Page 1 of Darkest Craving

VICTORIA

Two months ago

P iercing golden eyes bore into me. A wolf. I had seen it and kept quiet because if I reacted in any way, the horse—already throwing fits and doing whatever the hell he wanted—would’ve felt the panic in the strain of my muscles. And he would’ve knocked me off my saddle instantly.

He was a young, untrained stallion, and I had no idea where he came from, or why my father even purchased him.

But, if I was being honest, a big part of me hoped it was his way of making up for our strained relationship. That he had finally chosen to extend his love to me.

I clung to that thought, a bit desperately maybe, because I wanted it to be true.

Owning a horse had been my dream for far too long. Besides, my twenty-second birthday was coming up, so perhaps he’d dumped him as my gift in the stables.

Sasha Kasparov, my instructor of many years, stood facing me, completely oblivious to the man watching our lesson. A man, yes, not an actual wolf—though he might as well have been one. His dark figure loomed over us like an evil spirit spawned by the forest surrounding my family’s villa.

The sight frightened me.

Dangerous men came to our house all the time. It was not unusual to see one now and then, no matter how much my parents tried to keep their blood business from my sister and me.

But this man… this cunning wolf preying on us right now… he was different, though I couldn’t put my finger on what made him so. All I knew was that his stance—his energy—had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up and the breath in my lungs trembling on its way out into the crisp air.

And he was tall—tall enough that he was at eye level with the stallion—and built like a monolith of muscle and sheer precision. It was visible even through the texture of his long winter coat.

Hands inside the pockets, he watched me as the wind caressed the tresses of his short, dark hair, surrounding him with even more mystery.

What was he doing out here so early in the morning? Why wasn’t he in my father’s office, like the rest?

The stallion shifted beneath me, snorting softly, his black coat gleaming in the muted sunlight. Taking a long breath in, I tried to relax, to give him the impression I was calm.

“Sit up taller, Victoria. Shoulders back,” Sasha called from behind me, his sharp Russian accent slicing through the quiet.

I straightened up and relaxed my hands on the reins. “Come on, boy, let’s go.”

And I didn’t know why, but I suddenly felt the need to prove myself and show the stranger I was in control of my horse, even if I wasn’t.

I waited, albeit restlessly, giving the animal time to react to my command. But he didn’t budge.

Like a statue carved from arrogance, he stomped his hooves against the sand, snorting as if to mock me.

It wasn’t the horse’s fault, that I knew.

I simply hadn’t trained one before, even with all the knowledge I gathered over the years by leasing different breeds.

It also didn’t help that I was impatient by nature.

I urged him again before the reins tightened in my grasp. The thought of being watched so closely and by someone so stoic made my pulse quicken in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Or ever. I felt exposed, vulnerable under his gaze, wishing Sasha would tell him to go away.

Teeth clenched, I kept encouraging the horse, firmer this time. Only now he was peeling back his ears, a clear sign he wanted nothing to do with me.

Shit.

Sasha grumbled, probably sensing my frustration. “You know better than to–”

His phone rang, stealing his attention.

Lifting a finger in the air to tell me he’d be right back, he walked away. And it was right at that moment that a low, composed whistle made its way to me on the wind, loud enough for only me and the horse to hear it.

Consequently, and to my utter disbelief, the stallion started walking.

Just not in the direction I was steering him.

No. This horse had shut me off completely— me , a professional horse rider—and turned to walk toward the wolf , toward the stranger, instead.

As if he knew him. Or as if the whistle had been commanding enough to deem him as his new master.

Familiar as my heartbeat, the rhythmic thud of hooves meeting the ground reached my ears as I swayed slowly from the movement.

The man exuded danger, and the horse was leading me straight to him.

He could hurt me, couldn’t he? No one here could stop him. Surely not my sixty-three-year-old instructor, who wasn’t as strong as he once was. And my father’s goons weren’t even here. Normally, there was no need to be guarded so closely on our own property.

Maybe it’s time to change that.

But the closer the horse took me, the more something surged in me.

The sun peeked from behind a gray cloud, momentarily blinding me, and I squinted my eyes.

Because this wolf… was he smiling? Yes, he sure was.

One corner of his mouth was slightly up.

And had I not picked up on the subtle incline of his eyes toward the stallion, I would’ve thought he was doing it for… me.

“There you are,” the stranger said in a low voice that went past his lush lips—a voice like dark molasses poured slow and rich that coated every word in sins too heavy for me to want to imagine.

The horse stopped in front of him, bowing his head in greeting, offering his submission. “Well done,” he praised the animal.

I gulped.

Taking him in, I noticed how different he looked from the boys at college, and maybe it had to do with the fact that he wasn’t one. He was a man, and he was older, maybe somewhere in his early thirties.

A wave of heat washed over me, my clothes suddenly heavy.

I was too hot with the winter vest on top of my jacket.

Too hot beneath the white breeches hugging my thighs.

Too hot with my helmet on, which I knew I shouldn’t remove while still up on the horse. But I did it anyway so the cool air could kiss my forehead.

Everything was suffocating.

The motion got the stranger’s attention. His gaze slowly lifted to me—piercing and deadly, painted in the pale yellow of dawn with uneven specks of spilled whiskey. What a strange color. Strange and… incredibly alluring.

His smile faded.

And his features—that sharp jawline with neatly trimmed stubble—hardened at the sight of me. It made me that much more defensive knowing he wasn’t pleased with me, for whatever reason.

“And who are you?” he asked, sounding bored, as he retracted his palm from the horse’s snout.

Who am I? Who am I when he’s on our property, and he’s the intruder?

I looked back at my instructor, hoping he’d intervene, but he was fully engaged in whatever heated conversation he was having over the phone on the other side of the arena.

The stranger tsked, a disappointed, corroding reaction that sent a flicker of shock through my body. “Cat got your tongue?”

Scowling, I kept my tone equally bland when I answered, “Victoria Romanov. And you’re trespassing.”

I swung my leg over the saddle, sliding down in one fluid motion, boots hitting the ground with a muted thud. A mistake, really, because now I was way below his size. The urge to climb on the horse was strong, but I would’ve looked stupid doing so. And insecure.

Heart in my throat, I waited for his reaction not knowing what to expect. I had been right earlier when I compared him to a wolf. He was attractive—cunningly so. The kind mothers wouldn’t want their daughters hanging out with because he broke hearts.

But it wasn’t just about the way he looked. It was his stance, his confidence. Nothing seemed to faze him. He moved with a grace so lethal he seemed to have all the time in the world to do what he pleased. And maybe he did.

Then there was his scent—the muted amber, the smoky sandalwood—it invited you in.

In fact, everything about this man beckoned me closer.

He was the kind of predator that could’ve lured you in without a sound, then devoured you slowly, savoring every inch, burying your bones somewhere no one would ever find them.

He had to know these things about himself.

“Tell me, Victoria , do you enjoy being told what to do?”

The air in my lungs whooshed out.

“Excuse me?”

The corner of his lush mouth went up as he jerked his head toward Sasha. “You looked at him before you answered me. Do you often seek approval from men to do what you want?”

I snorted an incredulous laugh, annoyed at my speechlessness. But I watched him closely, and I noticed how his smile barely widened, never reaching his eyes.

“You’re flashing your nervousness all over the arena,” he said, changing the subject so abruptly it took me aback. “The horse can smell it on you.”

I crossed my arms, holding the reins at my chest. “He hasn’t been trained. And he’s young—”

“Not willing to assume responsibility, I see. Perhaps you need a bit of training yourself.”

“ Perhaps —” I blinked “—you should mind your own goddamn business and leave, before my father’s goons snap your neck.”

He fell quiet for a moment, almost as if lost in thought. What was he thinking? Who was this man?

“Victoria, get inside.” Sasha finally stepped forward, seeing the wolf for the first time just then. Shielding me as best as he could.

And I wanted to do just what he suggested. God , I really did, but I didn’t want this man to think I was scared. Cowering in front of a predator was never a good idea.

“Why should I be the one to leave? He’s the one who interrupted us.”

“ Now , Victoria.”

Sasha had never raised his voice at me before.

Startled, my gaze shifted between the two men.

The air was tense, thick with the promise of danger and blood.

And the way this wolf continued to look through me still flustered me.

The gesture itself was so simple, so distant, yet so utterly terrifying as if…

as if he could see all that I had never revealed to the world about myself—my darkest thoughts, my hopes and dreams. Everything.

My lips parted. I almost stepped back, desperately wanting to leave. But the wolf clasped his hands in front of him calmly and said–

“He isn’t untrained. He just doesn’t understand English.”

I scowled. “W-what?”

The horse. He’s talking about the horse.

“He understands his commands in Russian.”

“And you know that, how?”

Behind him, a black, spotless Rolls-Royce stopped in the driveway. A driver, dressed in an impeccable coat, opened the door to the backseat.

“Because the horse is mine.”

My eyes shifted from the driveway to the stranger in front of me, widening at the new information. His long coat billowed behind him, caught in the gentle wind as he walked away. Lethal—so lethal was that walk, and the way he’d spoken, and the way he’d showed up with no one noticing.

I blinked once more before he disappeared into the car completely, and the engine roared back to life.

The wind whooshed past my ears, and the chirping of sparrows resumed all around me, like a forest coming back to life after a predator left the area.

But my goosebumps… they never stopped crawling down my spine.

Because even though the windows were tinted and I couldn’t see inside the car, I knew those sunset-colored eyes kept watching.