Fyodor X Nikolai Novels & Stories

They are both fuccking wealthy and are only doing this for fun. Nikolai reaches out for his glass of vodka and has been rejecting the cigar Mikhail has been offering to him. He has stopped smoking. I noticed that. Alexei is the only one who does not naturally smoke among us. I'm not a heavy smoker. Nikolai and Mikhail are, or Nikolai was. He has changed. “Isn't that Viktor's nanny?” Alexei suddenly asks and my eyes travel in a direction. I tilt my head and I look through the transparent glass to see Milana with her friend Zoya and two other men. And what is she wearing? Why is she even here?

Nikolai interrupted, his face contorting with a primal rage. ​Nikolai didn't wait for an explanation. He didn't care about rules of engagement or Western politics. Elena was dying in a silent tower because of me. With a terrifying explosion of alpha speed, Nikolai leaped from the top of the thirty-foot fortress wall, landing heavily in the snow before me.

"Konstantin." As if electrocuted, Dostov released his bite with a slight surge and then looked up at Alice. Nick's blood flowed slowly from his fangs into his jaw. I don't know why Alice called him Konstantin, or how she knew Dostov. The only thing I know is that both of them are from Russia. Dostov stood up from his spot and took a step toward Alice, the expression on his face contrasting with his age. Dostov is one of the oldest Volders alive, and when you get as old as Dostov controlling emotions becomes as easy as breathing. Expression is weakness, if your enemy can read the expression on your face he can beat you easily.

As useless as ever, I stood and watched. "I won't give you an out." He hissed. "The both of you insulted me in front of everyone. I will do the same. I want the King of Mozog and Fire at my feet. Kneel." Xillian hissed. Nikolai let out a growl and one by one, I saw thousands men in armour run towards us in background. "Leave no Ovzdusian alive," Nikolai growled out his command and in the next second, I saw one warrior behead a woman.

Nikolai stands close to Rosa with his arm around her back and hand resting on her hip. His hair is bright blond and medium length, curling just over the lapel of his smart dress shirt, partly covering a dark tattoo that disappears beneath it. His skin is pale, and his blue eyes are icy as he regards me warily, his free hand shoved into the pocket of his black pants. Alexander clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. “You should be careful about who you make friends with.” He glares at Natalya hatefully, but there’s something else in his eyes too. Desire, perhaps?

Claws of dread wrapped around my throat and i couldn't breathe. "You being foolish , Aleksander. All of this potential war with the Genoseve family, just so you own the Prima ballerina of New York? Is your sense of entitlement and your over grown ego bigger than your head?", Nikolai's voice rose over a whisper, growing almost into a shout. I didn't understand what he was saying. Nevertheless my heart was beating painfully in my chest and my limbs were cold. Nikolai could be harsh but his words now we're frightening.

“Sit with me.” They sat in the dining room and began tasting the dishes together. Sandra asked suddenly, “What’s your favorite food? Color? Movie? Hobby?” Natalia laughed. “Mother, you don’t need to—” “I do,” Sandra insisted softly. “I missed too much.” Natalia’s smile faltered into something tender. “Okay… my favorite food is pelmeni. My favorite color is blue. I don’t really have a favorite movie. And my hobby?” She grinned. “Fighting. Dedushka trained me, even though he refused to let me fight in real battles. Said it was only for my protection.”

“You’re flirting with death. I’m not the only person who could take you down.” The accusation sticks tighter than it would have before El, before the heartbeat in that little office, but I sip my coffee like his words don’t mean a thing to me. The waitresses don’t seem to give a fuck about our little scuffle, at least. “Do you have anything other than threats?” I ask. Henry sighs. “Fyodor’s not a totally uncommon name, but I did some digging, and I was able to connect it to a guy called Raskolnikov, who dropped off the map in Russia about a month before Fyodor started moving over here.”

He was basically ruining the purpose of spending Fifth million in charity. Aleksandr Fedorov was breaking his image He had established as a Billionaire, at this moment He was nothing else than The Bratva Pakhan. The merciless monster. The man whose name was whispered with fear in the whole Russian And Chicago. And New York was soon going to learn to follow their lead.

I watched him from a distance, feeling the vast chasm between our worlds wider than ever. He was a king preparing for a siege, and I was just the girl who had cleaned his wounds in a one-bedroom apartment. Suddenly, a hand gripped my shoulder. I gasped, spinning around to find Nikolai standing behind me. He looked even more disheveled than he had at the cabin, his grey eyes wide and flickering with a restless, manic light. “The martyr and the monster,” Nikolai whispered, looking past me toward Ivan. “He thinks he can save you and the empire at the same time. He is a fool.”