Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I just need her.
It hits me hard. And I swallow. My fingers move up to touch her face.
“You are my wife,” I tell her. “You should not be speaking with Nikolai unless I am present. You should not be speaking with him at all.”
She looks up at me, and my hope that those words would serve as an explanation for my behavior dissipates quickly.
Her eyes are glassy. Vulnerable. And soft.
“You let him touch me,” she whispers. “You didn’t protect me from him. Your star didn’t protect me either, and you promised.”
My hand shakes with the force of my anger as I examine her, digesting her words. “Nikolai touched you?”
“No.” She blinks up at me. “Dmitri did.”
I am certain I misunderstood her. Misread her lips somehow. But as I examine her, I know that is not the case.
Dmitri is Russian, but he is not a Vor. He could only be considered an associate, at best. He had no business being at that party. I only know of him from my research when I was searching for Talia. But I need her to confirm it. To confirm what it is I believe to be true.
“He sold you.”
Her fingers dig into my arms, clinging to me. “I thought he was my boyfriend,” she admits. “I thought… and you promised this would protect me.”
The words die off, and only her pain remains. She is touching my name. Gutting me with her words. My failure.
“Tell me what he did. At the party.”
“He found me in the bathroom,” she answers. “He said he would retrieve me for Arman. Soon.”
My rage cannot be contained. I am holding her too tight, but she does not protest. She does not say a word even when I have drawn breath and calmed myself.
“That is all you ever had to say, my sweet.”
I reach for her hand and place it on my chest. Over the very star tattoo that makes me who I am. I hope she will understand that by swearing on it, my words mean everything. My honor. My loyalty.
She has it.
“Do you feel that?” I ask her.
My heart beats beneath her palm, my chest expanding with every breath. She feels it like a child, with soft fingers that flutter over my skin in the same rhythm.
“Yes,” she answers.
“As long as there is breath in me, as long as my heart beats, I will protect you, Solnyshko. You will remain by my side for all the days of my life. And even after my death, you will have others watching out for you. This, I can assure you.”
She blinks up at me with worried eyes. “You can’t die.”
I don’t argue with her. She does not yet understand the Vory way. That these words are my promise to her. That death is not something to fear, but to be honored.
She fears losing me.
And right now, nothing else matters. I know there is only one thing to do. Now that she has confirmed it. I know what must be done.
But first, I must repent my sins. I must make her forgive me for the things I always said I wouldn’t do. That I would never be like my father. The way I was with her that night.
I failed her.
She is right. I promised to protect her. And instead, I have shamed her. And left her vulnerable while I was blinded by my anger.
“I will never allow that to happen again,” I assure her as my lips meet hers. “I am sorry, Solnyshko. I am sorry that I failed you.”
She cups my face in her palms and kisses me. Hungry. Needy. Just as I am for her.
I roll her onto her back and quickly dispose of her clothing. Leaving her naked and exposed and vulnerable only to me. The way that she should be.
I kiss my way down her body, murmuring my apologies as I go.
“You should be worshipped every day,” I tell her. “And I am sorry that you have not been.”
When I reach the apex of her thighs, she opens for me without being asked. My woman is shy and sad and sometimes broken, but she is open for me. Still willing to give me a chance. I thank her, and then I bury my face between her legs. Eating her out. Tasting her. Fucking her with my tongue and grinding her hips onto my face.
“Today you will come just like this,” I tell her. “Give in to me, my angel. Allow me to pleasure you without any pain.”
I know I don’t deserve to ask this of her right now, but I want this of her right now. And she gives in to me, just as I ask. She relaxes and simply feels, for once. Without any shame. When she comes, it is cathartic for both of us. The pleasure she needed that I was able to give to her. And then her eyes are on me. Pleading at the same time her mouth does.