Savage Heir by Jagger Cole

25

My eyes crack open.Sunlight is barely creeping through the dark shades of my bedroom, teasing over the thick oak floorboards, the dark leather couches, and black-grey duvet—

I sit bolt upright in a panic.

I’m not in my bedroom. I’m in Ilya’s. And I’m naked.

My heart is in my throat as I whirl left right. Mercifully, I’m alone. But still…

I flush as I hug the duvet cover up to my chin. I slept naked, in a guy’s bed. For the first time. And that guy was Ilya.

Heat creeps up my cheeks. I glance furtively at the bathroom off his room. But the door is open, and it’s empty. I bite my lip, feeling terrible that the first emotion I feel when I realize Ilya isn’t near me is relief.

I sink into his bed, my pulse racing. My mind starts to replay last night—all the parts of last night. My body tingles as it all comes rushing back. First, the party, and the way Ilya made me gasp and shake and scream in the garden with his mouth between my legs. Then, coming here to his house—out of who knows what sort of crazy thinking—and everything that transpired after.

I groan. What the hell was I thinking last night?

On the one side, last night was incredible. Last night made me burn and ache in ways I never had before. But last night also feels like giving in. It feels like submission. I want to hold on to the memory of his words and his lips—of the ways he ran his fingers across my skin until I was gasping and begging for more.

But on the same stroke, it’s impossible to not think that this is all part of one of Ilya’s insidious mind games. It’s impossible to ignore that there’s a very real possibly that Ilya the psychopath… seduced me last night just to have something on Patrick.

Or to get close to me, I think with a horrible flashback to Patrick’s warning—that Ilya is only keeping me around and close to him to glean some sort of information from me about my father or Patrick’s.

It sounds like something out of a Tom Clancy book until you remember who my father, and who his uncle is. This is the most powerful crime family in the world, and second chair to the most powerful elected office in the world.

This isn’t a political thriller. This is our real lives.

The idea of Ilya having taken me to his bed as some sort of evil James Bond seduction for information thing has my stomach turning. And then, another thought hits me, and I pale.

Last night, he put his mouth on me and made me scream as I came. Then I fell asleep.

I stiffen.

Naked. I fell asleep naked, and now he’s nowhere to be seen.

It’s a horrible thought. And even as much of a devil as Ilya is, I have a hard time imagining he’d take advantage of me like that. Just the same…I pull back the blanket and peer between my legs. I blush as my hand follows, gingerly feeling for… something, I guess.

I exhale slowly. I’m being stupid. Ilya’s a lot of things, but he’s not that. And there’s no blood on the sheets or soreness or anything. I roll my eyes at myself.

I didn’t lose my virginity to The Wolf himself, in my sleep.

Nope, you were just wide awake while he went down on you. Twice.

I blush hotly. I glance around the room once more, like I’m double checking that I haven’t overlooked Ilya lurking in a dark corner or something. Quickly, I spring from the bed, grab my dress and my panties from the floor, and bolt into the bathroom.

I dress quickly. Part of me feels dirty, like a mistress or a cast-off one-night-stand. But even still, I can’t ignore the sizzling heat that throbs inside of me as I replay the night.

I crack the bathroom door open and scan the room. Still no Ilya. I creep to the bedroom door and peer out. The upstairs hallway looks deserted as well. I tip toe, remembering that my heels from the party are actually still out by Ilya’s pool. I consider going out there for them. But then I write them off instead.

The goal here is to get out, fast, before Ilya comes back, and I have to face what happened last night.

I creep down the elegant stairs of the utterly silent house. But just as I’m stepping around the corner, I crash right into someone.

I almost scream as I gasp and jump back a step. I fumble, looking up in time to see the guy with the haunted blue eyes and the dirty blonde hair staring back at me with confusion. But he suddenly drops his hands to his open shirt and starts to button it quickly. It’s not before I see the maze of brutal scars across his chest. But I don’t say anything as he finishes buttoning up to the collar.

I don’t know much about the other two Dark Princes who live here with Ilya. I know Misha, the party animal, is the son of some utterly insanely wealthy criminal Oligarch back in Russia. The guy I’m face to face with is Lukas Komarov, the son of a Bratva boss from Chicago, so I’ve heard.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt.

He frowns, but he shakes his head as he smiles thinly.

“Sorry to have scared you,” he growls with a voice that seems roughened beyond his young years. His dark blue eyes move over me, curiously.

“I’m—”

“I know who you are.”

I nod, not sure what to say. “Well, nice to meet—”

“Would you like some coffee?” He jerks his head towards the kitchen. “I just made a French press.”

I groan. Crafted press coffee is a serious weakness of mine. But I bite my lip, hesitating.

“Ilya is…” he frowns. “He’ll be gone for the morning.”

He smirks, like he knows this might actually tilt me towards staying. He’s right, too.

“I—” I smile. “Coffee would be great, thank you.”

I follow him wordlessly into the huge, gorgeous kitchen. Lukas gestures towards the marble countertop and the brass and matte-black bar stools lined against it. I take a seat as he sets the French press and two mugs between us and sits across the counter from me. He pours us each a slow cup.

“How do you take it?”

“Today? Black works.”

He smiles thinly and slides the mug my way. I lift it to my nose and groan as I inhale deeply.

“Thank you for this,” I mumble.

He nods, sipping his in silence.

“Sorry to be creeping through your house and bumping into you.”

He smirks. “It’s fine.”

We sip our coffee in silence.

“You’re okay?”

I smile as I look up at him. His voice is gruff, but the question is genuine, and without any sort of agenda like I might get from Ilya.

“Yeah…” I shrug, frowning into my coffee. “Just, you know…”

“I have an idea.”

My lips twist. “I just… sometimes it’s just a little overwhelming, being here, you know?”

“Very much so.”

I nod, taking another sip of coffee. “You’re Viktor Komarov’s son, right?”

“Yes.”

His brows knit as he glances into his mug.

“Adoptive, actually.”

My brows arch. “Oh?”

He nods. “So I get what it means to feel like an outsider.” He glances up at me. “It’s okay to know you are not from this world. I’m not.” He shrugs. “I’m not.”

It suddenly feels like the walls I’ve had around myself start to drop.

“It’s like, constant imposter syndrome, right?” I groan.

Lukas nods slowly. “At times, yes.”

“I mean all these kids came from money and power that I can’t even imagine! And even with Ilya, it’s like… he’s him, and I’m…” I roll my eyes. “I’ve never done any of this. I have no fucking idea what to do after a sleepover when you wake up alone in a bed. I have no idea what to say when he—”

I stiffen. Heat explodes on my face as I stare up at him in horror.

“Oh my God, I…” I pale. It’s like I was on fucking autopilot. Like I was venting to Char, and not Ilya’s friend.

I groan as I drop my face into my hands and quickly stand.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, Tenley,” Lukas growls quietly, halting me. I meekly turn to look at him.

“You’re allowed to be lost. You’re allowed to be out of your element. Especially a place full of vipers like Oxford Hills.”

I smile wryly.

“You do not have to be part of ‘their’ world.” He shrugs. “In fact, you probably never will be. I don’t say that to be defeatist, it’s just the way it is. Trust me, I know what it means to be from the outside.”

I nod, chewing on my lip. “Thank you.”

He nods back and then frowns slightly. “Ilya…” his eyes narrow. “Was he an asshole to you?”

I blush, but I shake my head. “No, he wasn’t.”

“I’m asking as his best friend. He can be…”

“Cold?”

Lukas smirks. “I was going to say a raging dickhead.”

I giggle as I shake my head.

“Yes, but no. He was…” I blush. “No, he wasn’t.”

Lukas nods.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“Any time. Nice talking to you, Tenley.”

“You too, Lukas,” I smile and turn for the door.

“Here.”

I turn back just in time to catch the black hoodie sweatshirt he tosses me.

“For the walk home,” he arches a brow at the party dress I’m still wearing.

I blush deeply. “Oh, right, yeah.”

I’ve never done a ‘walk of shame’ before.

“It’s Ilya’s.”

I smile as I slip it over my head. It comes down far enough to cover the hem of my dress. It actually looks like I could have just come from the gym, wearing a baggy sweatshirt over running shorts or something.

I smile at Lukas. “Thank you.”

He nods.

Outside Lordship Manor, I take a shaky breath. The sun is creeping up over the horizon. But slowly, a shadow crosses my face.

You’re allowed to be out of your element. Especially a place full of vipers like Oxford Hills.

I frown. I am out of my element. I’ve never slept over at anyone’s place. I’ve never had to walk back to my own place in the morning wearing the same slinky party dress from the night before. My lips purse.

And Ilya knew that. And still, he took me to his bed last night. He let me sleep there. And then this morning, he was gone.

I roll my eyes at myself.

That’s not on Ilya, though. That’s on me. I knew full well what he was when I came here last night. Ilya is…Ilya. The Wolf. A Dark Prince of Oxford Hills.

A cold-blooded hunter. And last night, I was his prey.

I scowl as I start to power-walk back across campus. Lukas was right. I am out of my element here—with every part of being here.

I’m not part of these worlds: not Patrick’s Golden Boy wealth and privilege. And not Ilya’s insidiously seductive world of darkness.

I don’t belong to either of those worlds, and I never will.

Just like I am never coming back to this fucking manor, or Ilya, again.