God of Vengeance

The voices and gasps grew louder as everyone witnessed the embarrassment of Landon King being soaked in goo, his perfect exterior collapsing beautifully in front of his little servants.

I wished I could take a picture, but I knew there were eyes everywhere, just waiting to catch the culprits behind this scheme. And there was no way in hell I was getting caught before finding my sister, who should have been here by now.

I tried not to look frantic or out of place among the crowd, who were still yelping and chatting excitedly, scanning their surroundings as if they could spot me if they looked closely enough. But we were all wearing masks, and there were too many people for anyone to single out a blonde girl in a black dress as an imposter.

At least, that was my safety net until now—until my sister failed to show up on time.

Mia was a smart girl.

We didn't just share the same looks; we shared the same ambition and loyalty.
We'd been trained to be smart. We could find exits and defend ourselves with ease. That's how our parents had raised us.
She was even better than me in all those things.

And we'd been taught to always be on time so as not to worry anyone. Especially in the world we grew up in, punctuality was holy. Because besides the worry, it was the risk you would put anyone into. So we knew better, since we were small, to be on time.

Which was why this situation was making me nervous as hell.

This wasn't good.

This wasn't good at all.

When Mia first came up with the idea of breaking into the Elites' mansion and carrying out a little revenge operation, I was all in.

God, I was so in.

Mia was right. We had to do something about this King pest, who'd been doing nothing but wreaking havoc since, well, forever. Honestly, this guy was so damn bored that it was nothing less than ridiculous at this point. Like go find yourself a hobby, dude, what the hell?!
He used the Heathens, including our brother, for his own entertainment in multiple occasions.
And mind you, Nikolai and his friends weren't easy targets.

I wasn't stupid. (Not that they tried to hide their true nature; we'd all grown up in this mafia world. We knew who we were.) But I knew more than they wanted us girls to see.

And I was just as sick of waiting and watching them get hurt and disrespected by a bored British bitch with a severe God complex.

God, he was so arrogant. It irked me to no end.

I'd never admit it, but next to him, I came across as the most humble person on the planet. And that said a lot, because I might be many things, but humble wasn't one of them.

Well, not in the public eye, at least.

I couldn't imagine a woman next to that infuriating prick. Like, how would that even work? Would they kiss each other's asses as a good morning ritual, print each other's pictures to frame them in gold, and constantly compete over who deserved the other more?

I shivered.

That sounded ridiculous and sooooo Landon King.

I didn't like to cuss, but honestly, fuck the woman he was going to end up with, because she'd be just as unbearable as he was. For sure.

So yes, I had plenty of reasons to be here, one of them being the sheer antipathy I felt toward this guy.

Yet I had to secretly admit that revenge hadn't been my first thought when Mia had snuck into my room and explained her plan to me.

I just needed to do something.
Something distracting.
Something out of the usual and something I shouldn’t get myself involved in.
Just anything.
I needed to get out of the mansion for a while, do something I shouldn't be doing but could claim as my own decision. Maybe then I could forget about a certain other situation that had happened a few days ago, one I most definitely didn't want to stand by.

This was something I truly wanted.

I most definitely hadn't wanted to be on my knees for a certain someone and…

I swallowed, feeling my ears grow hot at the brief thought of said occasion I hadn't been able to stop dreaming about over the past few days.

No, that definitely hadn't been a decision I'd made for myself. He'd pushed me down. He'd forced me—

You know he didn't. You let him.

Oh yeah, hi. Let me introduce you to that annoying traitor in my head, who kept trying to convince me otherwise.
And I knew why she did. I knew she knew what force could have looked like and how I'd have truly reacted if I hadn't wanted it.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

People were shuffling around, and security was barking orders left and right, clearly trying to control the crowd and prevent anyone from leaving until their King allowed them to.

Mia couldn't be gone now.
They couldn't have caught her, right?

You let your sister get caught again?

I straightened as a voice reached my ears, one that had no business attacking me out of the blue.

Not here. Not now.
I couldn't be dealing with this in such a public place.

You should've done it. Not her. You should've protected her better!

My throat went dry as the voice grew louder. My eyes darted around frantically, searching for reassurance that no one else could hear it—or worse, that no one was standing next to me, trying to get inside my head.

But no one knew what was going on or what I was struggling with, so I had to keep it together.

While the commotion continued, I sidestepped a security guard who startled me for a second. I thought he was reaching for me, but he was actually rushing after a guy who was walking suspiciously fast. I grabbed the first doorknob I could find and hurriedly opened the door, trying to remain as calm as possible.

Thank God, the door opened into a bathroom occupied by two men making out, who were obviously completely oblivious to the chaos outside.

I cocked my hip, brushed my hair back with one hand, and pointed my thumb toward the door.

"Out."

Both masked men looked at me rather unimpressed, but straightened up when they heard the commotion outside. One of them grabbed his jacket and his boy toy's hand, brushing past me on his way out—not without throwing me a glare through his mask.

Whoops.

I didn't care.

The bathroom was spacious, more like a sitting area, with a large couch in the middle and a little table holding candles and snacks. Everything was gold, white, and luxurious. I was impressed by the taste.

I took a few more steps into the enormous bathroom, looking around to make sure no one was lurking in the far corner or that another gay couple wasn't making out under the spacious shower.
Thankfully, there was no one else.

When I felt a breeze against the back of my neck, I turned to see the door slowly opening again. I rushed back and locked it.

"Occupied," I said in a deeper voice than usual, thinking someone tried to get inside.
No one answered.

I turned and leaned against the door, allowing myself a few deep breaths before walking over to the large sink and leaning over it. I needed to get a grip and trust that Mia was okay. Just because of all the commotion, she probably needed a little more time.
That's it.

Of course. Find a way to avoid the obvious. You put your sister in danger again.

I winced, clutching my head with both hands as if I could squeeze the voice right out of it.

You'd think you'd have learned from your mistakes by now.
But instead, you just carry on, not caring at all about her well-being…

"Shut up," I whispered, shaking my head as if that could stop the voice from tormenting me.

I couldn't afford to panic now, not in the middle of enemy territory.
This was the worst possible place to lose myself in these thoughts. The absolute worst.

And thanks to you, she can't even talk. So how would she scream for help?

A small whimper escaped my throat as I gripped the sink again, feeling as though I might faint and vomit all at once.
This wasn't fair.

This was nothing compared to what had happened. I knew I didn’t deserve fair but, this was just … not the same, right?
This was just something silly.
Just… just stupid revenge.
A little prank.

If the Elites did anything to Mia, Nikolai and his psychopath friends would tear this place down. Which was precisely why they wouldn't dare lay a finger on her. We girls were never in the middle of this whole battle, so they wouldn’t start now,… right?!

And besides, if they'd caught her, we would have known by now.
Landon loved attention.

God, that prick loved attention so much that, of course, he'd make a whole announcement if he caught one of the Heathen sisters.
He would’ve probably presented her right now to his little peasants to get his dick wet by all their cheers.

Slowly, I allowed myself to calm down, look up and meet my own gaze in the enormous mirror in front of m—

I gasped as two large hands seized me, one closing around my throat while the other cupped my jaw, pulling me back against a broad chest. A man with white-blond hair leaned down, agonizingly slowly, his ice-blue eyes locked on my panicked ones as he whispered in Russian.

«What are you doing here, printsessa?»

My heart stopped for a second before ricocheting into overdrive, struggling to keep up with the realization that I'd been caught inside the Elites' mansion by none other than Ilya Levitsky.

I tried to swallow against his firm grip, and damn it, I - I couldn't help feeling relieved to see him here.

It was simply because he was familiar and on my side—more or less—and not one of the Elites.

At least, that was my excuse for the feeling of safety settling in my chest, even as it battled against the intense rush of adrenaline and the arousal slowly pooling in the pit of my stomach when I realized just how firmly Ilya's hips were pressed against my backside.

Something rather large was definitely concealed beneath his trousers.

I hoped it was his gun.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"Ilya," I choked out after what felt like an eternity of staring into his ice-cold gaze. He slowly shifted his eyes away from the mirror and down to me.

I followed his movement in the reflection as he leaned closer, until his lips were almost brushing my ear.

"I won't ask again," he said, switching to English.

The warmth of his breath against my sensitive ear nearly drew a whimper from me.

I raised my hands to grip his arms as he tightened his hold, and damn it, if that didn't make me even hotter.
I shouldn't have felt this safe in the arms of a damn dog, someone who to my dismay looked more like a big, angry, silver wolf than anything else at that moment.

His white-and-gold mask covered half his face, but I would have recognized those cold, stoic eyes from miles away.

"If you didn't know what I was doing, you wouldn't be here, now would you?" I tilted my head toward him, and he let me move closer, until our lips were almost touching. "Dog," I added.

I watched his upper lip twitch, eyes burning as he breathed out harshly.
For a moment, he remained perfectly still. The commotion outside seemed to fade into nothing, as though the world had stopped just for us.

Then, without warning, he caught me by the jaw and pulled me toward the sink, forcing me to bend over it.

I gasped as his other hand gathered my hair and pushed me farther forward, my breasts spilling over the edge of the sink as he made me look at myself in the mirror.

He towered over me like the devil himself, dressed in a crisp black shirt with his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. Two buttons were undone, exposing a silver necklace with a small, teardrop-shaped stone dangling from it.

Did he always wear that?

I couldn't analyze it any further before Ilya pressed his hips against mine and nudged my legs apart with his foot, leaving me bent over in a position that made his intentions painfully clear.

And I hated how I didn't hate it.

God, what the hell was wrong with me?

This was not—

He thrust his hips against me while simultaneously pulling my hair and pushing two fingers into my mouth, making me moan around them.

"You're in no position to be bratty, Sokolov," he growled, pinning my hips in place with his as I felt him harden beneath his trousers.
My eyes watered when he pushed his fingers farther into my mouth, making me gag for a moment. I had to endure the entire humiliation while staring at myself in the mirror.

I'd never felt so helpless and yet strangely safe and aroused in my entire life. I was seriously starting to think I was sick.

He pressed against me again, and my eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming sensation. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from my mouth, never once taking his eyes off mine.

I took a deep breath, refusing to cough and give him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle. I didn't know how my black mask was still in place, but I was grateful for it. At least it concealed part of my face—and some of my pathetic expression.

Still, I would never admit defeat to him, no matter how disadvantaged I was at that moment.

"And do tell," I rasped, allowing the corners of my lips to lift slightly. "What position am I in, then, Levitsky?"

Ilya growled, sounding both furious and frustrated. His eyes left mine for a second as he rolled them back, almost making me believe he actually enjoyed my backtalk.
He tightened his grip on my hair, holding me as still as he could, before reaching down and lifting my dress—

"You're not wearing underwear?" he rasped.

The shock in his usually controlled voice nearly made me laugh.

"Panty lines aren't cute," I shot back, trying not to squirm at the sudden chill.

Smack.

I gasped so loudly that my voice echoed through the bathroom alongside the sound of his slap.

"Wha—"

"Shut up."

His voice was so dark and dangerous that I startled, suddenly no longer brave enough to talk back. At least, not right then.

Another slap followed against my other cheek. When I tried to move away, he pulled me back by my hair, making me groan in discomfort.

After two more slaps, he leaned over and cupped my breast, pulling it free from the built-in bra of my dress. He tugged at my nipple so sharply that I thought he might tear it.

"Ah, s-stop, please," I whimpered, unable to help myself.

He was hurting me so much that I was—what? Getting wet?
Damn it, I was, wasn't I?

The slickness between my legs was driving me insane, and I feared I was about to leave a trail on the pristine marble floor.

Ilya didn't listen. He continued, and before I could stop myself, I was pressing into his hands, encouraging his grip even as I struggled to make sense of my own reactions.
I could see it.
The desperation in his eyes.

I knew it was desperation, frustration, and something else, all tangled together, because his expression mirrored my own.

"I-Ilya," I whimpered as he leaned in toward my ear, his teeth grazing it before his hand moved between my thighs, cupping my pussy, like it was the most natural thing.

I rose onto my tiptoes, startled by the sudden intensity of the moment as he rubbed rather roughly his palm against my clit. Once, twice and before I could fully process what was happening, the sensations overwhelmed me, and a scream ricocheted through the enormous bathroom as I climaxed, my orgasm shaking my whole body.
I was so aroused by him manhandling me, that I only needed a brief touch on my clit to explode.

Ilya watched me with such intensity that I wanted to hide as the moment passed. Even then, I found myself leaning toward him, unable to settle my racing pulse.
What… did just happen? And why was it already over… ?!

We were both panting heavily when Ilya suddenly pulled away. So sudden, it appeared almost as if he had burned himself on me.
My knees felt like jelly, and I nearly stumbled, awkwardly grabbing the sink to steady myself when he let me go.

"If you're not back at the mansion in forty minutes, I'm calling Nikolai."

Confused, I blinked at the abruptness of his words. I nearly hurt myself trying to pull my dress back into place when Ilya unlocked the door and opened it without another word, seemingly unconcerned that I was still struggling to regain my balance.

Without looking back, he walked out.

And just like that, he left me feeling abandoned and used.

***

Obviously, something had happened to Mia while she was gone longer than we'd planned. But she was too deep in her own thoughts to notice that I'd also strayed from our plan, albeit unwillingly.

I didn't have much energy left to bicker when we finally found each other. Thankfully, she interpreted my frustration as anger over how she'd worried me, rather than realizing that I felt used, mistreated, and a little sexually frustrated, considering I could still feel the slickness between my legs.

I didn't want to admit it, but by a certain bodyguards demand, I rushed us home as quickly as I could, almost making Mia stumble when she signed for me to slow down and reminded me that the guys weren't home.

Well, I knew one guy who would most definitely be aware of our arrival, no matter where he was.

I should have been furious with Ilya, but instead, I felt… guilty?

For putting myself in a situation I shouldn't have?
No, I didn't think so.

Then what?

He was disgusted by you.

I swallowed and hurried through the door as the thought took hold of me.

Was he? Could that be it?

First, you let him use your mouth, and now he's manhandled you into coming with barely any effort. Like a needy whore.

Mia signed something to me, but I didn't see it. I was too busy blinking away tears as the voices in my head grew louder.

I was cheap, just as he'd always implied.
An easy, pathetic whore he could use.

A blur in front of me caught my attention, and I refocused on my sister, who was signing to ask if I was okay.
I shook my head as if I could somehow regain my composure, then signed a simple okay.
When she still wasn't satisfied, I whispered, "I got really scared for you, okay? That's all."

That seemed to convince her. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly, and I was grateful she couldn't see my face slowly crumpling.

"Sorry," she traced against my back with her finger, making me chuckle humorlessly.

"You owe me a girls' night with my favorite movie."

She let out a groan, but I knew she'd agreed when we slowly pulled apart. I gave her my best poker face, hiding the shame I was currently feeling.

Want me to sleep with you tonight? she signed.

I shook my head and answered in sign language.

"I'll take a shower and probably watch Mean Girls until I fall asleep. There were too many incels touching me tonight, and I need my quiet and peace right now."

She giggled but nodded, giving me a kiss and wishing me a good night before heading to her room.

The moment she disappeared around the corner, I let my guard down and bowed my head, allowing myself a moment of weakness in the dimly lit hallway. The hallway lights were automatic, and I'd been standing there motionless for so long that they eventually switched off, granting me the protection of darkness.

This was a lot for one day, and the thing with Ilya might just become my thirteenth reason.

Stupid, stupid Maya!
What the hell was wrong with you?!
You were a Sokolov, daughter of Rai Sokolov and Kyle Hunter, granddaughter of— When I finally opened the door to my room, I stared into the darkness. Moonlight filtered through the curtains covering my large window, but a tall silhouette blocked part of the view.

Without a second thought, I knew it was Ilya, standing in the darkness of my room.

I automatically raised my hand to switch on the light, but stopped just short of the switch. I swallowed as I stared at his silhouette. After a brief moment of standing there, both of us breathing quietly, I lowered my hand to my side, deciding against turning on the light, and stepped inside.

As I'd opened my bedroom door, the hallway lights had switched back on. From the doorway, their glow illuminated part of my room, reaching as far as my bed. Ilya stood on the other side of it, directly in front of the window., still being protected by the dark.

When I finally closed the door behind me, plunging us into complete darkness save for the moonlight filtering through the curtains, I heard him move slowly, like a panther prowling through a dense, shadowy forest.

His low voice cut through the darkness like a dark promise.

"Forty-one minutes."

Goosebumps spread across my skin as I tried desperately to adjust my eyes to the darkness, hoping to make out the danger approaching me.

"Are you going to hold me accountable for one tiny minute?" I countered, proud of myself for not sounding too breathless or scared.

Why was I even explaining myself to him?!
To hell with him! He had no right to make demands of me whatsoever. He—

"I'm going to hold you accountable for the whole night, printsessa."

And there went my self-respect, along with my nipples, which hardened at the nickname.

Whenever he used it, I knew I was safe.
Safer with him than without him, at least.

"You owe me," he rasped.

I startled, realizing he was standing directly in front of me now.

I could feel the heat radiating from him, and it took all my willpower not to lean toward him.

"What do you want?" I breathed, unable to steady my voice now that he was so close.

"Dinner," he growled.

Huh?

I tilted my head in confusion. That wasn't what I'd expected.

"Dinner—AH!"

Before I could fully process my confusion, Ilya scooped me up by the legs and crossed the room in a few long strides, tossing me onto my bed.

I gasped, my eyes adjusting to the darkness just as the moonlight finally illuminated his face. His blue eyes seemed to glow like the aurora borealis as he looked down at me.

"Dinner," he repeated, slowly lowering himself toward the bed as he spread my legs with his hands, making me watch him as I propped myself up on my elbows.

Oh.

Oh.

Dinner.

I felt my face grow hot as his gaze traveled hungrily over my face, my breasts, and my hips before settling on the space between my thighs, gradually revealed as he spread my legs farther.

"I couldn't eat tonight, so you owe me my dinner, printsessa."