Wildblood

Chapter 34

34

Kai awoke when Miya’s touch danced across his abdomen. She normally wasn’t up before him, and as his eyes fluttered open, he saw the sky barely lit with a cerulean glow. Her lips trailed his collar bone, fingers roaming across his hip, then lower, until she took him in her grasp.

“Good morning,” she whispered when his breath caught.

“You’re… awake .”

She snickered against his chest, slowly working the length of him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He wouldn’t complain about her method of killing time. When he grew restless with her tender strokes, he kicked off his sweatpants, and she slid down his body and replaced her hand with her mouth. Kai thumped his head back, fingers weaving through her hair. He loved the feel of her tongue, the heat of her mouth enveloping him?—

His phone buzzed, jolting him out of the moment. The cursed device was lost in a pocket somewhere. His clothes were still trapped under him after he’d lazily discarded them the night before, and he managed to shift around just enough to fish the damn thing out. He glanced at the screen.

Sergei.

Agitated, he axed the call and tossed the phone aside. Kai refused voicemail service on principle; people could text if they needed to leave a message. Pleased to be rid of the distraction, he swore under his breath when Miya moaned against him, her tongue sweeping along his hard length.

Then, the fucking phone rang again.

Kai gritted his teeth when he saw the irritant had returned like a mosquito in the dead of night. Snarling, he gently pried Miya off him and sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the flimsy mattress, then barked into the receiver, “What the fuck is it?”

“Did I wake you?” came Sergei’s bland response.

Miya raised an eyebrow when she heard who it was, then slipped from the couch and wedged herself between Kai’s legs.

Oh, good. She was on her knees.

Kai narrowed his eyes at her, and she flashed him a wicked smile, her hand gliding up the inside of his thigh before closing around his base.

“I did just wake up,” he said evasively. He squeezed his eyes shut when Miya’s tongue swirled around his tip. Gripping her wavy tresses at the roots, he pushed her head down until she’d taken all of him, her soft whimper sending a satisfying shudder up his spine.

“We need to meet,” Sergei insisted. “Now.”

“Can’t.” The refusal came out strained as Kai fought to control his breathing. His gaze dropped to Miya, her appraising eyes fixed on him. She wasn’t going to stop—and he didn’t want her to.

“Why the hell not?” Sergei demanded, his tone sharpening.

Kai tried to conjure a reply, but he couldn’t concentrate with Miya’s mouth around his cock. He bit back a groan as his focus splintered, his pleasure cresting as she nudged him toward climax.

“Because,” Kai said through a growl, “I’m busy getting my dick sucked.”

He held down the power button until the screen went black.

Miya choked on a laugh—and what was in her mouth. Grinning down at her, Kai rolled his hips forward and cupped the back of her head, moving with her until he tugged on her hair in warning, and she pulled away to watch him come.

Sergei did little to temper his disgust when Kai finally met with him later that morning. The wolf smirked, reassuring Sergei that he’d eaten well for breakfast.

“I don’t understand,” Sergei muttered through a scowl.

“Pussy,” Kai replied flatly. “I ate pussy.”

A flush crawled up the mobster’s neck. “Good for you.”

“It was pretty damn good for both of us, actually?—”

“Shut up,” Sergei snapped. “I’m not here to spar with you about your sex life.”

“You sure?” Kai deadpanned. “You seemed hellbent on cockblocking me.”

The mobster scoffed and jerked his head toward the street. They were loitering in a back lane a few blocks from the Confessional. “Did you find out what Pyotr wants with the kid?”

“He wants to kill her,” said Kai, the playfulness leaving his voice. “Just don’t know why yet. The guys he’s got looking for her are tight-lipped, and their minions don’t know the forgery’s a person.”

Sergei sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t been able to stick my nose in it much. I’m already in shit for losing the forgery. If I start asking questions, Pyotr will suspect I’ve got something to do with it.”

“But you don’t,” Kai countered.

“Maybe not directly, but I know where it— she— is.” He shot Kai a venomous glare. “You’ve both got me by the balls. If Pyotr finds out I’m covering for you, he’ll kill me. But if I tell him where the kid is…”

Kai flashed him a baleful smile. “I’ll rip your kidneys out with my teeth.”

“There’s the threat.” Sergei chuckled. “Neither option sounds terribly pleasant, though I’m cooperating with you because I have no interest in becoming a child murderer. The more information we have about Pyotr’s intentions, the easier it’ll be to untangle ourselves from this mess.”

Easier said than done. Kai had already milked Timur dry, but Bratva was a collection of brainless brutes who followed orders, and only the kingpin knew the ropes. Everyone else had partial information, making it impossible to piece the puzzle together from their garbled clues. “Why not ask Pyotr?”

Sergei blinked at him, stunned. “I don’t know—why not walk into a snake pit barefoot?”

Kai kissed his teeth, irritation lacing his voice. “You got a better idea? He’s obviously good at keeping his secrets, you know, secret .”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sergei grumbled. “He’s… summoned us.”

“No one summons me, asshole.”

“Well, tough shit. Pyotr’s getting impatient, and he’s shaking down anyone involved in this little charade. Last I heard, he butchered every last one of the mercs holding the forgery for the trade.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “Did he think they’d spill about the kid?”

Sergei shook his head. “They accused him of trying to steal the forgery back after losing the fight. No one realized it was you. I guess that got him thinking about me since I arranged said fight.” His eyes swung to Kai. “He wants to meet the man who lost his prize.”

So, that’s why Sergei wanted to meet so urgently. Kai huffed. “Great. Guess I can ask him myself.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Sergei warned. “That’s what got you into this, remember?”

Kai picked at his fingernail, his lip curling into a snarl. “What’s he going to do? Kill me? I’m not a pig for slaughter like those deadbeats from the warehouse.”

Sergei shoved his shoulder. “You don’t know what kind of resources he has or what he’s capable of. You’re not as invincible as you think, Kai ,” he sneered the name as though it were also a forgery—a moniker used as a facile courtesy. “You don’t even know who you are, and all it took was a glimpse at your own shadow to spin you out.”

Rage like a firebrand seared Kai’s insides, and he grabbed Sergei by the throat in a poor attempt to smother the flame, fingers bruising tender flesh as he seethed, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Sergei grasped Kai’s wrist, but he didn’t cower, staring back without an ounce of remorse as he wheezed. For once, he’d told the truth, heedless of the consequences.

He was right. The moment Kai came face to face with Ivan Zverev, he’d unraveled.

“My oba znayem…chto tvoye imya ne Kai ,” Sergei managed to choke out.

We both know your real name isn’t Kai.

His grip on Sergei slackened, the words a fiercer vise. It was true; he couldn’t remember his real name, but there was only one he identified with, and it was the one he’d claimed. The one he’d given Alice when she’d first asked, fitted with the surname she’d bestowed him on his sixteenth birthday.

Kai Donovan.

“When does your boss want to meet?” he asked, suddenly subdued.

Sergei straightened out his collar. “Midnight tonight, at his private club. I’ll text you the address.”

Kai swallowed down the bitter lump lodged in his throat. “Fine.”

With a curt nod, Sergei turned and left Kai to the shadows.

We both know your real name isn’t Kai .

Only it was real. It’d been real for the past twenty years—to Alice, to Miya, and most of all, to him.

Kai Donovan was real. He had to be. Because if he wasn’t, there was nothing left to stitch himself back together with.