Ivan’s fist dropped, and a smooth mask dropped over his features.
“Brother.” Ivan’s voice was conciliatory. “You have my apologies for any offense. It is so… discouraging when I disappoint our family. I judge myself harshly. You know I only want what is best for my sons. Truly, I do not deserve the concern you have shown me.”
Manipulative bastard.
Oleg dropped him, and Ivan was on his feet again, smoothing his shirt and donning a jovial mask, despite the anger Oleg could see still swimming behind his eyes.
“Come.” Ivan spread his hands. “Let’s drink together.” He walked to a side table and reached for a bottle of vodka.
Oleg stared at him, curious what Ivan’s next play would be.
“Come drink with me and let me ask your opinion on this Bulgarian manufacturer I am going to meet in Budapest, yes? High-end beauty products, those things that women love.” Ivan chuckled. “The humans will pay top dollar for a cream that costs five euro to make. Can you believe it?”
Oleg watched Ivan pouring the drinks, wondering if his brother would have tried to slip poison in Oleg’s drink if there were a chance it might work.
Probably.
Oleg perched on the edge of the table, his hands folded loosely. “I’m leaving Oksana and Ludmila in Moscow. As security liaisons.”
“Good, good.” Ivan’s smile looked plastered on. “What an excellent idea. All we need to do is send Ludmila with the trucks, yes? No one would even come close if she was with them.” He chuckled. “That woman scares the shit out of everyone.” Ivan handed Oleg a clear glass of vodka and threw his own back. “She reminds me of my first wife. I miss her.”
Ivan had probably killed her. He abhorred powerful women and had none in leadership.
“They will report directly to me,” Oleg continued.
“Of course.” Ivan waved a hand. “I appreciate the assistance.”
Oleg would have to tell Oksana and Ludmila to be on their guard, not that they would be anything else.
“I want this to work.” Oleg clasped Ivan on the side of the neck, letting his hand remain startlingly warm. If Ivanwere a water vampire, his skin would be steaming. “We’ve had centuries working together, haven’t we, old man?”
Oleg’s patronizing tone almost broke through Ivan’s facade.
“Of course.” Ivan’s smile showed the edge of his fangs. “Our family is strong, brother.”
He patted Ivan’s cheek. “Just as Truvor would have wanted.”
The silence in the room was as heavy as Ivan’s feet.
What Truvor would have wanted.
Their sire would have loved this. Loved to see Oleg and Ivan fighting. He would have laughed and laughed in glee.
Then he would have made one of them hurt the other.
Was that why Oleg still let Ivan live? Would giving in to his instincts to kill Ivan be giving in to the bloody instincts that had forged him?
Oleg heard Truvor’s laughter in the back of his mind and knew that in too many ways, he was still dancing to his bloody sire’s tune.
Oksana saton the couch next to Ludmila, her arm stretched across the back of the sofa behind her wife. She wore a concerned expression on her face. “What are you going to do about Ivan?”
“You don’t have to kill him yourself,” Ludmila said. “I could do it. I would be happy to do it.”
Oleg smirked. “So generous.”
“Oh yes.” His favorite sniper leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Yes, it’s because I’m very generous and not at all because I have dreamed of punching my fist throughhis nose so hard that my fist actually goesthroughhis face” —she lifted her small fist and bared her fingers like claws— “then I would grab his pitiful excuse for brains and kind of chop them up” —she yanked her hand back— “and pull them out through the big hole I just made in his face, and then I would?—”
“We get the idea,” Mika said. “You would like to kill Ivan.”
