And then there was Nix’s voice, sultry as ever. “Personally I think he needs to get laid, but that’s just me. I could be biased.”
So much for staying in the inner bedroom.
Nix was…human-appearing now. Like Kai. Except Nix didn’t look like a brute in his human form. He looked like sin incarnate. And he was wearing sunglasses indoors, for some reason.
Kai growled at his appearance. “Incubus.”
Ivan was distracted, not at all himself, as Kai and Nix bickered (apparently the demons knew each other), Sascha wide-eyed and flustered by Nix, mentioning something about a bond.
All of it was white noise until Ivan saw Kai’s hand around Nix’s throat.
Rage, swift and sure, had him rising to his feet and snapping out, “Get your hands off my demon.”
Just becausehewanted to wring Nix’s neck didn’t mean anyone else was allowed to.
But apparently Nix didn’t need his protection. He slid out of Kai’s hold like nothing but his own will had kept him there in the first place. And then Sascha was suggesting privacy, and Nix and Kai were heading to the inner office, Nix agreeable to Sascha’s request in a way he had yet to be with Ivan.
Leaving Ivan with Sascha.
“You know I love you, right?”
Ivan clenched his jaw, taking his eyes off the door to the room Nix had disappeared into.
Of course that was the first thing Sascha told Ivan. Of course he thought the emotion behind it all would trump the rest. That love would fix what was broken.
Love is a weakness, his father’s voice taunted.And you know what happens to weak men?
It wasn’t Sascha’s fault, exactly. Their father had raised him differently—the pampered baby, exempt from the life that ruled the rest of them. It was something Ivan still didn’t understand, with his father’s disdain of softer emotions. But maybe in the end he was nothing more than a hypocrite. Maybe he really had loved Sascha more than his two older sons, had wanted something better for him than the painful, jagged lessons in brutality he’d given them all their lives.
“It’s okay if you can’t say it back,” Sascha told him with a sad smile. “But I didn’t summon Kai to hurt you.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why did you steal the Book and summon your own demon ten seconds after discovering him?”
Why did Ivan even need to explain this? “I have a mole in myorganization,” he said evenly. “A mob war on the horizon, a loose cannon of a middle brother, and an oblivious younger one.”
Did that make it clear enough?
But Sascha focused on the wrong words, as usual. “I’m not oblivious,” he argued. Ivan gave him a pointed look, and Sascha conceded, “Okay, sometimes. But that’s the way you and Papa molded me. I have a business degree, you know. I could be an asset, if you’d let me.”
Except Sascha still didn’t get thepoint. Whether the summoning was intentional or not, Sascha had kept it from Ivan. Even knowing there were men after their family, men who had ordered Sascha stabbed and would no doubt like to do worse.
It was just another reminder Ivan was doing it all alone.
And yet Sascha claimed he wasn’t oblivious? That he could handle being an asset to Ivan’s business? That suddenly—out of nowhere—he wanted to be useful?
Sascha let out a big sigh, like Ivan was the problem. “I know our family messed you up. Papa…being Papa. Mom leaving.”
Ivan looked away. He knew better than to touch that lie. He knew what it would do to Sascha. And still he found himself saying, “Our mother didn’t leave.” He couldn’t help but laugh at Sascha’s clueless expression. “I thought Alexei would have told you by now,” Ivan said bitterly. Those two had always been thick as thieves, hadn’t they? “Our mother didn’t leave,” he said again. “Our father had her killed.”
Sascha’s continued confusion only stoked Ivan’s sudden rage. Had Alexei really not known? Had their father kept him in the dark?
Why had Ivan been the only one to bear this fucking burden?
Why was it always only him?
“She intended to leave,” Ivan explained coolly, keeping his anger contained, letting it burn at his insides rather than show on his face. “She was going to take you and Alexei with her.” Anotherbitter laugh escaped him. “Not me. I suppose she thought at eleven years old, I was already a lost cause. And while our father might have been willing to lethergo, he wasn’t willing to lose his sons. He ordered a hit.”
