- Dimitri Sokolov:
This morning started like any other, though my mind was anything but calm.
After waking up, I dragged myself to the bathroom, washed up quickly, and headed straight for the kitchen.
I needed to keep myself busy—keeping my hands occupied somehow helped keep my thoughts at bay.
Breakfast seemed like the perfect distraction, especially since I was making it not only for myself but for my brother and Nikolai.
Yesterday, though.
Yesterday was… something else.
I still couldn't wrap my head around it. It wasn't supposed to go the way it did.
All I'd planned to do was watch. That's it. Just sit on the sidelines and enjoy the view.
But when Nikolai caught my gaze—those piercing eyes inviting me in—it was like my body acted on instinct. I couldn't resist him. I didn't want to.
And so, I joined him and my brother.
We had sex.
It wasn't just sex—it was the best sex of my entire life.
Nothing could ever come close to how incredible it felt, how perfect it was.
Yesterday was, without a doubt, the best day I've ever had.
But now? Now my head was spinning with questions. Was it a one-time thing? Did Nikolai want me to be part of this relationship, or was it just about my brother? Was I just a third wheel to spice things up, a fleeting indulgence for him?
If it was only about my brother, though, why had Nikolai looked at me like that? Why had he practically begged me with his eyes to join them? Maybe it was all physical—just lust, nothing deeper. But still… why did it feel so much more?
I couldn't stop overthinking it as I made breakfast. My hands moved mechanically—cracking eggs, flipping pancakes, brewing coffee—but my mind was elsewhere, spiraling with uncertainty and stress.
Then, just as I felt like I'd drive myself insane with my thoughts, Nikolai and Alexei appeared.
He sat at the table with my brother, eating the breakfast I'd prepared.
And then, as he stood to leave, he kissed me. It wasn't a long kiss or even a particularly passionate one, but it was enough.
It was his way of saying, ' You're with us.' or 'You're mine too.'
Relief washed over me in waves. This wasn't a fleeting moment, wasn't just about sex.
This was the beginning of something real, something serious.
Nikolai and my brother wanted this to be something lasting, something meaningful. And I wanted that, too.
As they left, saying they were going to visit some friends and family, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Nikolai.
The poor baby had been trapped in this house for a week, terrified that his psychotic husband would find him and drag him back into his twisted world.
He deserved some freedom, a chance to breathe and feel normal again.
-
Once they were gone, I finished cleaning up the dishes and tidied the dining room.
My thoughts wandered to the other pressing matter at hand—the wolf shifter in the basement.
Damon.
He was probably starving by now, and honestly, the thought of him sitting down there, hungry and angry, brought a smile to my face.
I quickly whipped up something for him.
But, of course, I wasn't planning to be kind. No, I had a little plan to make his misery even more satisfying. Smiling to myself, I carried the plate downstairs.
The door to the basement was wide open—I'd left it that way intentionally. I wanted Damon to hear everything.
Every moan, every whisper, every laugh from last night. From the kitchen to the bedroom, I wanted him to know exactly what had happened.
The second I stepped into the dimly lit basement, I saw him.
There he was, chained like the beast he was, glaring blankly at the wall. He looked like hell—his eyes bloodshot, his face pale from lack of sleep.
"Oops," I said, feigning surprise. "Did I leave the doors open? My bad."
Damon's head snapped toward me, his eyes blazing with rage. Oh, he knew it wasn't an accident.
I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his fists clenched.
"You heard that?" I added casually, my tone dripping with mock innocence.
His glare intensified, pure hatred burning in his gaze. It was delicious.
He didn't need to say a word—I knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted to kill me. Kill me and my brother for what we'd done with his husband.
And then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
Not a normal laugh—no, this was the kind of laugh that sent chills down your spine. Maniacal, unhinged.
"Oh, I'm so going to kill you," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. "You and your brother."
It was my turn to laugh. "Well," I said, smirking, "you'll have to take care of yourself first. Then we'll see if you can manage it."
I held up the plate of food I'd brought, hiding my glee as his eyes flicked to it. "Hungry?" I asked, my voice mockingly sweet.
"Fuck you," he spat.
I chuckled, revealing the plate of cheese, beans, and toast. "I heard British people love this dish," I said in the best British accent I could muster. "Thought you'd like it. What do you think?"
Damon's face twisted in disgust.
Perfect. Nikolai had mentioned once that Damon hated this meal more than anything, which was precisely why I'd made it.
"Your British accent sucks," he muttered, his tone dripping with contempt.
I grinned. "First try. Maybe I'll improve the more time I spend with you."
"Fuck. You."
My expression hardened, the playful tone vanishing from my voice. "You know," I said, stepping closer, "I was trying to be nice. But since you're being so rude…"
From behind my back, I revealed the real pièce de résistance—a dog bowl.
Damon's eyes narrowed as I crouched down, unceremoniously dumping the beans, cheese, and toast into the bowl.
"Eat," I commanded, my voice cold.
The look on his face was pure, unfiltered rage. It was glorious.
After I told him to eat, I could see the fury ignite in Damon's eyes. It wasn't just anger—it was primal, feral rage.
He glared at me with such hatred that, for a brief second, I wondered if he'd try to lunge at me.
Of course, he couldn't. He was chained like the beast he was, but that didn't stop him from trying.
He started pulling at the chains with all his strength, muscles straining as he thrashed against them like a wild animal.
The metal links clanged and groaned, but they held firm.
He growled under his breath, his frustration building with each failed attempt to break free.
And then, suddenly, something shifted in his expression.
It was almost as if he'd had an epiphany. His anger turned to determination, and I knew right then that he was planning something.
Before I could even guess what, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to shift.
I couldn't help but smirk.
Oh, he thought this was his big escape, didn't he?
He must've believed that shifting into his wolf form would make him bigger, stronger—strong enough to snap the chains and get away.
Fool.
He didn't realize what our steel is capable of.
I stayed perfectly still, watching him like a predator watching its prey.
His body began to tremble, and I could see the shift starting to take over.
His face contorted as his jaw elongated, his teeth sharpening into fangs.
His hands were morphing into claws, and patches of fur started to sprout across his skin.
He groaned, his voice deepening into a guttural growl as his transformation progressed.
But then, something changed.
Right in the middle of his shift, it was like his body hit a wall.
The fur receded, his claws dulled back into human fingernails, and his snout shrank back into his face.
He gasped, a choked sound of agony, as he was forced back into his human form.
He collapsed to the cold floor, panting heavily, his body shuddering with exhaustion and pain.
I chuckled darkly, taking a step closer to him. "Good try, Damon," I said, my voice dripping with mockery.
"That was impressive. But guess what? You're stuck with me. Those chains you're wearing? Dragon steel. You can't shift while they're on. Your wolf is too big—-you are never going to get free."
Damon whimpered in agony, clutching his sides as he rolled onto his back, glaring up at me with a mixture of hatred and despair.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," I continued, crouching down to meet his gaze. "I'm in control here. I tell you what to do and what not to do. You don't get to make the rules. Not anymore."
He didn't respond, just kept glaring at me, his breathing labored.
I smirked, leaning in closer. "You're not going anywhere, Damon. And you better get comfortable with that idea because, as far as I'm concerned, you're mine now. Every move you make, every breath you take—it's all under my control."
I stood back up, looking down at him with satisfaction. "Oh, and one more thing," I added, gesturing toward the dog bowl on the floor.
"Your breakfast is getting cold. I'd eat it if I were you. Wouldn't want you wasting away down here, would we?"
Damon let out a low growl, his lips curling back in a sneer, but I could see the helplessness in his eyes.
He hated this. He hated me. But most of all, he hated that I was right.
I turned to leave, laughing softly to myself. "Enjoy your meal, Damon," I said over my shoulder. "We've got plenty of time to get to know each other better."