Nikolai Volkov Book Novels & Stories

“We do not share a bed, Katherine.” Yes, what was I even thinking? That just because we were mates, he would look at me differently. This was Nikolai Volkov. I was playing a dangerous game that might not even profit me in the end. “I do not spend my night on the beds of the women I fuck, Katherine.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. This was it, I knew what I was getting myself into when I decided to grace his bed. Men like Nikolai don't care about what happens, they only take until there's nothing left to give.

The Volkov security detail. Because Nikolai didn’t just have guards. He had a wall. When the elevator doors slid open onto the reserved floor, the hallway was silent and soft lit, expensive carpet swallowing sound. And there they were. Two security men standing outside Nikolai’s room like statues. Both in black suits. Both with earpieces. Both with the kind of faces that didn’t smile. The instant Damian’s men stepped off the elevator carrying a sleeping child, the Volkov guards stiffened. Hands moved subtly toward concealed weapons.

UCL library was full of dust and the faint smell of old paper, as well as a sharp contrast to the fresh efficiency of the lectures by Adrian Volkov. Nalia sat huddled in a corner booth, with tall heaps of books on the economic theory, and her pencil was scrawling angrily on pieces of notebook in an attempt to keep her mind focused away from the constant throb of Adrian's presence in her head. The voice, so low and commanding, of that good-looking man lingered within her ears and was a phantom touching in her flesh with prickly points of delight.

Every wolf knew about the blood moon. But had he known about the curse? Had he known what would happen to me? He left. He sealed the bond, and then he left. Without a word. Without a note. Without anything. "I see you're not sure," Lukas said softly. "Shut up." "Ela—" "I said shut up." Lukas didn't shut up. He never did. "Nikolai Volkov has wanted power his whole life," he said. "His father was the most powerful wolf in the academy. His grandfather was the most powerful wolf in Siberia. And Nikolai—" He smiled. "Nikolai has always been in their shadow."

Because now I understood something about Nikolai Volkov. Something dangerous. Something fascinating. He hadn’t come to destroy me. He had come to study me. And suddenly— I wanted to study him too and to hurt him for what he did but most of all make him mine. Il mio. Mine. And find the answers myself because there is something else to these. More than what meets the eye.

“Look. I want some information.” Alvin raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “Information, huh? That depends. What do you wanna know?” Nikolai hesitated for a second before leaning in and lowering his voice. “Who took the contract for Anastasia Volkov?” Alvin looked at Nik for a long moment before breaking into a laugh. He downed his drink, slamming the glass on the table. “I don’t think I heard that right.”

“And what about the Volkov boy? He has a knack for forming troublesome alliances.” I offered a slight smile, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “Nikolai Volkov is young. Ambitious. Predictable. He thinks strength comes from muscle, from loyalty, from that naïve idea of honor. But he forgets—true power lies not in brute force. It’s the pen that seals the fate. It’s the whispered word that spreads like wildfire. By the time he figures it out, he’ll be nothing but a ghost.” A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

I stood up and closed the book as I tried to explain. “I— I well, i— was just— you said I should find out!" I yelled in defense, holding up the book. Thankfully, I picked up a book called Mysteries so chances were he believed me. Nikolai pursed his lips then nodded. He walked further into the study and that was when I noticed he was in nothing but his suit jeans and his black shirt was unbuttoned. It looked like he came here in a rush. Nikolai walked up to the opposite shelf and pulled out a large black book. “Here. This contains everything about my pack. I'll get you another book on the mafia,” he said, holding the book forward. I drew my head back as I eyed the book and then him.

Nikolai Volkov is dead! The big boss blinked once, then slowly leaned forward in his chair. "Repeat that." "Nikolai Volkov is dead, sir," the man said, a grin forming. "The car exploded. He didn’t get out." A slow breath escaped from the boss's mouth, almost like a release he’d been waiting years for. He stood from his chair, stretching his stiff back, the tension in his shoulders fading. "Finally," he whispered. "Finally, the bastard is gone."

I turned to see Anya, one of the younger maids, standing frozen, her hands hovering over a pile of books she had just dropped. “Are you okay?” I asked. She nodded quickly. “Yes, Miss Isabella. I—I was just—” Her eyes flicked to something on the floor, and when I followed her gaze, I saw it. A small, leather-bound book. I bent down before she could react, picking it up. The cover was worn but elegant, and when I turned it over, I saw the name written in faded ink. Nadia Volkov. My heart stopped. I looked up at Anya, whose face had gone completely pale.