Page 8 of The Games of Madmen

She sticks up her middle finger, causing us both to burst into laughter.

“There will be plenty of fucking, too, Voskoboynikov,” Rodion says in warning. “We’re not patient men. We’re madmen, lovely. And we’ve officially taken our bounty.”

She closes her eyes, and I do the same.

She’s ours.

Two days later…

Alyona, our gorgeous prize, is now sitting on the couch with Rodion rather than rotting in The Games arena. Two days ago, we brought her to a little apartment we like to keep just outside of the city. It’s quiet and private. The only other person who knows about it is our housekeeper who cleans and brings us fresh groceries every couple of days.

She’s safe here.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, unable to pull my eyes from her, even for a second.

“Like I have too much energy,” she murmurs, “and I need an outlet.”

I flash her a wolfish grin and prowl toward her. “Mmm, we can help tire you out, love.”

“You’re both evil,” she snorts out, shivering at my nearness. Her eyes dart to the tattoo on my neck, a skull complete with devil horns and a snake coiled around it, slithering through the eye sockets, a perfect match to the one on Rodion’s neck. “Devil twins.”

No argument there.

Our little angel likes to play with demons.

Rodion traces her bare stomach with his fingertip while I tug on her ear with my teeth.

“When you compliment us, it only gives us bigger heads,” I explain, my breath tickling against her ear. “And not the ones on our shoulders.”

She lets out a moan that makes my dick practically fucking seep with the need to be inside her. Such a tease, this girl. Lying next to her for two nights straight without taking and claiming her as our own has been its own form of torture. But she needed rest. Now she’s had too much of it, apparently.

“You’re not getting in my pants,” she sasses, her voice breathy from the angel bite—a seductive drug she’d taken earlier to try and help her relax. Despite months of training, flirting,falling…

She has never given into her lust for us and that ends now. I need to taste her, feel her, claim her.

“What about in your bra?” Rodion teases, sliding under her skimpy tank top that barely covers her breasts.

“Mmm…” Her soft moan is encouraging.

“I think that’s a yes,” I tell him.

She lets out a sharp breath when I bite the side of her neck.

“Zahkar,” she whimpers.

My dick jolts at her calling my name. There was a time I hated being given a new name by my adoptive father, Andru, until Rodion used it for the first time. It sounds different on the lips of someone you care about so fucking deeply.

“Yes, princess?” I taunt.

Her kitten-like growl sends Rodion into a bout of laughter.

“I am Alyona Voskoboynikov,” she says primly. “You can call me Queen, not princess.”

“Queen, hmm?” Rodion murmurs. “Does that mean you need a throne?”

“I have a throne you can sit on,” I growl, grabbing hold of her hips and drawing her out of Rodion’s reach and into my lap so she’s straddling me.

Her blonde hair cascades down in front of her generous tits and her plump lips part in surprise.