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Kind of hard not to be right now.
A sigh passes my lips. Although I know he’s right, nothing is ever that easy. “There’s so much I don’t know, Ezra. I should be better at all this.” I vaguely gesture at our surroundings. “I was raised here. I was born to be a part of this life. But I’m not...” I take a breath. “I’m not like you. Or Andrei. Or Mikhail. I’m just...me.”
A woman who doesn’t like to watch people get beat within an inch of their lives. My heart bleeds with others’ pain. I’m...soft, I guess.
All my men can put up a wall around their hearts when they need to.
I’m not sure that I can.
Ezra sits on a wooden bench and spreads his legs apart. With a grunt, he pats his thigh. “Sit.”
Once I’m settled, he holds me in place with a hand on my hip. “We are all made different. We are all trained different. You were raised to be princess, da?”
I nod. All my life, I’ve been told to be pretty and pure and silent. It’s not exactly conducive to ruling beside a pakhan...more like underneath him.
“I was raised to be killer.” Ezra’s eyes darken as all traces of light extinguish. He draws into himself for a brief moment, likely drowning in memories of his past.
His violent past.
Taking his large hand in mine, I trace the tattoos across his knuckles. The bruising from the other night has mostly faded, but I kiss them, anyway. It’s hard for me to imagine Ezra, my quiet, brooding bodyguard, as a man trained for bloodshed.
I hope I never have to see him in action.
“We are trained for different things, Valentina.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest. “It is okay. I do not want you...like me.” His head dips low against his chest as he draws a shaky breath. “You are light at end of dark tunnel.”
My heart breaks for this man. Gently, I lift his chin so that our eyes meet. There’s a cavern of sorrow etched within, a sorrow so deep that it’s impenetrable.
He lifts his palm to my cheek and draws me in. “You are beautiful, Valentina Baranova,” he whispers against my lips. “Beautiful enough to drive away darkness. I do not want you to change, but if you do... I will love every piece of you. As you are, and as you will be.”
He holds me in his arms with the gentle touch of a lover, a killer, a bodyguard, everything at once. Everything he is, and everything we will become.
I taste the darkness in his kiss and let it wash over me, just like he can feel my light. He groans into my mouth and lays me down on the mat, eager for more.
As he kisses down my body, murmuring praise in thick, heavy Russian in between each press of his lips, I stretch my arms over my head and grip the legs of the bench. He parts my thighs and settles his weight between them, sitting up on his knees to press the head of his length against my molten core.
As he claims me with a single, hard thrust, then again, and again, I find myself repeating the same phrase over and over and over, like a prayer on my lips.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Ezra responds to each one, matching me word for word and stealing my love, one precious heartbeat at a time.
Afternoon shooting practice goes much the same as the self-defense lessons—poorly.
“You need to be faster with loading the clip.”
“I’m trying. These things are tiny! I have small thumbs!”
Mikhail takes the magazine from me and loads it within seconds, popping each bullet into place with hard presses of his thumb. “Like this. See?”
I see, but that doesn’t mean I can do.
I cross my arms as he tries to hand the pistol back to me. “Shouldn’t I get a gun I actually like?”
“Handguns are the most common ones you’ll find. You need to learn to shoot one, then we can move on to the fun alternatives.” Mikhail grins at me, still holding the gun out for me to take. “Besides, you look badass with one, malyshka. It’s sexy as hell.”
Ezra grunts from the wall behind us. “Stay focused. We do not have much time until rehearsal.”
“What’s there to rehearse? Andrei stands at the altar, Valentina waltzes down the aisle with me?—”
