The Devil's Mercy

5. “Trouble”

The moment he pulled his coat away, I opened my mouth to gasp in fear, only to stop when I realized the rain had ceased. I shut my mouth quickly and turned my eyes to him. He was drenched from head to toe, while I stood there as if the rain hadn't even touched me. Startled by the wolf’s low growl, I took a sharp step back, and a cry of terror escaped my lips. My ankle twisted, a searing pain flashing through my mind, but before I could collapse into the mud, strong fingers clamped around my wrist, saving me.

The force of his grip pulled me forward, and my body slammed hard against his wet chest. Our faces were so close... I shivered as the moisture from his skin transferred to mine. His eyes looked at me with chilling indifference from beneath his furrowed brows, his breath ghosting over my parted lips, letting me taste his every exhale.

"You’re like a curse," he whispered. As his lips moved, I thought for a moment they might brush against mine. "Every time we meet, you bring nothing but trouble."

"I'm starting to take that personally..." I murmured, quite seriously.

Three months ago, being in the arms of the man people spoke of with terror—the Volkov—or speaking to him like this would have been a pure work of fiction. But now, his breath was mingling with mine.

When his gaze drifted from my eyes down to my lips, I felt myself break into a sweat down to my fingertips. The man who killed my fiancé was staring at my lips, and my heart was beating as if it were trying to escape my chest.

My God! What is happening to me?

How could fear and excitement coexist in the same heart? Especially when my heart had never felt a single spark of this excitement for Kai—only hatred.

"You're taking it personally?" he asked, as if questioning my sanity. His eyes were back on mine.

I breathed in his scent. It wasn't the typical masculine perfume; he smelled of the earth after a heavy rain. It was as if he were the earth itself, and the rain had soaked his essence into every fiber of his being.

"Uh-huh."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Looking at how comfortable you are, I’d think you don’t know who you're standing in front of... but you know very well." Had my ease with him irritated him?

Hah! I was anything but comfortable. I felt like I was about to die, and he thought I was relaxed?

"Valeria!"

The sound of my name snapped my attention away from the tension. I turned to my right. My brother. Derek Montoya. I went to speak, but the scene before him struck me dumb. I was in Dmitri Morozov’s arms—he was soaked, and I was perfectly dry. The situation was ripe for a dangerous misunderstanding.

Instinctively, I pushed Dmitri away. His sharp eyes flashed with a cold, unpleasant light in response. I looked away and hurried toward my brother, but Derek was staring only at Dmitri.

"What are you doing with my sister?" The raw anger in Derek’s voice made me flinch. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from my family?"

What? He said that? To the Volkov? I was completely in the dark, and it was starting to grate on my nerves.

"If I were one to take orders, I’d remember it," the Volkov replied, the implication clear. "As for your sister..." His eyes flickered back to me. "She’s a lovely girl. Exactly my type. But you know that, don’t you?"

"Dmitri!" Derek took a furious step forward, but the wolf’s growl forced him to stop.

"I wouldn't push him. He’s hungry."

Derek's fist unclenched, only to point a threatening finger at him. "Stay away from my sister, Volkov! If you try to drag her into your filthy games, I swear I’ll tear you and your games apart!"

The corner of Dmitri's mouth curled into a smirk, enjoying my brother’s rage. He didn't look even remotely afraid. Derek gripped my hand tightly and began to lead me away, turning his back on the Volkov.

"See you at the gala, Valeria!"

The sound of his voice—a declaration of war—made Derek’s anger flare again. But when I squeezed his hand in terror, he locked his eyes on mine and kept walking without a word.

I glanced over my shoulder one last time. Dmitri raised his hand in a mocking farewell. The smile on his face was anything but human. This man had dragged me into a game I never wanted to play, and I had signed a deal with the devil without even knowing the stakes.

My God! You must protect me from the devil.

As soon as we cleared the woods, my brother’s breathing grew heavy and sharp. He hadn't spoken a word until he suddenly came to a halt.

"You will not even cross his shadow!" The order was so cold and final, it felt as if he’d imprison me in my own shadow if I dared to say no.

"Were you friends with him?" I asked instead of answering. He shot me a glare, but I was right! They looked like old friends or bitter rivals.

"He was my brother."

A brother? More than a friend? Like family? My brother and Dmitri?

"You and Dmitri?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. He looked at me as if he wanted to bury me right there. "Don't be mad, Derek! If I told you Dmitri and I were 'brothers,' wouldn't you be shocked?"

"I wouldn't be shocked, because that bastard would definitely be up to some devilry!" he snapped with absolute certainty.

"Did he use you?" I asked, reaching the question I was most curious about.

"Enough, Valeria," he said, and I knew he wouldn't answer. "All you need to know is that he isn't human. Dmitri is like a baby snake; you think he's harmless and take him into your arms, and that’s exactly when he sinks his venom into your throat. He never lets go of a prey he’s marked. You will not be his prey."

"Of course I won't!" I said, acting so convincingly I almost wanted to applaud myself. "He can't use me or make me his prey! I am Valeria Montoya. Who does he think he is?" I tossed my hair back, but a heavy silence followed.

The look my brother gave me made me want to crawl into a hole and hide. If the great Volkov heard that, he’d probably double over laughing at this girl’s delusional confidence. Thank God he hadn't.

Within thirty minutes of getting home, I had summarized everything to Sarah.

"And that's it," I said finally, letting out a deep breath. "We have a deal."

Sarah was staring at me with her mouth wide open. It was a fair reaction.

"The Volkov..." she whispered, her brows shooting up. "Dmitri Morozov, heir to the Imperial Family... he protected you from the rain so you wouldn't get wet?" She stood up so fast I could barely follow her. "Wow! And he told your brother you were his type?"

"Are you an i***t, cousin?" I snapped, dousing her excitement. "The man told me to be a dead bride, act like my father is dead, and said the outcome is up to his mercy—and you're still talking about him protecting me and being his type? There are more important things here! He only said that to piss off my brother, obviously."

"Just be a dead bride for a year," she said simply, sitting back down. "Didn't you play the role of being 'happily in love' with that i***t Kai for years? Now you'll play a role again, but this time, it’s more about being persuasive. When Lady Morozov sees you, she shouldn't feel spite; she should feel pity and guilt. I have no doubt you can pull this off."

She was right. I could do this. I had become a great actress, but only when I wanted to be. I had been happy not to act for the last three months, but I guess that was over. I would continue this for a year to break the rod aimed at my father.

I hadn't told Sarah that Dmitri had killed his own father. I understood everything now, but I couldn't say that part. I trusted her more than anyone, but... Dmitri had told me, and it was a massive secret. It didn't feel right to share it.

"The real issue is tomorrow night," I said, as her eyes widened. "Tomorrow night is my first day as the dead bride."

Tomorrow night was the night I would either play my part perfectly or fail and face the Volkov’s wrath. It was my first time attending such a gala, and the risk of being killed by the host was fifty-fifty!

If I failed, I wouldn't be the only one to die, would I? My father would die with me—or perhaps even because of me.

Father... I will do everything in my power so you don't have to pay the price for a sin you didn't commit.

Even if it means going against the Volkov.