Page 17 of Vow to Corrupt You (Gods of Corruption #1)

Nikos

Serena Romano. My wife. Her name complements mine so perfectly. She was destined to be mine.

I feel a swell of pride as I watch her, knowing that she belongs to me . I see the way she’s drawing the gazes of every man in the room. They look at her with admiration and desire, their eyes drinking in the sight of her as if she’s a goddess herself.

And she is. To them and to me.

Innocent. Beautiful. Even in that black dress she’s wearing, she radiates a light that contrasts with the darkness I carry within me—the darkness of every man in this room. Her innocence is untainted by the corruption of our world, making her all the more alluring.

They can look all they want, but they will never have her.

She is mine.

Mine to corrupt.

“We should conduct the initiation first,” I announce.

The members nod and gather in a circle around Serena and me. Servants bring a glass vessel and place it before us on a round table.

Serena looks at me, terror painting her face, but I nod before joining the circle. Usually, I would conduct the initiation, but because she is related to me—whether by blood or other ties—the second-most important member of the society will perform the ritual.

So today, it’s Barry Thorne, a Mafia Don from Las Vegas.

He walks through the back entrance of the room.

His face is hidden beneath the skull mask, brought in by the servants on silver trays.

Each one of us puts one on as well. We like to add a mythic flair to our society.

After all, we’re the Gods . We reject the ordinary.

Jamal stands to one side, Aric on the other, though their faces are also hidden beneath the masks.

Barry turns to Aric, who passes him a knife. Serena’s eyes widen as she watches the blade gleaming in the flickering light.

“You are about to swear absolute loyalty to our society. Make a blood oath marking you as one of us. Should you break any of the code rules, you will be sentenced to death. Do you understand?”

Serena visibly swallows, her throat constricting, but she nods firmly. “Yes. I understand.”

Vold grabs Serena’s arm, extending it over the vessel. Thorne makes a small incision on her palm, and a few drops of her blood drip into the glass, staining the clear vodka.

“You will now recite the oath,” Barry tilts his head.

“I vow upon the blood that runs through my veins to keep the code of silence with absolute loyalty until death. I will never speak of what I hear within these walls, and I will never reveal the secrets of society. Any betrayal shall be the end of me.”

She recites the oath, and then Barry makes a slight cut on his hand, mixing his blood with hers and the alcohol.

“Drink,” Thorne hands the cup to Serena.

She glances at me nervously but lifts it to her lips and takes a sip. She winces at the sharp, metallic taste that will linger with her for the rest of her days. I should know, as I’ve performed this same ritual.

“Our strength is your strength. Your enemies are our enemies,” Thorne states, and each of us reiterates.

“We are bound together by blood. From now on, you are one of us, Serena Romano.”

Barry bows and retreats to another room, followed by Jamal and Aric, while servants collect the masks. I approach Serena and take her hand in mine, planting a kiss on her cut.

“Am I a member of the society now, too?” she asks, and I nod. “Like you? Will I have the UV-reactive ink as well?”

“Not quite like me, not yet, at least not in the full meaning of the word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you can join me at social events, but can’t participate in business meetings or make decisions. That privilege is reserved for chief members like me, the Mafia Dons or Donnas.”

“So,” she says, swallowing hard and gazing at her bleeding palm. “What was the point of that?”

“I told you. It’s a tradition.” With my hand on the small of her back, I lead her to the restroom so she can wash the blood from her hand and tend to her cut.

“Each Don or Donna who marries is to introduce their spouse to the society. Marriage is considered something sacred in our world. That way, I don’t have to keep the society a secret from you. ”

“Lie to me.”

“Exactly.”

We enter the restroom, and I turn on the water for her, gently pulling her palm under the running water—the crimson red of her blood contrasts sharply with the white sink.

“Did your initiation look the same?” she glances at me.

“No,” I smirk at the memory, of all the torture I had to go through to prove I was worthy of being a member.

“Far from it.” I turn off the faucet and grab a towel, drying her hand.

“It was very brutal and difficult. It was a process that took many months during which I had tasks to fulfill. I even had to kill and endure so much pain that many before me had given up.”

She swallows. “Is that why you have the scars on your body?”

My jaw hardens. “No. At least not all of them.”

“I see.” She presses the towel to her hand. “Then why was it so easy with me? Why did they trust me so easily?”

“Because I, the fully initiated God, chose you as my wife.” Her eyes flicker between mine like small, restless flames. “I vouch for you.”

“Aren’t you scared I will betray you? The society?”

“Even if you don’t care about me, I know you care too much about your family to betray me or the society.”

She nods, and her gaze drops to her hand. “I think it stopped bleeding.”

I take the towel from her and caress her palm. “Perfect.”

For the next half hour, the members of the society extend their congratulations on our nuptials and welcome Serena to the society.

Eventually, Serena engages herself in a conversation with Oskar Wilczynski, Polish Mafia leader, Alexei Morozov, the boss of Russian bratva, and his wife, while I talk to Aric over a glass of whiskey.

“Do you trust her?” He takes a casual sip, but a tense pause follows.

“What do you mean by that?” My expression hardens, but I show none of the wrath beneath the surface of my cold exterior. “I hope you’re not suggesting there are any doubts about my wife because I’d hate for you to have an enemy in me, Vold.”

A smirk forms on his lips behind the crystal glass while he takes another sip, unmoved by the threat in my voice.

“I couldn’t care less who you choose to marry,” he says with a heavy Norse accent.

“But others talk. They say it was risky of you to marry an outsider, especially one whose twin brother sought your demise.”

My jaw tightens imperceptibly.

Of course, Vold would be the only one decent enough to tell me to my face rather than whisper behind my back.

He’s an honorable man in every sense of the word.

He doesn’t waste words and speaks only when necessary, and carries the Nordic coldness with him like a Viking, as they call him, wherever he goes.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

Aric nods, knowing far too well the implication of my statement. In the world we live in, trust is a luxury none can afford. “Understood,” he murmurs, finishing his drink.

Instinctively, my gaze shifts to Serena, her face as pale as a flake of snow. The Russian spouses or the Polish bachelor no longer in sight. Instead, Rodrigo Castro, a capo of a Colombian drug cartel, says something to my wife, his facial expression screaming anger, hatred.

“No deberías estar aquí, no eres nadie, una perra,” Rodrigo shrieks in Spanish, his voice carrying across the room.

Did the filthy bastard just call my wife a nobody and a bitch?

In an instant, my muscles tighten beneath my tailored suit, my jaw clenching with restrained fury. I didn’t have to grasp the whole meaning to know he’s insulting my wife , and no one insults what’s mine.

Before I can even think, I shove past Aric and seize Rodrigo by the collar of his expensive suit, my grip like a vise as I push him against the nearest wall. The room falls silent, save for the crash of a sculpture of Athena holding an olive branch in her hands, shattering into pieces at our feet.

“Serena is now Mrs. Romano,” I rasp darkly, pinning him with force against the wall. “You will show her the respect she deserves, or you will learn what it means to face my wrath.”

Castro scoffs. He’s known for his arrogance and superiority toward others. He likes to believe he stands above others in power and stature. His bitterness over my rejection of his proposal to merge our families through marriage to his sister fueled his disdain for me and, now, for my wife.

“I won’t bow to a dog,” he spits, his tone dripping with mockery.

A surge of wrath tightens every muscle in me. No one insults my wife like that. No one.

“Then it’s war,” I growl.

The room seems to hold its breath. Everyone present understands the gravity of my words.

Rodrigo glares at me, aggravated, but I sense a flicker of fear beneath the surface.

I can smell it. He has underestimated me; he didn’t think mere words would cause this outrage, and now the damage has been done.

The repercussions of his hatred will ripple through the entire underground world.

The war has begun. There will be no room for mercy.

The city lights blur in my eyes as I drive at full speed.

My hand grips the steering wheel as if it were Rodrigo’s neck, and the sound of the engine mimics the sound of his cracking bones.

Fucking bastard. If I could, I would’ve killed him right on the spot with my bare hands.

I would’ve squeezed the life out of him, watching his soulless eyes fade as he struggled to breathe.

But this isn’t how things are done in our world.

Not when another Don, The Gods’ member, is involved.

Castro is too significant a player, and the society has its own rules.

So, unfortunately, killing him on the spot was not an option. Shame .

“You didn’t have to react like that,” Serena clings to the inside door handle. “It wasn’t worth it…”

“What do you mean it ?” I hiss through gritted teeth, still focused on the road ahead.

“Starting a war with a Colombian cartel leader because of me…” My jaw tightens, and I push the gas to its limit. Her fingers grip the panel tighter.

“You’re my wife, wicked one . There could be no greater reason for war than an insult directed at you.”

Silence falls. Serena glances at me with equal parts bewilderment and incredulity.

“My great-grandfather was one of the founders of the society.” My low voice breaks the momentary silence. “It’s part of our heritage, passed down through generations. By dawn, I’ll have Castro removed from the society. He’ll lose everything.”

“But…” she breathes heavily. “What about the war between you now?”

The edges of my lips lift at the concern in her voice. “Are you worried about me, wicked one ?”

I shoot a quick glance at her. Her brows knit together a fraction as if my words were an insurmountable riddle.

“I can handle it,” I continue, sparing her the need to respond. “I won’t tolerate anyone insulting you, even if it means war. You are now Mrs. Romano. Own it.”

The engine sounds turn to a rhythmic hum as we wait for the gate to my residence to open. My men are already waiting by the entrance, helping Serena out of the car. I leave the keys inside for them to park the vehicle and follow inside.

“Will you be sleeping in a separate room tonight, too?” Serena turns to me as we enter the main hallway, her eyes haunted by the recent event.

I close the distance between us, causing her to retreat slightly until her back meets a column like the ones in the Olympus club.

I had this house renovated along with the club, reflecting my Greek heritage from my mother’s side.

It was my tribute to her and a way of erasing any memory of my father.

I place a hand on her thigh where the cut of her dress is. “Is that what you want?”

“I…” her breath catches as I trace the delicate curve of her thigh. “I was just wondering.”

I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a low murmur filled with dark suggestion. “I said I’ll wait until you beg me to fuck you.”

Her chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. She grips the column behind her for support, her eyes flickering between mine with heavy eyelids that are torn between fear and desire.

“So, do you…” I whisper, brushing my lips against her ear, “want me to fuck you, wicked one ?”