Page 43 of Feral King

Well, then, this means war, brother.

The words echo in my mind, and I find myself wondering just how far he’ll go. Does power mean that much to him? What would he do in order to be the man on top?

I suppose I’m about to find out.

I pick up the glass—it’s good scotch—too good to waste.I toss it back. Then, I set down the glass and take out my phone to dial Ethan.

“What’s up?” he asks, answering on the second ring.

“Is Lyra’s security doubled?”

“It is. I can assign more men if you like.”

“Not just yet. Pass a message down the line—war is on the horizon.”

“Meeting didn’t go so well?”

“It went exactly the way I expected.”

The call ends.

I stand and button my coat.

Alexander is in for a world of hurt.

CHAPTER 15

LYRA

The next week flies by.

Julian’s been out of the picture for the most part, busy with corporate and Bratva business, leaving me to work on my own. Any contact with Julian is routed through Anya, per his request. Work updates come through email, signatures are done electronically, and I’ve got leeway to make whatever decisions I need.

But I miss his presence, his voice, his gaze. It seems like every time I close my eyes, I’m back to that night at my place, his powerful body on top of mine, his cock buried deep inside me.

It’s torture, but it’s necessary. I need to work, and so does he. And distance from each other isn’t a bad idea. Without it, things could get too… messy.

I’m at the Irina Volkov Foundation’s offices on the Upper East Side, sitting across a mahogany table from a woman who makes me feel like I’m being grilled by the Russian aristocracy.

Elena Volkov is Irina’s younger sister, Julian’s aunt. She’s seventy-one, silver-haired, dressed in a charcoal-gray Chanel suit, with a single strand of pearls around her slender neck, and a ramrod straight posture.

She drinks her tea black with a slice of lemon and has a stare that could turn an intern to stone on the spot. Her features were likely beautiful when she was younger but have since evolved into something more regal: high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, and those same gunmetal -ray eyes as Julian’s.

She’s also, to my surprise, really funny.

“Irina would’ve liked you,” she says, flipping through the guest list I’ve prepared. “She had no patience for timid women. She used to say timid women made timid choices, and timid choices result in timid events. And nobody likes a timid event.”

“Timid events mean timid donations,” I add.

She arches a brow. “Indeed.”

Elena flips another page, quietly reading the information. Then she smiles, shaking her head.

“I do think that Elena and I would’ve gotten along,” I say. “Most of all because she took the time and effort to set up a charity like this.”

Irina nods. “You would’ve fought constantly and respected each other enormously. That’s how Irina operated. If she liked you and saw talent in you, she pushed you. I often found it ironic how the employees that she didn’t bother with were the ones who always thought they’d won her over. It was quite the opposite, actually—she didn’t care.”

She looks me up and down, assessing me.