Chapter 4: His moy malen’kiy volk

Asa

The distinct click of the heavy office door locking behind him echoes through the room. I don't even notice Kirill move until his tall frame is towering over me, that dark, unhinged smirk of his sending adrenaline flooding through my entire body.

He brushes his knuckles along my face. His touch makes my body feel all sorts of things I don't want to name. I push his hand off.

"Touch me again and I will fucking kill you."

He chuckles, the sound deep and gravelly, making my traitorous body warm and fucking fuzzy. Stupid Omega biology.

"Well, your little defiance will only make this hotter, baby."

"I'm not your baby."

"Then what are you doing in my office at night if you didn't come to see me?" I turn my eyes to the side, my ears burning with embarrassment, and I don't answer because I'm sure he already knows the answer to that.

"You still haven't told me what you're doing here, anyway."

"Well, to find information to ruin you, of course."

A low chuckle escapes him.

"You don't have to act like a little thief, you know. All you had to do was ask."

He reaches into his pocket and tosses a small ring of keys onto the desk which I assume are for the locked drawer. They land between us with a metallic clink.

"Go on."

I frown at the keys.

Well... there can't be anything important in there if he's willingly giving them to me. Which means whatever I'm looking for isn't in that drawer. I'll have to find another way.

"Who are you exactly?" I ask instead. "I looked into you, and there isn't a single record of a hockey legend named Kirill Roman."

His smirk deepens.

"Interesting."

He folds his arms across his chest, studying me as though I've just confirmed something he'd already suspected.

"So you've spent the last two days investigating me."

I refuse to answer.

He doesn't seem to care.

"If you're looking for my coaching files, they're in the second drawer." He nods towards the desk. "Go ahead. See how hockey is actually played—not the little show you and your friends put on out there."

His confidence makes my stomach twist.

Either the drawer contains exactly what he says it does...

...or he's already made sure I'll never find what I'm really looking for.

For a long moment, neither of us moves.

It feels less like he's caught me breaking into his office...

...and more like he's been waiting for me to walk into it.

"Now back to where we were, baby."

"I said don't fucking call me that."

"It's okay if you don't let me call you baby. We don't need pet names when we're doing this, right?" He says it while getting so close we're practically breathing each other's air.

"You get your dick anywhere near me again and I will fucking cut it off." I try to sound as threatening and frightening as I can, though I don't think he gets the message, seeing as he's smiling now—a real, genuine smile, not the usual smirks he gives me. The smile distracts me for a moment, and he gets the chance to pick me up and set me on the table before positioning himself between my legs and placing his hands on my waist.

He looks at me, then at the bulge in his pants. "Your dirty talk is making me so hard, malen'kiy volk." He says it with that smirk back in place, the Russian heavy on the last word. Perv.

"Well, too bad. You're gonna have to find another way to deal with your little problem, because you won't be fucking me. Ever."

"Never say never, malen'kiy volk."

"I'm saying never. And the day I allow you to get this close to me again, I will change my last fucking name." I say it using all my will to push off the table and shove him away from me.

He stumbles back. "To what, exactly? Malen'kiy volk Roman?" My face heats and I want to punch this fucking idiot.

"Well, I like that idea, but you know what I like more? That sweet sc—"

He doesn't finish that sentence as I throw a punch at his jaw so hard my hand aches, but the asshole doesn't even flinch. How dare he. This man is evoking emotions and reactions I swore no Alpha would ever evoke in me. Maybe I should forget the revenge and just stay the fuck away from him.

As if reading my thoughts, Kirill pulls me to him and whispers in my ear. "You are the one who started this little game, so don't even think about running away. I don't mind flipping the fucking earth upside down just to find you."

I give him a hard kick to the groin before bolting for the door. Behind me, I can hear his sound of pain and an unhinged laughter that makes my spine prickle. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? Or more like, what have Hunter and his fucking drink gotten me into?

I don't hear half of what the professor says. My mind is still trapped inside Kirill's office. Come to think of it, I hadn't even gotten the chance to look at the drawer—the one that, unlike the others, he always locks. Or was that just another trap? Because he seemed to know I was looking into him.

"Grey."

I look up.

"Are you even listening?"

"Sorry."

The lecture continues, but Hunter leans over from the next seat.

"My old man is losing his mind," he mutters. "Some asshole just pulled a multi-million-dollar contract from the company. He's convinced someone's coming after us."

I shrug. "Sounds rough."

It isn't that I lack sympathy. I just can't find any. Not when Coach Kirill Roman has just made it painfully clear he can destroy my life with a single sentence. So I couldn't care less. I have my own shit to deal with. I even skipped the morning meeting with the team because I didn't want to see his face. Even now, after class, I'll head straight home, because there's no knowing what that psychopath could be up to. So I won't be returning to my dorm room until further notice. And don't get me wrong—this isn't running away. It's just retreating until I have a solid plan to take down the man who seems able to get into my mind and body and remove all traces of my suppressants without even trying.

So I need to stay away from him. And luck seems to be on my side, since the weekend is coming and I can go three days without seeing that prick.

That is, until a notification chimes and a message from an unknown number pops up.

Are you avoiding me, malen'kiy volk?