This is the first chapter of the book that my six sentence Sunday excerpt is from. It's around 75% complete, then time for endless rounds of self-editing. Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 1
1870- Kazan, Russia
The cold wind stung Natalia's face and her long ash grey skirt snapped against her legs. The embroidered headband kept the cream veil in place, but it whipped about in the wind and momentarily obscured her vision of the slums of Kazan. Shame and fury kept her warm despite the cold blast of air blowing off the Volga River in the distance.
She held the scarf back in place and darted a glance around to see if anyone had noticed her exposed black braid. Regardless of the fact that she was about to enter a gambling den that no good woman would set foot in, she still considered herself a respectable woman who kept her hair covered in public. She was cursed with a father who did dishonorable things.
Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she held the veil in place and took a hesitant step towards the muddy wooden boards leading to the sidewalk. Further down the street, whores loitered in the open doorways of their cribs, but they had enough common sense to avoid this particular building.
She tried to summon her courage and sucked in a cold breath that chilled her teeth. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stood before the door of the second gambling den in Kazan that she had to search. The windows on the first floor had been long ago sealed over, as were most main floor windows on this street. It deterred against theft and kept the actions of those inside secret.
The embroidered leather of her black boots protected her feet from the spring mud that surrounded the wooden boards leading to the entrance. Sweet tobacco smoke and harsh male laughter grew stronger as she stood before the door.
She hated this, hated having to endure the lecherous looks of the men inside, hated having to beg her father to come home, and hated being alone in the ghetto of Kazan. A quick stroke over the hunting knife hidden in her pocket gave her an extra measure of confidence.
She shoved the heavy door open and the bouncer gave a tired sigh at the site of her.
Trying to ignore him, she searched the smoke filled room for the familiar curve of her father's green felt hat. No site of him at the main floor card tables. Panic made her palms sweat and her stomach churn. Maybe he was upstairs at the expensive tables. Had he found the small stash of money from her tutoring hidden in the chicken coup?
"He's not here, Natalia." The bouncer had a scar running across his forehead and arms bigger than her waist. He shifted his bulk to block her view of the tables and she crossed her arms.
"Well then, you won't mind if I have a look around, will you?" She narrowed her cobalt blue eyes at him. Tall for a woman, she still had to look up to meet his gaze. She must check if he was upstairs. Her tutoring money had to go to the landlord to pay for the rent of their farm.
"I can't let you in. You are not the kind of woman my boss wants walking the floor."
She sniffed and gave a disdainful glance at one of the young girls serving the patrons liquor. Her blond hair hung long and loose about her shoulders and the top of her red embroidered dress hung unlaced a bit to show a square of pale flesh.
The sound of glass breaking jerked the bouncers head away with a sigh. Two men began to fight in the back of the room and a table full of cards and coins tipped onto the floor. Some of the patrons scooped up their earnings and moved away, while others cheered on the combatants. The bouncer muttered an oath that made her ears ring and waded through the crowd of drunken men and into the fray.
Wiping her sweaty hands on her cotton skirt, she inched along the wall and made her way to the stairs. Just a quick peek at the tables and she could be gone from this place.
A dirty hand grabbed her wrist as she tried to pass along unnoticed. The hand belonged to an older man with a filthy grey shirt and a mustard yellow conical hat. What few teeth he had were blackened with rot and his breath stunk as he grabbed her close.
"What are you doing here, pretty girl?" he slurred as he tried to pull her onto his lap. His lust vibrated off her body and stirred the darkness of her soul. Energy, sweet and pure rushed through her body and her lip curled back in disgust at the site of his dirty nails digging into the pale skin of her arm.
She backhanded him and he lost his hold on her wrist as he fell from his chair in shock.
Her brother, Maxim, had taught her how to defend herself and years of working on the farm had given her the strength to back up her fist. After she had begun to develop into a woman, learning how to protect herself against unwanted advances became essential. Especially when her father was never around to keep her safe and her brother entered the military.
His friend with a greasy brown beard began to laugh and shoved away from the table. He hitched up his belt over his tunic and began to stalk towards her with an arrogant swagger. "Don't be so angry. We just want to see what color your hair is-between your legs."
Loathing, fear, and panic made her stomach sour and filled her mouth with bile. The bouncers had their hands full hauling the bloody combatants out the door and breaking up the fights on the other side of the room. The bearded man came closer and the ripe stink of his unwashed body added to her disgust. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she gripped the wooden hilt of the hunting knife, using her thumb to ease the blade from the sheath.
With one hand rubbing his red cheek, the man with the bad teeth spat some blood on the floor. "Nice big breasts and hips for a stupid peasant girl. I'll enjoy teaching you not to hit a man."
He lunged at her and she grabbed his arm, slamming him against the dark stained wood wall with enough force to rattle the boards. Elation filled her at the site of his face bouncing off the wood. She bared her teeth in a snarl and curled her hands into fists. It would feel so good to hit him, to feel the skin giving way like an over ripe plum and spilling his blood onto her fists.
The thought of his blood, thick and hot, spilling onto the sawdust of the floor made her instincts rejoice. He must pay for thinking he could touch her.
"Enough!" a deep voice roared from the top of the stairs. A man with hair the color of fire and wearing a long black jacket and pants embroidered with gold thread stood surrounded by more bouncers. His dark eyes focused on her and he gestured to the men who surged into the suddenly silent crowd. Tall, with broad shoulders and a lean waist, his lips narrowed into an angry line as he strode down the stairs towards her.
Her two attackers shrank back as he approached and his dark brown eyes locked onto hers.
Without a change in expression, he slapped her hard across the face. She gasped as unwanted pleasure flushed through her. When she entered womanhood, something had happened to her body to distort pain into pleasure. The reaction shamed and embarrassed her. She felt like perversion of nature and avoided all men to the point where her mother was asking if she was going to join a convent.
As the pain settled between her legs in a sweet ache, the humiliation and anger twisted her mind into a savage rage. It felt so right, so good to let that anger wash through her. It swept away the part of her mind that shrank from the violence of this place and fed the cold burn in her soul that rejoiced in the aggression and lust.
Rational thought was no longer an option as she struck back, jerking the knife from her pocket and grabbing the man in a headlock in the smooth motion she had practiced with her brother a hundred times behind their barn. Unfortunately, his advice of not using this move unless you meant to kill your opponent didn't surface in her mind until she had the blade jammed into his muscled neck.
She pressed the cutting edge deep enough into his skin to draw a thin river of blood that soaked into the high collar of his jacket. Deadly silence settled over the room as the collective shock and fear of the crowd made the hair on her arms stand up. A rill of desire moved through her and increased as the man in her arms went passive. Submissive, he relaxed against her and she could taste the delicious scent of his blood on her tongue.
The bouncer from the door dropped the man he had been beating and started to make his way towards them along with the rest of the professional muscle. They circled her like a pack of angry wolves as she bled their leader.
"Tell your men to back off," she whispered into his ear, her voice husky with passion and anger. His cologne, a combination of dark spice and sandalwood, made her libido purr. He stayed still against her, a solid wall of muscle, but held up a hand to the men. They froze and watched her with glittering eyes.
He started to press back into her and she dug the knife in deeper. He shuddered a little against her grip but did not try to pull away.
"What is your name?" he asked in a low voice.
"My name is none of your business. Tell your men to back off and I will leave you with your life."
He actually laughed as his blood smeared across the side of his neck. The fine red hair on the back of his head tickled her arm as he replied, "Tell me your name, and I will let you live."
"No. You have five seconds before I slice your throat," the words came out in a low growl as she tried to cover the tremble in her voice. The more he relaxed, the more the darkness in her soul relaxed in turn and her rational mind began to slowly regain control.
He chuckled and she wondered about his mental state. "Let her through. She is under my protection."
She pulled the knife out of his throat, but kept it pressed lightly against the skin. Blood ran down the blade and wet her hand. She fought off the urge to lick it from her fingers. It was the blood of her enemy and it had the appeal of a glass of the best wine in the world. This unnatural thought startled her out of the cold anger and hot lust for a moment and her grip faltered. What was wrong with her?
His men stared at him in shock, but backed away from the door. The adrenaline rush faded and fear filled the void.
"I don't want the protection of a man like you," she spat out and began to pull him towards the doorway. No one tried to stop her and she struggled to edge the door open with the tip of her boot. The lust tried to rush back in as he trembled against her. She knew it was not fear that was making him quake, but desire that felt like the stroke of rabbit fur against her skin. The sensation scared her and pushed the desire back, clearing her head.
"Let me get the door for you. On my honor, I, Gregor Trezent, will let you leave my establishment unmolested." He waited, still against her but stiff with tension. He moved his shoulders slightly to look back at her and his jacket rubbed over her stiff nipples. She sucked in a breath through her nose as the throbbing in her cheek continued to send little bursts of pleasure through her body.
Disgusted with herself and this place, she released him and darted for the door. He blocked the way with his arm and said, "Allow me." He opened the door with a small bow and reached out, straightening the cloth of her veil so it lay properly over her back.
She gave him one last glare and ran out into the street. Sanity filled her mind with a sharp clarity as she bolted away from the gambling den. What had happened in there? She had never reacted like that before, if the desire had not stayed her hand, she would have happily slaughtered everyone in that room. Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized the insanity she had been battling for the last few months was gaining strength. Tears streaked down her cheek in icy tracks and she wondered how long she had before she lost her mind completely.
The thieves and prostitutes that lived in this section of the city gave her wide berth as she sprinted past them with the bloody knife clutched in her hand. Tormented by the ache between her legs and the memory of Gregor's dark eyes she worried that she had just signed her death warrant.
~~*~~
Gregor rubbed his lips and shifted as his hard cock demanded attention. He had to find out who she was. A woman that beautiful, and bold enough to attack a mafia lord in his own den, was a gift beyond anything he had ever imagined. When she had looked at him, her sapphire eyes had shimmered with hints of emerald and silver in the light of the gas lamps. He had never seen anything like it.
He motioned to his lieutenant and climbed the carved stairs to his office behind the VIP tables. "Who is that girl?" Her memory haunted him already and the urge to possess her took root in his soul. He would do anything to have her.
"Do you want me to kill her?" Filip asked and shut the heavy wood door. The room was done in shades of green with dark brown leather furniture. In a marked contrast to the dingy bar outside, this room was clean and opulent. A large glass cabinet held a collection of expensive liquor and crystal glasses. Next to the liquor was a large ball of black opium, ready to be cut up and shipped off to Moscow.
Gregor gazed out the window and tried to catch a glimpse of the woman's cream veil. She was stunning, tall with the most impressive breasts he had ever seen. The tree of life embroidery on her headdress indicated she was unmarried and the worn condition of her clothing marked her as a peasant. How a woman as beautiful as that managed to remain unmatched was a miracle.
Her dominant spirit made his body clench with desire, almost as much as the pain of her digging the knife into his neck. When he felt the stinging kiss of the blade, his cock had instantly stood at attention. Her voice only stoked that want. Never had he heard its like. Rough honey and smooth velvet, it rubbed over his body like a caress as she whispered words of death into his ear.
"Gregor?" Filip asked again.
"No, do not touch her. She is under my protection. I want you to spread the word. If anyone harms her, they will answer to me and I will cut their cock off and they can die choking on it."
Filip's dark brows rose in surprise. "As you wish."
He relaxed back into the dark leather couch that rested against the wall between two small tables holding brass oil lamps. "Find out who she is and why she was here. I want to know everything about her."
Filip nodded and began to open the door as a knock sounded on the other side.
One of the bouncers from downstairs came in and hooked his thumbs in the wide leather belt encircling his thick waist. "Sir, if I may have a moment of your time. It's about the girl downstairs."
Gregor pressed a handkerchief against the still seeping cut. That hellcat could have slit his throat if she had pressed a little harder. The thought excited him and made him impatient. "What is it?"
"I- I would ask for your mercy on her. I know her family. They would be devastated if they lost her so soon after the death of their son. I'm sure she will never come here again." The man grew pale as Gregor remained silent. "Please forgive me. I did not mean to overstep my bounds." The huge man trembled with fear as Gregor smiled at him.
"You know her?"
He nodded and swallowed.
"Tell me about her." Gregor found himself fascinated for the smallest detail of information about her. It surprised him how quickly she took control of his life, and the thought of her taking equal control of his body made him shudder.
"Her name is Natalia Shura. Her family rents a small farm on the edge of town. Maxim, her older brother, died last year from a fever while serving in the military." He hesitated and said, "After her brother's death, her father turned to gambling. That's why she was here. She was looking for her father."
The sunlight began to dip behind the building across the street as Gregor turned over the information in his mind. He wanted to win her over, have her come to him willingly. He was very good at charming people. It was part of the reason he rose so quickly in the ranks of the mafia. That and the fact he could kill anyone without remorse.
"Does her father gamble here?"
"Yes, when he has the money. He used to be a carpenter, but I haven't seen him selling his goods at the market in a long time."
"Thank you, you may go. Natalia," he relished the way her name rolled over his tongue, "will not be harmed."
Filip moved aside and the he big man smiled and ducked his head in thanks as he lumbered out the door.
Gregor shifted on the couch and his cock continued to throb and demand attention. "Tell that slut Saria to come up here." Usually he chose the blond Anechka, but the memory of striking sapphire eyes beneath black brows as delicately arched as a willow leaf fueled his desire tonight. "And spread the word that Natalia Shura is off limits. She is mine."
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