Page 126 of Inked in Devotion

I spotted her in the dimly lit hallway. Or rather, I made out her form, but not her features. But what had my hackles rising was that she was talking to a man whose outline I recognized but couldn’t quite believe I was seeing. I squinted. “Who the fuck is that?”

Rurik glanced in the direction I was staring. “Dimitri? Uh-oh, he said he wanted to surprise you and told me not to tell anyone⁠—”

I would deal with his explanation later because I was stalking toward my cousin to expel him from Chloe’s presence. I scowled at Kirill briefly when he turned from his conversation to look where I was heading. Actually, everyone ceased talking because I was sure I bore a murderous expression no one had witnessed before.

I wished I had my machete, which hadn’t been strapped on my back ever since I moved in with Chloe and Sebastian.

My bare fists would do.

Chloe’s arms were crossed, hands hugging opposing biceps, making herself smaller. She and Dimitri were approaching slowly.

“Dimitri,” I growled.

Chloe’s head shot up; I could see her eyes freezing in horror when she saw me. But I was too furious to analyze if her fear was for me or for the man beside her.

“Kolya, it’s okay—” She tried to intercept me, flinging her arms out to stop my body from barreling into Dima.

No, it was not. None of this was okay.

I grabbed Dimitri by the throat. My cousin didn’t even put up a fight. But the smirk on his face amplified my anger.

I slammed him against the wall. “Don’t breathe her air, mudak!”

“You’re,” he choked out, turning purple. “Cutting off mine.”

Somewhere, breaking through the dark tunnel of my fury, Kirill asked, “What’s he doing here?”

I glared over my shoulder. “Ask Rurik.”

Maksim clasped my biceps. “Don’t kill him. Yet.”

Despite being choked to death, Dimitri managed a gust of humor, only angering me further.

“Kolya, it’s okay,” Chloe said. “He was just curious about me.” She pulled my arm. “Let him go. Don’t ruin tonight.”

I slackened my fingers.

“Please,” she whispered.

Against every instinct screaming at me, I released him and stepped back.

Dima wheezed and bent over, but the fucker had the audacity to laugh. “Damn, cousin, you’ve changed.” He straightened and eyed me mockingly through bloodshot eyes caused by my attempted strangulation, my fingermarks red on his throat. “You pussy-whipped or something?”

Several people gasped behind me, but one of them sounded like Irina.

The edges of my vision hazed black again. And I was seeing Dima’s mocking face through a narrow lens. Voices receded. My hand itched to reach for the holstered gun in my shoulder harness. I didn’t know how long I stood there seething, but the next thing I knew he was tossed against the wall, my right fist throbbed, and my face was inches from his.

Kirill inserted himself between us. “Enough. We’ll deal with your cousin later.”

“Nothing to see here, folks,” Ivan boomed. “Just boys being boys.”

“Dinner is almost ready.” Irina’s calming voice followed Ivan’s edict, as if this was a usual occurrence at these gatherings, and it was. When the bratva got together, expect scores to be settled with fists, if not a few bullet holes. The pakhan allowed this to a degree. Except it was an unusual bratva party because it was to welcome Theo into the family.

Fuck. I should apologize to Aralina later. No, I probably wouldn’t, but what was more likely was Aralina demanding one from me, and I always humored her. Judging from the way King was treating his fiancée, he was in for a surprise if he thought he was marrying a docile woman.

“Entertainment’s over,” Lucy announced. Clapping and laughter followed. “Let’s get back to the party, right? Is anyone hungry?”

“We need vodka!” someone shouted.