The Nightlife Moscow (Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Suspense) (The Nightlife Series Book 5) by Travis Luedke Page B
Authors: Travis Luedke
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another bloodslave. You know this. It’s not my reality, so you
can stop throwing it in my face.”
She softened instantly. Instead of rising to his rebellion,
she sucked him in with delicious caresses and a juicy kiss. “My poor, sweet
Aaron. It’s easy to forget how very young you are. So much power and potential,
so little experience. I would never compare you to Dmitri. You are not cut of the
same cloth, and for that I’m grateful. I only want you to acknowledge the
truth. This is the path to acceptance, enlightenment, wisdom. We must all face
who we are, or forever live a lie.”
As usual, to Aaron’s chagrin, Urvashi’s council was sound. Her
seduction irresistible.
* * * *
Aaron caught Ivan coming out the door to Michelle’s room
with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and his hands still working to
tuck his shirt into his half-buttoned jeans. A look of guilty apprehension
crossed Ivan’s face for a moment, then his grin resumed. He clapped Aaron on
the shoulder. “I think she is good. Like new again.”
He positively stunk of Michelle. Not just her perfume, but
her scent. The unique flavor of her body. Aaron had tasted every inch of
Michelle, and he knew that scent, intimately.
Aaron smiled back at Ivan. “I never doubted she’d recover
quickly. But will you?”
The big man paled and his eyes darted away from Aaron’s
piercing gaze. “I only gave her a little taste of blood. She is careful, no?”
Ivan looked worried.
“Sure thing. She’s more careful than I am. Just make sure
you’re careful too.” Aaron nodded at him and Ivan finished buttoning his pants.
“I have been dealing with vampires for a very long time.
Didn’t Katya tell you about Dmitri? Come, sit. Michelle is fine. Let me tell
you a story of Russia that’s not in the history books.” The wily old wolf
walked with freshly-fucked swagger as Aaron followed him over to the table.
Ivan pulled the cap off a half-full bottle of vodka, took a swig, and glanced
back at Aaron. “Well, it is Katya’s story, but I can tell you the beginning,
before she became involved.”
Aaron sat down for this. Ivan held his full, undivided
attention.
“You know of the royal family? The Czar, his wife, and their
son, Alexie?”
Aaron nodded. “Yeah, only what’s in the history books. I got
a C in history. They were killed by the Bolsheviks or something, right?”
Ivan snickered. “Or something. It all began with the man
named Rasputin.”
* * * *
Chapter 8
“Historians call Rasputin a gypsy, a con artist. Some even
said he was a vagrant. None of them understood the power of the man I knew, his
charisma, his generosity of spirit. He was a born leader – not of countries or
politicians – a leader of friends and family. People came to him to solve
problems. He was the alpha of our pack, our leader. He was my father.”
Aaron could hardly swallow the idea that Ivan was related to
this infamous historical figure. “You mean biological father?”
“No.” Ivan chugged a couple more swigs of vodka and wiped
his mouth with the back of his hand. “He gave me the gift of his blood, the
gift of the wolf. Saved my life.”
Now that, Aaron could identify with. Michelle’s blood had
saved Aaron’s life, literally. Blasted in the chest from a police handgun,
Aaron had been bleeding to death in Michelle’s arms when she made the decision
to give him her blood.
“I had pneumonia. Often fatal in those days. On my death
bed, Rasputin gave me new life. In return, I pledged my life to his service, to
the pack.”
A sense of reverence poured off Ivan as he spoke of Rasputin
as though he’d been an anointed saint. Ivan’s eyes twinkled in reminiscence.
“Mother Russia was a very different place then. Life was hard and the nobility
held little respect for the rest of the country, but I wonder if it was a better
time than this post-Soviet mess we have now.”
Ivan downed another gulp of vodka. “We
can stop throwing it in my face.”
She softened instantly. Instead of rising to his rebellion,
she sucked him in with delicious caresses and a juicy kiss. “My poor, sweet
Aaron. It’s easy to forget how very young you are. So much power and potential,
so little experience. I would never compare you to Dmitri. You are not cut of the
same cloth, and for that I’m grateful. I only want you to acknowledge the
truth. This is the path to acceptance, enlightenment, wisdom. We must all face
who we are, or forever live a lie.”
As usual, to Aaron’s chagrin, Urvashi’s council was sound. Her
seduction irresistible.
* * * *
Aaron caught Ivan coming out the door to Michelle’s room
with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and his hands still working to
tuck his shirt into his half-buttoned jeans. A look of guilty apprehension
crossed Ivan’s face for a moment, then his grin resumed. He clapped Aaron on
the shoulder. “I think she is good. Like new again.”
He positively stunk of Michelle. Not just her perfume, but
her scent. The unique flavor of her body. Aaron had tasted every inch of
Michelle, and he knew that scent, intimately.
Aaron smiled back at Ivan. “I never doubted she’d recover
quickly. But will you?”
The big man paled and his eyes darted away from Aaron’s
piercing gaze. “I only gave her a little taste of blood. She is careful, no?”
Ivan looked worried.
“Sure thing. She’s more careful than I am. Just make sure
you’re careful too.” Aaron nodded at him and Ivan finished buttoning his pants.
“I have been dealing with vampires for a very long time.
Didn’t Katya tell you about Dmitri? Come, sit. Michelle is fine. Let me tell
you a story of Russia that’s not in the history books.” The wily old wolf
walked with freshly-fucked swagger as Aaron followed him over to the table.
Ivan pulled the cap off a half-full bottle of vodka, took a swig, and glanced
back at Aaron. “Well, it is Katya’s story, but I can tell you the beginning,
before she became involved.”
Aaron sat down for this. Ivan held his full, undivided
attention.
“You know of the royal family? The Czar, his wife, and their
son, Alexie?”
Aaron nodded. “Yeah, only what’s in the history books. I got
a C in history. They were killed by the Bolsheviks or something, right?”
Ivan snickered. “Or something. It all began with the man
named Rasputin.”
* * * *
Chapter 8
“Historians call Rasputin a gypsy, a con artist. Some even
said he was a vagrant. None of them understood the power of the man I knew, his
charisma, his generosity of spirit. He was a born leader – not of countries or
politicians – a leader of friends and family. People came to him to solve
problems. He was the alpha of our pack, our leader. He was my father.”
Aaron could hardly swallow the idea that Ivan was related to
this infamous historical figure. “You mean biological father?”
“No.” Ivan chugged a couple more swigs of vodka and wiped
his mouth with the back of his hand. “He gave me the gift of his blood, the
gift of the wolf. Saved my life.”
Now that, Aaron could identify with. Michelle’s blood had
saved Aaron’s life, literally. Blasted in the chest from a police handgun,
Aaron had been bleeding to death in Michelle’s arms when she made the decision
to give him her blood.
“I had pneumonia. Often fatal in those days. On my death
bed, Rasputin gave me new life. In return, I pledged my life to his service, to
the pack.”
A sense of reverence poured off Ivan as he spoke of Rasputin
as though he’d been an anointed saint. Ivan’s eyes twinkled in reminiscence.
“Mother Russia was a very different place then. Life was hard and the nobility
held little respect for the rest of the country, but I wonder if it was a better
time than this post-Soviet mess we have now.”
Ivan downed another gulp of vodka. “We
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