designer you choose."

Doesn't she fear that thing falling apart any minute?

"Thanks for the offer, but that piece of shit is everything I want...Ah, there it is. Enjoy."

She handed me a book that looked exactly like another copy of the smugly one she's been reading before.

"What's that? I didn't know we were a book club."

Opening the book somewhere in the middle, I started reading. Just to regret it a second later. "He took his dick in one hand, penetrating her like he was the sausage and she the roll. Catching one of the little blood droplets making their way out of her vagina with one finger just to lick it of "You taste like ketchup." He grunted moving faster." 

WTF? I'm never eating a hotdog ever again.

"What the hell is that?"

"That, my dear, will teach you everything while your virginity stays intact", Eliza smirked at me. "So you don't need to be afraid of tomorrow night."

"I'm not afraid. And even if I were this book most certainly won't ease my fear. He's imagining the girl's ass as a roll! What kind of guy does that?"

"It gets even better around page two hundred."

What happened to my best friend? Everyone knows she loves sex but comparing sex to food never was her kind of weird. Suddenly, Eliza's brows furrowed as if she was desperately trying to hold something back. Her eyes started to water and a smile made its way on her face.

"I was just kidding. Did you seriously believe I'd read something like that? I'm all in for all kinds of love making, but please leave the food out of it."

Throwing a pillow at her I screamed: "You ruined me with that book! I'll never be able to have sex without seeing sausages and rolls."

How could she? I'll never get that picture out of my head.

"If Alexei's sausage is nearly as great as its said to be, you'll be fine, darling."

With that she got up from my bed putting on her dark grey leather jacket that hung over a chair-back.

"Where are you heading? It's nearly midnight."

"Well, your hot fiancé called the studio a few hours before. He wants to add another tattoo to his collection of death. And I have the honour of giving it to him----wait, I didn't mean for it to come out this way. I meant I am the one creating art on his masterpiece of a body. Art in giving him a tattoo...not as in something else."

With that she made her way out of the door. I couldn't help but laugh. I would be married in less than twenty-four hours and my future husband was busy getting another reminder of death tattooed on his skin. He must have picked it up when Mikhailovich was still breathing. For each kill either planned or already went through he got another small tattoo on his back. When death had claimed him, Mikhailovich was carrying a piece of art. Alexei must have followed his lead. The only question left to ask was whether he had killed tonight or planned on doing it tomorrow.

Only one way to find out.