Page 86 of Milk & Malice: Vadik

When I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my pet looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.

Her back straightened. Her quiet moos grew louder as she slid onto her hooves, trotting toward me. I stared at her horned head as she rubbed her cheek against my thigh.

“Good morning, pet. I wanted to make a special breakfast for you today.”

Her moo sounded like a complaint, but I smothered my smirk and proceeded with her morning routine. The only difference was that I hand-fed her instead of dumping it all in her trough—and I delayed her milking.

Bite by bite, the blue of her eyes softened. She looked at me the way my peers once had—before I’d tried to claw my own face off, before the incident that shattered my world. I’d missed that reverence, the kind I used to see in colleagues and patients alike.

I dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, then ate the remains. My eyes never left her as she relaxed on the bed—Washed, fed, and ready to be milked and mounted.

My cock was already hard from feeding her.

“Come here, my sweet. I have something for you,” I said, wiping my hands with a fresh napkin.

As she moved closer, I slipped a hand into my pocket and drew out the thick, gold-beaded chain—the one with the carefully crafted cowbell attached. The small bell gave a delicate tinkle as I unfastened the clasp.

Lena’s eyes locked onto it.

Not with disgust. Not even a flicker of hesitation.

But awe. And gratitude.

“Moo,” she said softly, happily, as I leaned in to fasten it around her neck.

“There was never any doubt. You’re mine, my sweet milk cow,” I murmured, pulling back to admire the bell resting above her leaking, swollen udders.“Now lie back and offer your Owner his holes.”

My Bratva brothers could play at keeping pets. Pretend. Dress them up and call it love.

But I didn’t pretend.

I made mine.

An obedient creature. A perfect dairy cow.

Her milky white thighs spread wide. Hooves in the air. Holes exposed and glistening.

All mine.

Her Owner.

Epilogue

Vadik

Three Years Later

I slipped my phone into my pocket when I heard the footsteps. Viktor’s nosiness had evolved into a full-blown obsession. At first, it irritated me. Then it became a point of pride—another notch in my belt. Proof of my brilliance. He’d been wary ever since he tried to follow me home.

He didn’t appreciate the organs I’d left in his flowerbeds. Though I must admit, the intestines draped over his cherry blossom tree were rather pretty. Festive, even.

He was desperate to know about Lena. Stubborn bastard that he was.

The only person with even a sliver of information was the Pakhan, and that was because he held my final will and testament. With a two-decade age gap between us, I had no intention of letting my pet suffer should something happen to me.

The Pakhan hadn’t invited us for Christmas since.

When the door opened, Viktor threw the man into the room, giving him a vicious kick to the face as he strode in. I understood the rage. Any potential attack on the Pakhan was an attack on us all.