Ruthless King (Ruthless Warlords #1) - Alison Aimes Page 0,3

or without her consent.

Her bowed position made it impossible to do anything but stare out at the spectacle beyond her cell. Floating overhead were twelve two-story windows arranged in a circle, each lit from within by a blood-red light that illuminated a massive throne—and the more imposing figure sitting within.

These males were the twelve most ruthless crime lords in the galaxy.

These were the Alphas who controlled the fate of every single inhabitant unlucky enough to be born into the rot and sin of the Anarcheim Alphaverse.

She’d never felt more insignificant than when bowed at their feet.

Drawn by an invisible force, her gaze rose to the window directly across the way.

Piercing amber eyes bore into hers.

Him.

The Ruthless King.

The title the Brotherhood had given him was carved into his throne and was reflected in every merciless line of his body.

Even now, after so many years, she recognized him. The boy was gone but not the mesmerizing power or the breathtaking handsomeness that had been his birthright. The scars on his neck, chest, and hands only added to his air of danger.

Gorgeous. Brutal. Huge. Red-Skinned. Horned. Nikolai Skolov was still the most beautiful Alpha she’d ever seen. With thick sloping brows, wavy jet-black hair, powerful onyx horns that curled behind his ears, a square jaw, and full sensual lips, his face was a masculine masterpiece. The five o’clock shadow that covered his stunning face blended perfectly with the rugged black skin designs on his cheeks and neck, a common trait of all Skolovs.

He was far bigger than he’d once been—larger than Olan—and his bulging arms, bare, sculpted chest, and carved abdomen were equally mouthwatering, framed by the dark fur pelt that hung off his wide shoulders and stayed strapped to his body by wide leather bands that crisscrossed down his taut stomach. The swirling skin designs that dipped beneath the waistband of his dark animal hide pants only added to his dangerous, barbaric look, as did the heavy, black boots that laced to his calves.

He was striking. Wild. Fierce. And for one brief, incredible moment years ago, she’d thought he might be her savior.

Until he became her family’s greatest enemy.

His lips pulled back into a snarl, his fangs flashing.

And she knew whatever was happening to her now was in no way better than the horrible fate she might have suffered as the prime omega of the eldest Verish son.

She understood, too, exactly why she was here and how futile it had been to believe escape might be possible.

She and her whole family were going to pay.

2

Nikolai’s claws dug into the arm of his throne, five thick grooves denting the metal, his balls heavy, his cock hard as stone.

Finally.

He only wished he could see her clearly as she bowed at his feet. Scent her. Touch her.

But the thick, dark shatterproof glass that separated all the Alpha heads was designed not only to protect from assassination attempts but to muzzle their senses and dampen their aggressive instincts, thereby preventing them from tearing each other apart. Though it barely seemed to be working now.

The gouges in his throne’s armrests grew as his claws tunneled deeper. The burn scars on his chest and arms pulled tight.

Soon.

His plans were so close to fruition he could almost taste victory.

Shoving his hand into his pocket, he fingered the chain tucked inside. His thumb traced the well-worn grooves of the necklace.

Soon.

“The meeting of the Brotherhood has begun. Alpha Nikolai Skolov and Alpha Olan Lundin, stand.” The disembodied voice of Inner Council Head, Valf Prendel, echoed through Nikolai’s sealed room, as it did for the eleven other crime heads staring out from their private chambers.

Nikolai stood, tearing his gaze away from the omega to stare at the smug, bearded face of his greatest enemy.

He could not wait to wipe that look from Olan’s face.

Actually, he could not wait to wipe out Olan altogether.

“You all know why we are here.” As Inner Council head, the Prendel crime head ran all Brotherhood meetings, his slime-based races’ love of efficiency coupled with an inability to feel emotion, making him the perfect bureaucracy head. “The feud between the Skolovs and Lundins has gone on long enough. Vendettas and discord are a way of life, but this grudge has boiled over into a galaxy-wide territorial dispute that has begun to impact all our profits. That cannot be allowed.”

Nikolai hid a smirk. There was nothing the Brotherhood hated more than a threat to their bottom line.

Prendel droned on, his green, gelatinous body oozing and contracting as he spoke.