Page 20 of Crimson Oath (The Firebird and the Wolf #2)

Oleg

“ Y ou’re fidgeting.” Mika paged through another book of poetry on the plane. “You cannot be nervous about meeting this driver.”

Oleg was flying to Moscow to meet the injured human driver from Polina’s territory who had moved from the hospital to rehab. “I’m not nervous.” He enjoyed meeting his humans. “I have simply been away from the citadel too long.”

“Your castle isn’t going anywhere.”

It wasn’t the castle that called him, it was solitude. It was space. It was physical activity. He’d been surrounded by vampires and humans and corporate constraints for too long. If he didn’t get some time to himself in the mountains, he would end up murdering Mika.

He might do that anyway if the man continued sipping his blood-wine like that.

Slurp .

Had Mika always drunk wine so loudly?

Slurp .

Oleg curled his lip, growled low in his chest, and Mika looked up. The vampire blinked, then frowned when he saw Oleg’s fangs .

“You don’t need your castle—you need to fuck someone.” Mika shook his head. “Forget about the Vorona woman and find a willing woman in Moscow.” He pulled out a small black book from his pocket. “Do you want me to call one of your ex-girlfriends? There are two living in Moscow right now that?—”

“Enough,” Oleg snarled. “Fuck you.”

“No, seriously, fuck you .” Mika sighed. “You’re going to end up murdering Ivan if you don’t work out some of this tension.”

Murdering Ivan sounded delightful. Oleg closed his eyes and imagined how he would kill his most despised brother.

Beheading with an axe was classic but somehow not enough.

He could rip Ivan’s head from his body. He could dig his fingers into Ivan’s neck and send his fire into his brother’s puny brain.

He could tell Mika to leach the water from Ivan’s system, then use Ivan’s desiccated body as the center of a bonfire.

“You’re actually imagining how you’re going to kill Ivan right now, aren’t you?”

“Why the fuck are we going into his territory?” Oleg muttered. “We could fly this driver to Sochi for a holiday.”

“We’re going” —Mika leaned forward— “because it is not Ivan’s territory, it is yours .”

Right. Moscow was his even though he disliked the city.

“You’ve allowed Ivan too much independence. When people hear the Sokolov name now, what do they think of?” Mika asked. “Weapons dealing? Drugs and alcohol?”

“And your point is?” Oleg didn’t care what his reputation was as long as it kept his people safe. In fact, the worse his reputation was, the more enemies would keep away.

“When they hear Sokholov, they think of Ivan.” Mika rolled his eyes. “Of all the Ivans.”

Oleg’s older brother had the irritating habit of siring children and naming them Ivan too. There had to be at least a dozen immortal Ivan Sokholovs living and working around the world, and the original Ivan thought it was hilarious .

“You will rein him in,” Mika said, “or the druzhina will be forced to do something whether you like it or not.”

Oleg cut his eyes to his chief boyar, but Mika didn’t look away.

Outsiders often misunderstood the structure of his empire. Oleg was the head of the clan and the knyaz, but that didn’t mean he ruled without consequences.

The druzhina would remove him and put another in his place if they had to.

“You wouldn’t,” Oleg said. “Because no one wants this fucking job but me.”

And these days, he wasn’t feeling very sure about that. When being head of the clan meant killing Truvor and bringing rogue vampires under control, conquering territory, and bringing order out of chaos, he had reveled in it.

These days being the knyaz of the Kievan Rus meant office buildings, computer files, board meetings, and paperwork.

And flying to Moscow to shake hands with humans under his aegis.

“I was not built for meetings,” Oleg said slowly. “I was not made for looking through paperwork and files. What is this bullshit you have me doing, Mika? I’m sitting in Odesa when I could be?—”

“Cruising down Central Europe in a longboat, pillaging at night and burning enemy soldiers?”

Oleg bared his fangs. “Maybe.”

Mika stared at him and took another drink of blood-wine. “In this era, you pillage far more when you hire a good tax accountant.”

Oleg let out a growl that rumbled in his chest and slammed the goblet of blood-wine from Mika’s hand. “You drink too loudly.”

Mika looked at the spilled blood leaching into the carpets in their compartment. “You’re giving Cesar a raise.”

“Fine,” Oleg snarled. “He’s probably overdue for one anyway.”

“Find the Vorona woman and fuck her,” Mika said. “Or find someone . You’re becoming unbearable to live with.”

A ding sounded over the communication system .

“We are starting our descent into Moscow,” the pilot said. “Please ready the plane for landing.”

Oleg clasped the man’s rough hand in his own, making sure to warm his skin before the contact. “It’s good to see you doing so well. I know you’re recovering faster with your family here.”

The driver named Goretski had tears in his eyes. “I could never have afforded this care without you, Mr. Sokolov.”

They were meeting in the spacious living room of an apartment near the rehabilitation center where Goretski was learning how to walk again.

According to the doctors Oleg had met at nightfall, the man would regain most of his physical abilities, but his peripheral vision had been permanently damaged.

That night he sat in an easy chair near the fire, but Oleg could see the walker nearby.

Polina was already arranging alternate employment for the man in their organization since he’d no longer be able to be a commercial driver.

“It’s not even a question.” He glanced at Goretski’s pleasantly round wife. “I am honored you made the time to see me and introduce me to your family.”

“Of course, Mr. Sokolov.” Goretski and his family only knew Oleg as the CEO of the company, not as a vampire. Luckily, Oleg had perfected the art of blending in centuries before.

The Goretski family consisted of this middle-aged driver, his wife, and two teenagers who stared at Oleg with wide eyes. The boy was scrawny and still growing. The girl still had round cheeks, but she would be a beauty when she grew into her dramatic features.

Oleg turned to Mrs. Goretski. “I understand that the children have had school tutors while your husband is recovering.”

“They have,” the woman said. “And my office gave me a leave of absence to be here.”

“I’m glad. If you have any problems with them, please let us know.”

Goretski’s wife was a civil servant in Minsk, and Polina’s people had more than a few connections in the government.

“I hope the tutors have been adequate. I know the children are probably missing their friends.” He glanced at the two teens. “Education is most important, and we don’t want yours to suffer because of this horrible accident.”

“They’ve had a wonderful time here in the city,” Mrs. Goretski said. “And Anna is taking drawing lessons while she’s here.”

“Anna.” Oleg smiled. “My dear friend’s mother is named Anna. What a beautiful name for a young artist. I hope I am able to see your drawings someday.”

Her voice was barely over a whisper. “Thank you, Mr. Sokolov.”

“I’m taking martial arts,” the boy said. He puffed up his chest when he spoke.

Oleg lifted his chin in respect for the young man’s boldness. “An excellent idea. I hope you’ll be able to continue that discipline when you return home.”

The boy’s cheeks were a little red, but he nodded. “My teacher said there’s a studio in Minsk where I can keep practicing.”

“Excellent.”

“Oleg!”

He heard his name called and carefully plastered on a smile before he turned to face his brother. “Ivan.”

“I see you’ve met this wonderful family.” Ivan blustered into the room, wearing a navy-blue suit and a blood-red tie. “Families like this, they are the backbone of our company, are they not?”

“They are.”

“With two fine children, yes? A beauty for a daughter and a son who already has that tough mindset, eh?”

Ivan ruffled the boy’s hair, and the teen beamed from the attention.

His brother had always been a flatterer, and Oleg could see that Ivan’s compliments had the intended effect on both Mr. and Mrs. Goretski. They held hands, both beaming with pride.

“I’m relieved that we were able to keep the family together while Mr. Goretski recovered,” Oleg said. “It was a generous move to bring them here.”

“Ah, but I know the rehabilitation center here is world-class,” Ivan said. “One of my own sons was treated here.”

Was it after you beat him to a pulp yourself or did you set one of your vampire children on him?

Oleg didn’t say it, but their own sire had made a habit of beating them ferociously or pitting his sons against each other for amusement, and Ivan had picked up that trait.

Even as knyaz, Oleg was reluctant to intervene in Ivan’s internal affairs. After all, most of his sons came to him as lower-level human soldiers who’d worked their way up Ivan’s criminal organization. If they wanted to sign up for Ivan’s form of torture, that was their own business.

“We don’t want to keep you longer.” Oleg inclined his head toward Mr. Goretski. “I know it’s very late, and your doctors said you needed rest. I’m glad we were able to meet tonight.”

“Oleg, did you have time to discuss the matter we spoke about earlier?”

He had no idea what Ivan was talking about, but he didn’t let on. “Of course.”

“Peter and Gabriela, be well.” Ivan pointed at the couple. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, eh? You promised a cake for me.”

“Of course, Mr. Sokolov.” Mrs. Goretski smiled broadly. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“I hope not.” Ivan patted the man on the shoulder before he walked toward Oleg, joining him as they strode from the room.

They were out the door and walking down the marble-clad stairwell before Ivan spoke again. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in Georgia. ”

“Have I?” His actions outside the territory were none of Ivan’s business.