Throne of Power (Throne Duet #1) Read Online Rina Kent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, New Adult, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Throne Duet Series by Rina Kent
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
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I dart my tongue out and lick her upper lip, then feast on her lower one. She tastes like addiction and bad decisions, and yet I would still come back for a hit every day.

Rai places a hand on my chest, letting out a protest, but I use the chance to plunge my tongue inside her mouth. Her arguments turn into a moan when I twirl my tongue against hers.

Her eyes widen at the sounds coming from her, and I wish I could freeze this moment in time so I could revisit it every day.

Who knew we would have our first kiss here?

I don’t release her, not even when murmurs break out among the crowd, or when the priest keeps clearing his throat like he has a bad cough.

Fuck them.

The only person who matters in this room is in my arms, hot, bothered, and fucking mine. Now, I need to keep my promise about the consummation part.

The church’s glass breaks and screams fill the space.

I freeze for a fraction of a second.

Well, fuck.

I was too lost in my new bride and I momentarily forgot about the mission. That’s a first.

I begrudgingly release Rai’s lips and grab her arm, pulling her behind me as everyone brings out their weapons.

Let the chaos begin.

10

Rai

Screams fill the air.

Soon after, an influx of different languages mix and rise in volume until almost none of them are intelligible.

Women squeal as leaders bark orders at their guards. Guns rise high in the air, and the sound of outside gunshots gets everyone’s attention.

It takes a second for the rest of the Vory and me to realize who could be behind this.

The Irish.

Everyone is taking refuge, including the crime family leaders and their companions.

Kyle is dragging me toward where the priest has disappeared to. I twist my hand free from his, lift my dress, and run in the direction of Sergei and Anastasia. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving my family to die while I save my own neck.

Ruslan and Katia are by my side in a second, their expressions alert and their guns in hand.

I find Granduncle covering Anastasia while Igor, Mikhail, and Kirill surround them in a circle, their guns held taut in their arms. They at least have the loyalty to protect the boss.

Damien is running straight outside, pushing people out of his way and checking his gun’s magazine on the way. His men follow after him like a storm ready to erupt.

Adrian, on the other hand, is standing with the Italians. His gun, although drawn, is hanging limply by his side as if he knows he won’t get the chance to use it.

I’m about to yell at him for not coming to protect Sergei, but the view of blood stops me. Lazlo, the leader of the Lucianos and one of the most important heads of the Camorra, has been shot.

I don’t have time to focus on that as I grab Sergei by the shoulder. Anastasia gets to her feet as well, expression fearful and skin pale, but she’s not crying like she used to do when we were young.

“Come on,” I urge. “Let’s get you out of here, Ded.”

“Like fuck you’re taking him away,” Mikhail snarls in my face, looking ready to direct his weapon at me.

“The outside isn’t safe yet,” Igor says, agreeing. “We can’t get the boss out before Damien or Vladimir return.”

“I’m not taking him away.” I motion to where the priest went. “Old churches have hiding places.” I throw a glance behind me, thinking Kyle disappeared, but a deep part of me, an irrational one, holds on to the hope that he didn’t.

“They do.” His voice comes swift and calm from beside me as he checks his gun. “Follow me.”

Mikhail grunts but complies when our guards and we form a circle around Sergei, Anastasia, and Mikhail’s and Igor’s wives, each person facing a different angle as we move in unity toward the hideout.

Kyle attempts to push me inside, but I lift my dress, retrieve my gun from the holster attached to my thigh, and jut my chin at him. He shakes his head but quits trying to push me.

We take a few turns, following his lead, and then descend old, narrow stairs that only accommodate two people at a time. The commotion from outside slowly withers away as we go down slowly.

When we reach a secluded room in the basement, Sergei is panting. His face has paled, and I know it’s because he’s holding in his cough. If he has a fit and blood comes out in front of the others, it’ll be bad.

We find the priest praying silently in a corner. I help sit Sergei down in a chair beside him without making it so noticeable. Anastasia joins him, holding on to his arm like it’s a lifeline.

Mikhail’s wife is trembling noticeably. Igor’s wife, Stella, however, seems completely in control of the situation. She stands beside her and holds her hand, whispering what I assume are soothing words. Stella has always seemed like a tough cookie who, although she shouldn’t belong in the Bratva world, has managed to fully adapt to Igor’s lifestyle.


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