“If you ever want to finish that piece, I know a guy who could help you out.” Brax’s eyes drop to the snake skin dangling off an unmarked family crest on the lower half of my right arm, unaware the crest is empty for a reason.
I didn’t discover my true birthright until I was well into my teens, but even before then, I never felt like a Popov. That’s why the family crest in my tattoo is void of an identity. I want it to represent who I am, not the lie I was born into. That emblem will now include Justine and our baby. . . and perhaps my trusty knife.
“Maybe one day.”
Justine’s smile makes it seem as if I said more than I did. She knows I’m not a fan of small talk, particularly when it’s with a man not related to her by blood, but her smile exposes my efforts will be well rewarded. That alone lightens the weight of my knife in my pocket.
The dust has barely settled from Brax and Ryan’s departure when Justine slings her arms around my neck to seal her lips over mine. She kisses me greedily, as if she has been deprived of my taste for centuries instead of minutes.
“I knew there was a good man hiding inside of you,” she talks over my lips before playfully nipping at their slight curve.
Dropping my hands to her ass, I squeeze her rounded globes softly, almost teasingly. “You won’t be saying that when I take you on the hood of my car in front of your parents.”
Justine’s mouth gapes. “You wouldn’t dare be so crude. My father would have a coronary.”
With a wink revealing she’s secretly hoping I’ll make good on my threat, she skips toward the fleet of SUVs waiting for us. My acceptance of her past makes her even more eager to get the party started. We have matters much more exciting than Maddox’s release to celebrate.
Although we had planned not to share news of Justine’s pregnancy until after the scan Dok scheduled, Landon isn’t known for his secret-keeping. Aware it will only be a matter of time before her family is updated, Justine would rather she tell them instead of Landon, so we’ve decided to announce our news after dinner.
It’s going to be a night of surprises in the Walsh household.
10
Not willing to put Justine inthe line of fire, I demand she travel with me instead of her family. While Roman updates the drivers on our new location, Justine hugs Maddox goodbye as if she’ll lose the opportunity for another five years.
Although Maddox has a lot of questions to answer, his years in hell are over. I’ve never seen Justine’s eyes as intense as they’ve been this morning, so you can be assured I’ll do everything to keep them as lively. The happier my drug is, the stronger my addiction will become.
Justine’s excitement thrums out of her in invisible waves the first ten miles of our trip, but her mouth remains tightlipped. . . until our driver misses the exit for Hopeton.
“That was our exit.” She nudges her head to the A345 slip road our SUV is roaring past before focusing her attention on the driver. “Take the next one, then make a U-turn. We can only get to Hopeton one way.”
My teeth grit as I’m reminded why my endeavor to keep her safe has been so time-consuming. I don’t know what fuckwit thought it was a good idea to only have one entrance and exit point for Hopeton, but it’s been a thorn in my ass the past three days. It’s fortunate there are several airstrips located within the town borders, or Justine’s wish to go home would have never been granted. If I had no backup plan to evacuate her in case of an emergency, our travel plans would have ceased in an instant.
Justine stops glaring at the ignorant driver when I disclose, “We’re not going to Hopeton.”
The veins in her neck flutter as her head cranks back to check if her family’s SUV is still following us. Upon spotting its close tail, her eyes return to me.
“Then where are we going?”
She answers her own question when our driver pulls down a familiar street. Manicured lawns, glistening lead windows, and pricy rides sitting in long driveways lead the way to a secret I’ve been holding the past six weeks.
“Nikolai. . .” Justine chokes on a sob when her glimmering eyes take in her childhood home sitting tall and proud on its oceanside perch. “You didn’t, did you?”
The confirmation in her low tone reveals I don’t need to answer her, but I still dip my chin. “You’ve created a life with me, but my home is anywhere you are, have been, or will be. Although you now reside in Vegas, it hasn’t always been that way. This was your home—your safe haven. No man should have taken that away from you,Ahren.Not even me.”
Tears glide down her cheeks as she presses her lips to mine, their quiver uncontained. “I love your mind, body, and spirit, but even more than that, I love your heart.”
I’m about to tell her I don’t have a heart, but the lowering of her hand to her stomach stops me. “What Asher said is true. Family isn’t blood, Nikolai. It is pride, honor, and mutual respect. Mercifully, our baby will have both your blood and your dignity.”
Years of torment, hurt, and pain is erased in an instant. I am for once complete.
When the tap of a tiny hand rattles the window next to my head, Justine jumps out of her skin. The smile she gave Brax earlier can’t compete with the one she flashes when she discovers who is interrupting us. Her mom is standing at our door, her eyes as wide and as in disbelief as Justine’s. The wisps of red curls around her mother’s ears don’t have a chance in hell of hiding the tears staining her milky white cheeks, but she doesn’t care. She carries her happiness with pride, not ashamed to admit she too is overcome with emotion.
“Is it true?” Justine’s mother, Karan, jangles a set of keys. “Is this really our house—again?” She giggles nervously as if she’s afraid she might wake up.
Although her questions are directed at me, Justine briskly nods. Aware I’m not comfortable with the heavy PDA common in her family, she’s quick to accept her mother’s screams of jubilation on my behalf as well. They jump and squeal in the driveway for several long minutes before they’re joined by the male members of their family.
While they tour the home they know like the back of their hands, Roman and I shadow them. Our faces reflect the jubilation theirs hold, just in a more reserved, uncomfortable way.
