Page 37 of Darkest Craving

WOLFGANG

M y wife is curled up on the sofa we shared last night, sleeping peacefully.

The early morning light warms her face, casting light shadows under her lashes and lower lip.

Her body rises and lowers with quiet breaths under the blanket I covered her with.

Right there, where I fucked her, and she let me.

I fell asleep with my cock inside her after she asked me so sweetly. How could I ever refuse her? I never will, no matter how much it hurts me.

But as I sit here, a drink in my hand that I shouldn’t be drinking, all the mess in my head starts tangling again. And I remember all we’ve lost… all that I’m not sure we can ever be again.

I almost died last night because of my stupidity. I went off the rails. The thought of not having her by my side almost killed me. And when I came back in that state, she was the only one who truly cared about it without a motive. She just did.

I want to believe we could rebuild from here, but fuck… she betrayed me. And she could’ve told anyone else… but not that wench living under this roof. Not Ekaterina.

I take a large sip of the scotch, feeling the burn through my throat and into my empty stomach. It’s good. This pain is good.

Instinctively, I turn my gaze to the archway, seeing Mikhail come in. Thank fuck I covered Victoria up.

“You look like shit,” he says.

He’s wearing a four-piece suit today—a steep difference from how miserably I must look with this bloody bandage around my shoulder. But it’s alright. We may have our differences, but I’m always glad to see him step into the man he’s meant to be.

“Rough night, huh?”

“If you wake her up, I’ll kill you,” I murmur.

His brows rise, surprised. Then he takes a seat and looks at me.

“What the fuck happened? Heard you started a killing spree. Mind filling me in?”

I shrug. “We were attacked—I shot back. What do you want me to say?”

“You had men with you. There was no need to go on a suicide trip. That was dumb.”

“Keep your fucking voice down.”

He’s right. Though I wasn’t trying to die. I just… I needed an escape.

We sit in silence, with only my wife’s soft breathing filling the air. And maybe it’s exactly her softness that keeps us civil right now. I realize this is the only time my brother and I have sat in the same room without fighting.

“How long are you going to keep this on for?” he asks.

I gulp the rest of my drink. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“She’s your wife. You wanted her.”

“What do you want from me, Mikhail?”

He crosses an ankle over his knee and looks away. A moment of silence stretches between us.

“I want you to take the reins from me. I don’t want them.”

My jaw clenches. I don’t fucking want to talk to him about that.

“I just wanted to have a shot,” he says. “No, don’t look at me like that, because we both know I never stood a chance against you and that… fucking brain of yours.”

“It doesn’t matter how smart I am if I have to fight against windmills every day of my life. You and Ekaterina made sure of that.”

He sighs. “Maybe. But that’s exactly why you’ve earned it.”

I look at him, not quite sure what to say to that. Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? Their stamp of fucking approval? I never even knew why. It just felt like the missing piece of my life. Until…

I look at my wife, and last night’s events run through my mind.

The missing piece was her… She has been… all along.

Still, for Mikhail to say these things to me now… The memories come back to me in pieces—how he and Ekaterina fought that day, in the garden, how shocked he looked when Father made him Pakhan. How he comforted Victoria when I left her in my office… Corinne told me.

“It was hard for me too, you know? Being in your shadow from the moment I was born.”

“What?” I hold my breath.

“What, you think I had a perfect childhood? My mother is a fucking bitch. She never looks at me like I’m enough. And let’s be honest, you’ve always been Father’s favorite.” He scoffs, sounding bittersweet.

Have I truly not seen him all these years? My brother… he’s supposed to hate me. It’s what I’ve always known. Now he’s telling me he feels utterly alone in this world.

He shakes his head. “We were kids. And we were pitted against each other for the longest time. Fuck, I don’t know what else to tell you, but just… end this bullshit with Victoria. Because unlike me, you actually have someone who loves you. Don’t be an idiot and give that up.”

I’m lost for words as he gets up. Have I been so wrapped up in my own pain I never saw his?

I follow him with my eyes until he’s almost out of the room.

“She betrayed me. I don’t know how to get back from that.”

He halts. “Yeah, I know she did. But like I said… My mother is a cunt. She played her, and you know it.”

VICTORIA

I’m in the shower upstairs, watching the water slide down my body and go down the drain.

Today, I don’t feel empty—I am terrified.

Wolfgang could’ve died last night. I could’ve lost him for good, and I have a feeling this is my fault.

I hurt him. So badly that he didn’t care what happened to him.

That he looked for pain elsewhere because maybe he didn’t know how to deal with the one we share. I don’t either.

All I know is I want him, and the only thing last night managed to do was make me crave him harder, not make it go away.

I finish showering and check my phone.

He hasn’t replied to any of the messages I sent this morning, making it pretty clear where we stand. What we did was a fling. A distraction, maybe. But it wasn’t forgiveness. He’s still punishing me, and all I can do for now is take it.

I put on some clothes and dry my hair before I trudge out into the hallway. I need to get out of here, to soak in what’s left of the summer sun before depression fully takes me to the point of no return. Besides, I miss Alaska.

I feed her every day, but I haven’t ridden her in a while. Not that I will today—I can’t—though I can at least spend more time with her in the stables.

A low, eerie voice stops me in my tracks when I’m almost to the main door downstairs.

It’s a voice I rarely hear in this house. Because Yuri Rykov is like a ghost—we all know he’s here, but he rarely makes himself known. As if he enjoys keeping you on your toes, enjoys seeing the fear poking through your skin as goosebumps at the sound of him.

Normally, that’s exactly what I would be feeling right now, since I’m alone. But something else ignites in me. A rage so quiet, so deadly, it stands no chance in the face of that fear.

If anyone is to blame for all the shit going on in Wolfgang’s life, it’s this man right here—his father. Someone needs to straighten him out fast.

Still, that tendril of fear is there, begging me to back down. Only my feet don’t listen. They move on their own accord, each step heavy, weighted, heartbreak still coursing through me.

Lightheaded from what can only be an obscene amount of adrenaline, I step into the door frame of his study.

He’s looking down at some papers scattered on his desk with his grizzled hair and the worn out body of an ancient god of the underworld. He’s clean of any cuts, flawless, not inked and scarred like Wolfgang. Or Mikhail. I don’t know if I should be even more scared by the fact… or relieved.

Either way, I’m here, and my heart is in my throat. Because his eyes are no longer on the papers. They’re watching me. And he looks like he’s about to draw blood.

“You…” he says, taking off his glasses. “You’ve got some fucking nerve to show up here, girl.”

My heartbeat's so loud, his voice is muffled, like he’s underwater.

“Stole my son’s future…” He gets up. “Caused chaos in my business…” He rounds the desk slowly, as if he’s being extra careful with the corners. “And on top of that, you did what women do these days—played Wolfgang like a two-faced cunt. And he fell for it.”

The words sting, but it’s nothing compared to the rage building quickly inside me. Not for me—for my husband. What Yuri is implying is that Wolf is weak and na?ve, when we all know he’s anything but.

Yuri stops in front of me, his watchful eyes shifting across my face. He could hit me. I know he could. But I won’t give him the chance to do so before I tell him everything I’ve been bottling up.

“He’s your son ,” I tell him between clenched teeth. “And you pulled the rug from under his feet when he was doing everything in his power to earn your love. To do what you wanted him to do in the first place and take the goddamn throne!”

“What I wanted him to do has nothing to do with what he did.” His voice is calm, quiet.

Completely different from mine—a shaky, loud mess.

It scares me even more, but I don’t back down.

He adds, “I needed him to be more. And instead, he made himself happy.” He puts on a mocking smile.

“Do you know what that tells people, girl?”

“That he’s the richest man in the goddamn world.”

“No. No… It tells them he’s human.”

I blink, taken aback. He can’t possibly be that far gone…

“It tells them…” he continues, “That he’s a simple man, just like them. And simple men don’t build up empires. Their blood is too warm—they have blind spots, weaknesses. But monsters? We don’t care who we step on. We keep our eye on the prize. As he should’ve done if he wanted the throne so badly.”

A smile spreads across his face, resembling Wolfgang and Mikhail’s, but not fully. Something is seriously wrong with this man.

“None of my sons deserves to be king, Victoria. One of them doesn’t even want the title. The other wants it, but he’s too weak. Do you know how hard that is for a parent to realize?”

The words roll off my tongue faster than I can control them. “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

His eyes squint, but he keeps silent.

I wonder if anyone as insignificant as me has ever challenged him.

“You like to hide behind these stupid metaphors, but in the end, you are a simple man, just like the rest. You have a wife. You have sons. And you can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know the real reason you initially wanted Wolfgang to take the throne is that you still haven’t gotten over his mother’s death.

She was the love of your life. He’s the only proof she ever existed.

That she could love a monster like you.” His jaw clenches, but he still listens.

I’m letting it all out, even if I don’t know how much of it is true.

It’s just what I think. But based on the look on his face, it seems my words resonate with him, that I’m telling him the truth.

“If you were really being honest with yourself,” I continue, “you’d realize the reason you’re so angry with him isn’t that he was showing the world he’s weak.

It’s that he was happy, that he had everything he ever wanted—the kind of life that slipped between your fingers when your ex-wife died, and you never found that love again.

Because it’s rare!” I shout, tears lodged in my throat as I slap my chest with my palm.

“That love is rare, but you still had it. And now your son has it, and instead of wishing him well and giving him his birthright… all you’re doing is showing the world what a sorry ass man you are. ”

Silence stretches between us. So much so that I get the chance to take a few deep breaths and calm myself down a little. In the end, I point a finger in his direction, my voice finally low. Collected.

“He earned that throne. And you fucking know it.”

Yuri stares at me, frozen somewhere in time, with a tight jaw and the look of a man who’s bleeding for the first time. In front of a stranger. In front of the daughter of the man who betrayed him and started everything.

I walk out with my head held high, knowing he won’t do anything to attack me now. Only when I reach my room on the second floor… only then I close the door behind me… and break down.