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The tension coming from those wondering what my intentions are is so thick it could choke me.
I cut Viktor a glance as I walk by. The scent of his thirst for vengeance is like acid in the air and I wonder what stolen opportunity he hates me for the most. The legacy I seized from him or the woman I took.
Both losses must be eating him alive in equal parts. I know I’ll be enjoying both ventures. Especially the woman.
Anastasia Sidorov has plagued my mind from the moment she walked into the dining room this morning. With her perfumed hair damp, face free of makeup, and her helplessness hanging on her sleeve, I found her even more beautiful than she already is.
It’s nearly nine at night and I’m still thinking of what those pillowy lips would feel like around my cock.
All day, my fucking cock has stirred at the memory of how she looked when I taunted her.
I knew from the moment I left the house that this attraction between us—which I know she’s acknowledged too—is going to be a problem for us.
A problem I shouldn’t concerned about, along with her declaration that she’s been with Viktormanytimes. Surprisingly, that irritated the fuck out of me, but it’s something I need to shove out of my mind. I’m too old to be thinking with my dick. Everything I’ve done so far is the art of war at its finest. Many years have been put into my plan and no part of it must fail.
When I reach the Fountain of Promises, Aleksander and I bow to each other respectfully. He takes the ceremonial blade and holds it out to me.
“Desmier Bjorn Volkova, do you swear your life and allegiance to our cause?” Aleksander keeps his gaze fixed on me as if he’s trying to see into my mind.
“I do.” I raise my right hand and pledge.
“Then please take the oath.”
“Luramentum est vita nostra et mors nostra,” I say in Latin, which translates to:The oath is our life and our death.
Aleksander dips his head but he still eyes me with scrutiny. Although taking the oath before him tells him I pledge to him as my leader, I’m aware he doesn’t like the idea of me. He doesn’t know me and he’s just as threatened by my presence as everyone else. When he chose my father for this role, he knew he was choosing the Volkova line. In our family, roles like this are inherited from father to son or brother to brother. It was an act signed in blood that can’t be relinquished now no matter how he feels.
“Give me your hand.”
I hold out my hand and he slices a thin line across my palm. Blood trickles from the wound and drops into the fountain, renewing my vow to the Knights.
When I took this oath before I decided it was one I would live by because it was the anchor to my past, present and future. As I take the oath now I consciously make the decision to do the same thing.
It’s what my mother would have wanted, so my oath is for her. She came from a family who would always be servants. Becoming a Knight is something that would have made her proud.
Growing up she was always telling me stories about the old Viking Knights who were led by Raventhorn, the leader who started all this when he and his men worked for Vladimir the Great as secret assassins.
“We as a brotherhood accept your pledge and the service of your life for our cause.” Aleksander bows his head again and I do the same. When he rises, he looks at everyone else. “You may all go.”
All except me. He wants me to stay behind and speak with him. Talking to me in this sacred hall is like binding me again. Everything I say will be held as part of the oath.
The men bow and leave, but the tension is still here.
Aleksander continues to keep his face stern and gaze unwavering until
we’re alone.
At fifty-one years old he’s considered to be one of the younger leaders in the alliance, but there’s a natural ruthlessness in his eyes that makes him look much older.
He glances at my rune, then flicks his gaze back to mine. “What are your real intentions here?” The question in words and tone cuts to the chase.
“They are what you see.” That’s the actual truth, no matter what my other plans are.
“You took the oath in front of me and you’re going to be my second-in-command. That means you don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not.”
“Then answer me this: how will you fulfill your role if you are at sea for most of the year?”
