Twisted Throne (Bratva Born #2)

9. Adriana

Adriana

The thought that I will soon be free of Barnaby’s malign presence has my heart singing. I truly feel like a bird in a cage that's about to be set free. But then Dimitri's last words to me come back, front and center of my mind. He said I would soon be back where I belonged. I have to assume that he means with him . Yet, he said before that Cade can't be a part of that. It means I don't have a future with Dimitri, which makes me sad. I yearn for a future with him, or at least more time to explore the chemistry between us, and yet, deep down I wonder if he's just as bad as Barnaby. Will he save me only to make me his captive once more?

Will he set me free from this cage of depravity, only to trap me anew in a gilded cage of his own making? Yes, I could be happy with Dimitri, but he’s so pig headed. The fact that he won't entertain having my stepbrother living with us, and yet seems to blithely assume that I am his means I can't imagine a happy ever after for us as things stand. He might be right that the authorities will want to rehome Cade themselves, and that Cade’s grandparents might wish to keep him with them. That’s all well and good, but if neither of those things happen, I can’t stand by and see him go into the system. I could never live with myself. The fact Dimitri doesn’t seem to understand as much drives me crazy.

Still, he's most definitely the lesser of two evils. Well, maybe not, because he’s a devil for sure, but a damn sexy one, and he hates Barnaby and will probably kill him for merely looking at me, never mind taking me. That makes him my greatest ally.

My enemy’s enemy and all that. I also can't lie to myself about the reaction my body has to him. The moment I heard his deep, soothing voice, my core clenched. That gorgeous scent that he wears had washed over me at the bar and made me sway on my feet. The man is utterly gorgeous and a commanding presence. He makes my heart pick up speed and my body yearn for things it is only just beginning to understand.

The evening will be drawing to a close soon, and my freedom from at least one cage beckons.

Barnaby guides me toward the back of the room, his palm on my lower spine. It leaves icy cold tingles wherever he touches, and I want to push it off me and tell him never to touch me again. Instead, I do as Dimitri says. I keep myself calm and act as if there is nothing untoward.

As we draw toward the rear of the room, I notice Dimitri talking with a small group of men. My eyes sweep over them, and I guess that they’re all of a similar age. They appear to be in their thirties, early forties at the most, and two of them are incredibly broad built. As we near, one of them turns to look right at me. His hair is dark, his mask too, but his eyes shine out of the contours of his mask, preternatural in their color. They remind me of the moon on a cool winter’s night. Those eyes are gray and silver, and they shine like the dancing lights thrown by the chandeliers.

He is how I imagine a wolf shifter would look in human form. A shiver rolls down my spine as he holds my gaze for a long beat and then let's his ghostly stare slip from me to take in Barnaby behind me. As he does so, those eyes of his harden into ice chips. They hold a look of utter loathing, and I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end of such disdain from a man like him.

These men with Dimitri are dangerous. I can tell by simply looking at them, even with their faces covered as they are in carnival masks. Barnaby has opened Pandora's box by taking me. I think about how Sian would feel if something terrible were to befall him. It shocks me to realize that I don't feel empathy for her, or pity. Instead, there's a hollow hole where I think my heart used to be. I wasn't born like this. I've always felt too much. Raw on the outside; my skin like a graze across my entire body. Life itself can be so painful it feels like an open wound. Now, much of the time, all I feel is a dark hollow.

I never thought I would miss the pain of that wound, but I do. This dark, muffled nothingness is dragging me under the flow and threatening to drown me in its murky depths.

What I wouldn’t give to wallow in the burn of true, heightened emotions again. Maybe a burning rage, or perhaps, an icy coolness that would lend me strength. Instead, I have to live with this new but insistent dark void within me.

Life just took one too many things from me, and now there's a cavern where used to be my soul.

Perhaps I'm a perfect match for Dimitri after all. We can be two soulless people forging a path together.

Then I think of Cade, and I know I can't do that unless he’s safe.

I also know that the void within me is a lie.

It’s there for now, empty, hollow, but when I saw Dimitri, the void was filled with flame and desire. And when I see Cade again, it will fill once more with life, love, and all the things that beat within us.

Maybe right now the void is my friend. Perhaps the nothingness is what is keeping me sane and strong through all the mayhem. Maybe the rage that I wish to feel would send me right over the edge. This empty ache is kind of soothing in its own nihilistic way. After all, if you can't feel, you can't hurt.

The man who spoke to Barnaby earlier, Sasha I think his name is, approaches us again. “Are you ready to leave for the party?” he asks. By his side is a tall, slender woman with the grace of a dancer and shiny hair. Her mask is striking, and for the first time this evening I find myself wishing that I could see someone's face, other than Dimitri’s. It would be nice just to be able to make small talk with someone else. Small talk is hard when you can't see someone's features.

“Yes, we’re all ready, aren't we, my precious angel?” Barnaby’s sickly way of addressing me sets my teeth on edge.

“I think you will rather like the special display, which will be put on after the main lesson. It's all about taking pain to that very edge of their ability.” Sasha’s hand smooths down the woman’s hair, and she gazes up at him adoringly.

My stomach twists at Sasha's words. Maybe he's just as sick as Barnaby. I had thought that he was with Dimitri and the other man, because I saw them chatting for a while, but now I'm not so sure. If he is so friendly with Barnaby, and likes intense pain play, then maybe he's one of the bad guys.

Sasha leads the way out of the room, and Barnaby follows him, with me and the woman with Sasha behind them, and Tom and Adam, both in masks, bringing up the rear.

“Have you been to one of these events before?” I ask her.

“We have been to Miss May’s club once or twice,” she says.

“Miss May?”

“Yes, that's the lady who runs the establishment. She's really nice, and a friend of Sasha's. She helped save me.”

“Save you?

“I got myself into a spot of bother, and Miss May helped me out of it.”

Maybe she will do the same for me. I send a prayer up to all the gods, especially Freya, the goddess who I often pray to. I hope she is watching over me. Please let this be my chance to escape, I beg of her. Help me be free.

We leave Club V and walk down the stairs of the front of the building, and as we reach the bottom step, a limousine glides into place at the curb, as if the driver is a mind reader. A man in a formal suit steps forward and holds the door open for us.

“Will you ride with me and my wife?” Sasha asks. “I think we might have some business interests that align, and perhaps a closer relationship would be to our benefit.”

Barnaby smiles and nods. “Of course, but what about my friends here?” He waves at Tom and Adam.

“They can ride with us; there is room,” Sasha says smoothly.

“Good, but give me a moment.” Barnaby waves again, and two large men, whom I recognize from the estate, step forward. “Follow us,” Barnaby orders.

“Sir,” one replies with a nod.

Of course he’d make sure he had extra security with him. So that is four men, and the third he had with Tom and Adam at the start of the night. I don’t know where that man has gone.

Sasha Volkov doesn’t seem to have brought any security, which seems odd.

The door is still held wide, and we climb in. I'm sitting facing Sasha, his wife next to him, and Barnaby next to me. At the side of us are Tom and Adam.

Barnaby smiles at me as if this is a normal night, and we’re a normal, happy couple out on a date. He places a heavy hand on my thigh and squeezes tight. I notice the ring on his finger. I’d seen it earlier but now, up close, it looks like it cost a small fortune. I reach out to touch it.

“You like that?” he asks.

“It’s lovely,” I say absently. The lie trips off my tongue easily.

I think it is vulgar, but I won’t say that as I don’t want to piss him off. If I’m about to be rescued, I don’t want to do anything to fuck that up.

“It's been in my family for over five hundred years,” Barnaby says.

I stare at the ring almost unable to take that in. The idea that something as small as a piece of jewelry has been passed down from generation to generation for over five hundred years is mind blowing to me. I barely have anything of my own mum’s, never mind people from centuries ago within my bloodline. It must be nice to be anchored to a lineage and a past that way.

I've always been fascinated by the ancestors and the practice of talking to them, praying to them, and letting them influence your life. Perhaps it's because my family is so small that I have to fill it with the many deceased past members.

I think it's more than that, though. My belief is that all of those who made us, and all those dead ghosts who preceded us through the years are by our side. In essence, we have a kin army traveling with us always. If we let ourselves think of them and their strengths, the things they went through and the things they learned, all passed down through their genes to ours, then we're never alone. Our ancestors are always with us if we want to believe so.

I do want to believe so, because I need all the strength that I can get.

The car glides through the dark streets of London as I send up silent prayers to my ancestors to give me strength and wisdom. I stare out of the window at the buildings and wonder if these streets were ever paved with gold the way the tales say.

Did Dick Whittington find what he wanted here? I can't really remember his story, but I know it involved a cat. We pass famous landmarks and instead of excitement, I feel an increasing sense of dark anticipation of what is ahead. Finally, after what seems like forever but is probably only around twenty minutes, the car pulls into a parking space.

It is behind a club, and this one is an entirely different kind of club to that run by Nikolai Volkov. This place has a neon light outback, the parking lot is empty, and as we climb out of the car, there’s an air of danger and somehow despair.

Some of the older sodium lights dot the streets around us, and the orange glow they throw makes everything seem dingy and forlorn.

The scent of yeast or maybe hops fills my nostrils, and I turn around to see a building at the far end of the road which has a glowing neon sign stating it is the Iskadar Brewery. The hoppy scent is chased by cheap perfume as air blows out of the vents of the club we’re about to enter.

We enter into a seedy area, and my stomach drops. Ugh, this is awful. It makes me think of a cheap brothel. A curtain sweeps back, and a tall, incredibly striking woman smiles at us.

A huge, stern man next to her snaps rudely, “Names.”

I can feel Barnaby bristle next to me. I expect he rarely gets spoken to in such a way.

He reels off the names of our party, and the door opens again as Sasha joins us with his wife and Nikolai Volkov, alone.

“Ah, Sasha,” the woman says.

“Miss May.” He gives her a smile, but to my surprise, his wife runs over to Miss May and throws her arms around her.

Miss May hugs her back, a warm smile on her face. “How are you, Leah?” Miss May asks. “Is this reprobate treating you right?”

“He’s the best,” Leah says dreamily.

I glance at her husband. Sasha Volkov is a handsome man. Perhaps not as immediately striking as Nikolai, but he has eyes you could drown in. They are sad somehow, and so pretty they should be illegal on a man.

“Come this way,” Miss May says. “I think you’ll enjoy this evening very much.”

A delighted chuckle rumbles in Barnaby’s chest, and I suppress a shudder.

We walk through the curtains, and instead of the cheap reception I expect, there’s an opulent hallway, full of deep burgundy tones, with modern artworks on the walls that look like originals because they are on canvas.

Miss May is so sexy but in a powerful way that I wish I could hold. What must it be like to be a woman and so grounded in your strength and power? Her ass swings as she walks in front of us. She’s wearing shiny black shorts, with fancy patterned tights underneath, and her boots are so high as to be scary. They look like a weapon. Her jewelry does too. All silver spikes and thick black leather.

Her pony tail swishes as she walks.

“This is going to be a pain display, yes?” Barnaby asks. “With some new toys you’ve discovered?”

“Yes, we’ve been wanting to do something like this for quite a while. We’re moving more into servicing couples, not just individuals.” She glances behind her and smiles vaguely at Barnaby.

“Obviously,” she adds with what seems to me to be heavy emphasis, “we need consent from both parties. Enthusiastically so.”

“Of course,” Barnaby says smoothly as if he always gets consent.

As if he’s not a woman stealing piece of shit.

We turn to the right and walk to a beaded curtain at the far end of the corridor. There’s a thwack and a yelp from one of the rooms we pass, and I automatically jump.

“So skittish, my love,” Barnaby says fondly. His arm snakes around my waist and squeezes gently, as if we really are a couple in love.

When we pass through the curtain, we turn right and into a large space. It is full of people, some men alone, a few women but not as many as the men, and then a dozen or so couples.

There are various men sitting around the room in darkened corners, and I search their faces. I can’t see Dimitri, and I start to panic. In a dim corner there is a big guy with rings on his fingers. There’s the man with the ghostly eyes too.

Sasha and Nikolai, of course. And a few other men who seem large and scary dot the room, but no Dimitri. Still, these men are with him, and as such that helps calm my fears.

I glance at Barnaby, wondering if he’s clocked the men standing in the darkened corners, but his gaze is transfixed at the front of the room. A woman is bound on a X shaped cross, and she has a clamp attached to her nipples, which aren’t covered at all.

Oh God, this is so weird. My face burns. I’ve read about stuff like this, but being here with Barnaby is just a mindfuck.

Implements of what look like torture to me are laid out on the bench and another woman, this one also dressed like Miss May, is sorting through them.

The action begins, and it’s kind of boring. I zone out as the woman is whipped, flogged, massaged, tickled with a feather and all sorts of stuff. Barnaby’s breathing, however, grows heavier, and the room grows warm. I glance around and see a large portion of the men watching with predatory, hungry gazes. The tension in the air is palpable. My gaze skitters over the man with the ghostly eyes, but he’s not watching the action at all. He’s watching us , Barnaby most of all.

The show finally ends, and the room begins to empty out. “Would you like to see the special display now?” Miss May asks. There are just two couples left, a lone man, and the rest of the people are all those who I recognize from the party. Barnaby, his men, Sasha and Leah, Nikolai Volkov, and the gray-eyed man, and the giant.

Barnaby nods. “I hope it’s a bit more interesting than this,” he says. “I hardly saw anything new.”

Miss May merely smiles at his rudeness, and I decide there and then that I don’t like him at all. Not merely for the fact that he took me, but he’s an asshole. A rude, over privileged fucker.

I wish I’d seen that sooner when I had come to stay with Sian and him, but I guess I was blinded by his jovial air and his eccentric British ways. Now I’ve seen him interact with people he deems lesser than himself, and he’s a total dick. Especially to women.

We head out of this room, down another corridor in this warren of depravity, and finally through a heavy metal door.

Inside it is like a scene from De Sade’s writings. People are suspended from the ceiling, strapped to various contraptions, or tied to crosses, or hanging over benches. Some are being flogged but some are being fucked, including one man who is bent over and being penetrated orally and anally by a machine.

The air stinks of sex. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Moans and groans fill the room, and it all leaves me utterly cold. It’s too performative for it to have any effect on me. Everything is choreographed and planned out, and I realize that I might have an open mind, but this kind of thing isn’t for me. I guess my own kink is to be chased, the way Dimitri and I discussed all those days ago on the yacht. Primal play he called it. I’d definitely rather be chased through the woods by Dimitri than strapped to an X and whipped.

There is a weird ass chair in one corner, and Miss May touches Barnaby’s wrist lightly. “That is the chair of a king. I won’t say which one, propriety and all of that. However, he had this made so he could have sex with multiple partners and so he could tie them up too. It’s hundreds of years old.”

“It’s a great replica,” Leah says.

“Oh, it’s not a replica—it’s the real thing. The original. Cost a fortune at auction. There is a later one another king allegedly had made, and that one is much more popular, but this one suited my needs more. See the shackles? You can tie people up and do as you will with them. And all the while be sitting, literally, on the seat of ancient royalty.”

Barnaby moves toward the chair, and I try to ignore the sounds and scents of sex in the air.

He touches it and breathes out reverentially. “I had heard rumors of this, but no one knew if it existed. Yet, here it is. Can I play with my angel here on it?”

He turns and indicates me with a flick of his fingers.

“Of course,” Miss May says. “We will have the display first, and then perhaps you can have a go on this.”

“No. I want to try it now,” Barnaby says. “She’s happy to do it, aren’t you?” He stares at me, and there is violence in his gaze.

Where the hell is Dimitri?

“Oh, no. I’m afraid I must stick to the schedule,” Miss May says, and for the first time I see a small crack in her steely calm.

“Yes, do stick to the schedule. I would hate for the plans to be changed.”

The deep but quietly spoken words come from behind us, and I turn around to see the gray eyed man leaning against the wall.

More footsteps sound, and I turn automatically. Alexis steps into the room. He smirks at the gray eyed man, and says something to him in what sounds like Russian. He calls him Andrius and I file it away. Andrius replies also in Russian, and then Nikolai joins in.

“I thought you were from somewhere in Eastern Europe?” Barnaby asks Nikolai, again that haughty tone on display.

“I am, but I speak Russian.”

Barnaby’s face begins to change. He looks around the room. “Where are all the couples?”

“As I said, this is an exclusive little addition to the entertainment,” Miss May says smoothly.

Barnaby’s jaw tightens. “With just me, my men, and a handful of Russians? Seems fucking fishy.”

“I’m Ukrainian,” Andrius says.

“And yet, you are all speaking Russian, which is rather rude in the presence of English speakers. Perhaps we can all speak in the same tongue?” Barnaby offers a slimy smile, full of self-importance.

Andrius says something.

“What was that?” Barnaby asks.

“I was just saying that these arrogant colonial attitudes are still to be found when you scratch the surface of the British aristocracy.”

Barnaby glances behind him at his two men, and they shift their weight from foot to foot. The air in the room has changed, and violence has joined the sex at the party.

“Gentlemen, may I please remind you that I will have no violence in my establishment,” Miss May says. “In fact, I’m letting my performers finish for now.”

She claps her hands, and the man on the fucking machine disentangles himself with a grunt. When he turns around, his cock is hard and straining, shiny at the tip. A woman who was draped over a bench wearing the kind of long skirts seen in period dramas, stands, and I’m shocked when a man who can’t be much more than five-foot-four stands from where he was hidden underneath her voluminous skirts. Two ladies walk up to a woman on an X cross and start to unfasten her, but Barnaby claps his hands, the sound ringing in the room as sharp as the whips of earlier. “No, leave her up there.” He flicks his fingers. “Be gone.”

The women glance at May who gives a subtle nod, so they scuttle out of the room by a back exit, slipping behind a curtain. A man enters from where they left and stands, his arms crossed at the front. He’s big. Intimidating.

“This is my bouncer,” Miss May says. “One of them. I won’t have my entertainers being told what to do.” She fixes Barnaby with a steely glare and boy, she’s not remotely scared.

“Time to go; this party has suddenly become incredibly lame,” Barnaby scoffs.

He grabs me by the wrist and leads me toward the entrance, but Dimitri steps into the room and stands arms crossed as he stares Barnaby down.

My heart flips, but Dimitri doesn’t even glance at me.

Instead, he keeps his gaze on Barnaby, his lip curling in rage.

“You have something of mine,” he says, and the quiet control of it is what holds the terror. “And I want it back.”