Broken Wolf: Moonbound Series, Book Seven Read online

  “Cabby, stop there in front of Hot Curls. The one with the pink canvas overhang.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Vadik opened the side door and Andrea gasped for breath. She’d thought the inside of the cab was cold, but that gust of wind threatened to cover her arms in a thin layer of ice. Her breath puffed out in front of her, a frosty cloud of doom. She had the uncanny feeling that she’d be uncomfortable for the entire time they spent in Chicago.

  Niko climbed out with Dani ahead of her. Luther offered her a hand and she stepped out of the taxi onto one of the grimiest smelly sidewalks she’d ever seen. Mounds of shit-colored snow had been shoveled to one side or the other and the road was filled with more blackened snow. Or what used to be snow.

  “Welcome to Pulaski Park. Make sure you stay with me, or with Nat, when you’re outside,” Niko added quickly.

  Andrea shivered and stepped a little closer to Vadik’s broad back. His chest cut a swath through the icy wind threatening to turn her into an ice sculpture.

  “Wait here. We’ll be right back,” he told the cabby.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The group followed Niko into a hair salon that looked like it could’ve been a stage prop for an old 70’s TV show. Nice wood floors, but the rest of it was covered in bevel-edged mirrors, coral and white retro wall-paper, and a set of two pink hair dryers sat in the far corner.

  Holy crap.

  “Natalja!” Niko shouted.

  Andrea was expecting a blonde with a frizzy perm to poke her head out from the back room, but had to take a double look when a dark-haired, curvy woman, barely taller than Maggie appeared in sight. She was rocking some sexy red lips and her almost black hair was slick and straight, up in a high ponytail and still hanging nearly to her waist. Several bright pink streaks showed though her hair too, reminding Andrea of Hannah’s blue statement highlight.

  The small woman ran across the room and launched herself into Niko’s arms. “Bubba, you’re here! We’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, Nat.” Niko laughed. “This is the rest of the team. And here’s the one I was telling you about.”

  Andrea waved when he introduced her and raised both eyebrows.

  “She’s the one? May the gods be with me.” Natalja threw Andrea a pitying glance and then shifted her focus to the tall Russian in the room. “Who is this handsome piece of meat, Niko? Have you brought me a toy?”

  Andrea could’ve sworn Vadik’s cheeks colored slightly.

  Niko’s little sister strutted up to Vadik without hesitation and ran a finger along his coat sleeve. “Do you like to be spanked, big boy?”

  Andrea’s eye twitched and she pressed her lips tightly. She didn’t like Nah-tall-yah touching Vadik. It bothered her way more than it should’ve.

  “Not at all.”

  Natalja shrugged. “I always have to ask.” She smiled and turned back to her brother as Niko released an exasperated sigh.

  “I need to leave you with Vadik and Andrea while I take the rest of the group to see Uncle J.”

  She nodded. “We’ll get started on the hair first and then I’ll take them out to shop. Both of them need some new stuff if they’re going to pull off what you want.”

  “Sounds great.” Niko turned to Andrea and Vadik. “Stay with my sister. You’ll be safe here.”

  Andrea nodded and Vadik inclined his head, acknowledging Niko’s instructions.

  Niko turned and left, motioning the rest of the group to follow.

  The little bell on the door rang as it slammed shut behind the last of the team.

  Natalja walked over to a stylist’s chair and patted the seat. “Come on, honey. We got our work cut out for us.”

  Andrea gulped and twirled a long strand of her perfect blonde hair around a finger. Damn. Why did Sasha have to have black hair?

  Vadik had learned to cultivate comfort in any situation, but this beauty salon was pushing his hard limits. The pink didn’t bother him, the clientele didn’t bother him, but he hated—hated—the gossip.

  Listen more, talk less, Babushka would say.

  It underlined his desire not to take women on jobs. Flapping the gums distracted from focusing on the mission. And these women were queen jawers.

  He stayed by Andrea’s side while Natalja worked her magic. She was his responsibility now, and he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight after all Niko’s you’ll be safe here.

  Vadik had grown up on the streets of Grozny. He wasn’t afraid of a bunch of Polish teenagers who thought they were killing machines.

  But… trouble never comes alone.

  Two young women in the next occupied chair eyed him and spoke in loud Polish. They glanced between him and Andrea, and their inflection left little doubt as to the content of their conversation.

  He fought not to roll his eyes.

  As if these strangers had any right to comment on his sex life. Or Andrea’s.

  Natalja returned to the chair and flipped her hands through the black hair. She took the comb from her pocket and drew it through. “Yes, I think this turned out well. Now…” She turned the chair around so that Andrea faced the mirror.

  The look of displeasure on the Texan’s face tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he bit back the smile.

  “What do you think?” The red-lipped stylist asked, flashing her white teeth. “Pretty good, given the circumstances.”

  Andrea pulled her fingers through her long hair. “I don’t think it’s as dark as Sasha’s, though.”

  Natalja drew her lips together and fingered a few strands of hair. “I can lay down another color, but not for at least twenty-four hours.”

  “We don’t have that kind of time.” Vadik crossed his hands. When Andrea’s eyes flipped up to him, he added, “According to Luther.”

  “Well, Niko said she has to pass.” Natalja turned the chair so that Andrea faced him, instead of the mirror. “What do you think?”

  He allowed his gaze to travel over every inch of her head, taking his slow time. The color didn’t seem right—but he couldn’t pinpoint why. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll have to see them side-by-side.”

  The stylist clucked her tongue. “I told Niko, if we’re talking BDSM stuff, we can’t go the wig route. A common move for masters is to grab their slaves by the hair. I’d have to do a weave for it to hold against that. And even then…”

  Andrea’s intake of breath was obvious. Even the Polish gossipers next door glanced over at it.

  Vadik moved to stand between her and the nosy women.

  “He’s going to grab my hair?” Her hand moved into the dark folds and got lost.

  “It’s a common move. And we don’t know what the rules are, so we didn’t want to risk it.” Natalja took Andrea’s hand as it emerged from her hair. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll do my best to teach him to be gentle.”

  Andrea’s gaze flickered to his and held there. His heart thudded a deep bass and he had to concentrate to keep his breath steady.

  Her eyes were drawn and held a flicker of fear that she appeared to be tamping down by sheer will.

  Don’t be afraid, my girl, I won’t hurt you. He almost couldn’t stop it from coming through his lips, but he bit the words back. It wouldn’t do to show any sign of weakness. Especially not in front of Natalja.

  Vadik cleared his throat and broke the eye contact. “So, wigs are out.”

  “Yes. That means we may need another day to get this color to match what Sasha has. It’s almost black, but—”

  “But not black.” Andrea nodded. “Well, you have to take us somewhere else, anyway. Right?”

  “Yes. I told Niko we’d be at Diva Dallas. That’s probably the best place to find that sort of wardrobe around here.” Natalja flourished the salon cape off Andrea’s body and disappeared into the back of the salon.

  As she fiddled with her hair, little bumps formed on her skin and she made the tiniest shivering motion. Then her nipples began to point dangerously under that shirt.r />
  Vadik couldn’t take his eyes off them.

  He licked his lips and stared at the points straining against her tank top. Her breasts were already visible enough against the material, hanging in perfect globes, but then the nipples brought more attention to them.

  The last thing she needed was a bunch of leering jackasses, staring at those perfect nipples and imagining what they looked like and felt like and tasted like…

  Nope. He pushed off his heel and ran after Natalja. He almost ran in to her, coming out of the back.

  “Do you have a coat, for Andrea?” He nodded backwards. “She’s from Texas, and she doesn’t have one with her.”

  “Well, I’ve got plenty of coats, but I don’t know if any of them will fit her.” Natalja put her hands out in front of her generous breasts and laughed. “I’m a little bigger on top than she is.”

  “Anything you have will be great.” He smiled and she walked him to the counter.

  “I’m going out for a bit, honey,” the stylist said to the blonde behind the counter. “I’ll take your coat, if you don’t mind.” She kissed her cheek with a loud smack and pulled a puffy black jacket off the coatrack behind her. “Will this be okay?” she asked Vadik.

  He took the coat and nodded. When he turned around, Andrea stood behind him, her perky nipples begging for his gaze. Instead, he pushed the coat at her.

  “Put this on. You’re practically indecent.”

  Her smile was already only half-hearted, but she held it and slipped the coat on. “Thanks. I’ve been cold since we landed.”

  “I know. I heard.” He about-faced and began walking to the door. The sight of her raising her arms and making those perfect boobs of hers dance for him was almost too much.

  He didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about the degree of nakedness he’d be able to achieve during what was supposed to be a job.

  Natalja bundled them through the door and Vadik reveled in the tiny bite of the cold. He wished it were colder. Siberian cold. As Babushka would say, torture is a good teacher.

  “This way,” she signaled as she turned down the street. Vadik gestured for Andrea to walk just in front of him, but Natalja called back. “Stop being a gentleman, Mr. Petrov. Your slave should walk behind you.”

  His throat, shoulders, and fingers tightened in quick succession. He didn’t like the idea of Andrea being out of his sight. “How far behind me?”

  Natalja turned around, walking backwards on the grimy street. “Far enough that she’s not in your sight.” She stopped. “I know your instinct is to protect her, but this is why you have me with you. I need to break you of your instincts, if you’re going to be a believable Master.”

  “Oh, he’s master enough,” came Andrea’s melodic joke.

  Vadik found himself smiling, against his will again, and he quashed it. “I can be the dominant, no worry there.”

  “Ah, but it’s not about being dominant, it’s about being Master.” Natalja held up one finger. “That means your needs are first. And her service is about your needs.”

  He flexed his shoulders, glancing at Andrea beside him. She was cuddled up in the puffy, black coat and seemed less like a slave than a…than a girl.

  “If you’re going to be the Master, it’ll be your little behaviors that will give you away.” Natalja came between them and placed Andrea about a foot behind him, over his left shoulder.

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t want her doing this in the first place.” Vadik looked behind him. The street was mostly empty, save the automobile traffic, and he trusted his reflexes enough to be able to get to anyone who would hurt her, even out of arm’s length. But he was still on edge.

  “There.” Natalja brushed something off Andrea’s shoulder. “Let’s begin the lessons now, then. So, Andrea, you’re going to have to keep your eyes in front of you. Focus on a point on the ground. Maybe watch that big Russian heel, or his hand. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

  “But how will I know who’s coming?”

  “Aaaaah.” Niko’s sister broadened her amused smile into a grand, expectant one. “That’s what your Master is for. He’ll be aware of the people around you, and if you stay in his reach, he’ll control access to you.”

  Vadik nodded. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “I can protect myself.” Her lip curled up into a half-smile. “Even without being able to watch my surroundings.”

  “Of course you can, darling,” Natalja said. “But why would you want to?” She pounded on Vadik’s shoulder. “With a man like this.” She pointed ahead in a sweeping gesture. “Now, lucky for you, there’s a man just up the street who can give us everything we need for the Sasha stand-in. Just follow me, and let’s practice our best Master-slave.”

  He took a few steps and it unnerved him to have Andrea out of his sight. He kept turning back to make sure she was still there. A soldier always had to know his surroundings at all time, and having to turn his head to look at her was going to give him a cramp.

  “Not all Master-slave relationships are the same,” Natalja was saying from beside him. She walked where Andrea should’ve been, just a step in front of him, and to his right. Away from the traffic, and in his vision. He tried to focus on her words to distract himself from thinking. Can’t live on thinking, as Babushka would say.

  “Some are very sexual,” Natalja said, her long hair sweeping behind her in the tight pony tail. “And some are only about control, or power.”

  “How are those different?” Andrea asked and Vadik instinctively turned.

  “You have to stop that,” Natalja said, touching his shoulder. “Don’t turn when she speaks. I know men like this Petrov. He doesn’t care what his slave says.” She pointed in front of them. “Your focus is on your path. She stays behind you. You know she’s there. You don’t need to check on her. You have power over her. She will always be behind you.”

  He rolled one shoulder and took in a deep breath. She’s behind me. She will always be behind me.

  “It is not necessary for Master-slave relationships to be sexual. In fact, it’s not uncommon for their interactions to be without play or without orgasm.”

  With a low breath, Andrea said, “Then they’re not any fun.”

  Natalja shared a smile with Vadik, even though she probably wanted to point out that Andrea shouldn’t be cracking jokes.

  Still, he couldn’t disagree.

  “I’ve done some dabbling, myself.” Vadik settled his eyes on the street corner. “There was a club in Irkutsk where one of my colleagues sometimes went.”

  “So you’ve at least seen it done right.” Natalja waved in one of the big windows they passed. A butcher shop.

  He saw someone behind a counter wave back.

  “I have to ask, since you seem to know everyone,” Andrea said, “Is everyone here… in your pack?”

  “Not everyone.” Natalja waved at a car as they crossed the street and said with a big smile, “But we’re all family, of some kind, even if it’s back in Poland a hundred years ago.”

  “Do they all know what you are? Because I have to say, I’ve never seen anyone shift in front of humans more than your brother.” Sarcasm laced her words, but there was something hidden under that sarcasm.

  Natalja laughed. “That’s Niko for you. Any chance to get naked and show off for the girls.” She pointed up at a big brick building and halted them on the sidewalk. “The guy who owns this place is one. But no, no one outside the pack knows what we are. Still, they’re family.”

  The vertical sign running up the side of the building read Diva Dallas in big, red, block letters on a black background. The curtains were drawn in the rooms above, but there was a big picture window on the first floor. One ornate gold dress hung on a headless mannequin, surrounded by hanging stars.

  “Diva Dallas?” Andrea asked.

  With a smirk, Natalja opened the door. “Come on in, honey. You’re going to love it.”

  Vadik was about to st
ep aside and usher Andrea in to the building when he remembered Niko’s sister warning him, she stays behind you.

  He wasn’t sure a few hours of conditioning would break through his desire to have her in front of him. But he would sure as hell try.

  Chapter Five

  Four hours. Four straight hours of shopping. Vadik was pretty certain that hell would be a nonstop parade of stores and Natalja with a cattle prod, forcing him from one to the next, for eternity. For certain, when Luther had called him about the job, the last place he had expected to be was trying on expensive suits. Or watching a gorgeous woman slither in and out of sexy outfits. Damn.

  He closed his eyes and repeated to himself, it is not necessary to be sexual. Forget all the Babushka stuff, he was going to need a little Natalja in his head if he was going to get through the night alive.

  It is not. Necessary. To be sexual.

  He stepped out of the car and waited on the street, facing the club’s dark brick façade. Let Andrea step out behind you. Don’t look back.

  Not that he needed to see her. The visual of her outfit was etched into his brain and he was fairly certain it would never be erased.

  She had slithered in to a latex bodysuit with an intricate pattern of small half-moon holes, from her ankle to her wrist, and across… holy fuck… every inch of her damn body. From several feet away, it looked like a pattern on the fabric, but from up close, he could see every follicle of her fine, blonde hair.

  Shit. He needed a Siberian Boner Killer.

  When she’d tried it on in the store, he’d had to look away.

  Natalja had promised it wouldn’t be sexual, and then she’d shoved Andrea’s already hot body into all manners of revealing, cleavagey, curve-hugging outfits.

  Your elbow is close, but you can’t bite it, as Babushka would say.

  “Follow.” Natalja waited until the cab door was closed, and she stood beside Vadik in her own cleavagey outfit before she led the way in to The Black Thorn. This was her second home, she’d said.

  They walked in to the pulsing lights and overtly sexual, hazy atmosphere of a dark dance club.