Page 82 of His Stolen Bride

I bite her earlobe. “Tonight, you follow.”

Slowly, we gather our bearings and head home. Oisin is fast asleep by the time we’re in. Alina kisses him goodnight and Enzo delivers a message from Vladimir. He’s confirmed the meeting.

I go to my room, giving Alina some time with Oisin. She joins me a few hours later. “Is he still sleeping?” I ask.

“Soundly,” she replies softly as she climbs into bed and straddles me, undoing my trousers and easing my cock free. She licks the tip again and that’s all it takes. “Sofia’s there.”

I nod and watch her with dark eyes as she sinks down on my cock, hair spilling over her shoulders as she rides it with her hips undulating back and forth.

“That’s my girl,” I mutter, holding her in place while I arch up to fuck into her. She laughs softly and clenches around me, and we fuck with our bodies locked and no more interruptions.

Her moans fill the room and my grunts answer them. Hours pass, and she rides me in reverse with her ass grinding my thighs as I watch it bounce and slap it red. She comes screaming my name, and I flip her and take her in missionary with her legs pinned wide, filling her a third time.

We collapse tangled together with skin sticky from sweat, and her fingers trace my jaw. “No regrets.”

“None,” I say, and I kiss her forehead and hold her as she drifts.

24

ALINA

Mikhail’s mother stands by the door with Sofia beside her, both of them already prepared. No questions. No visible fear. Oisin grips Sofia’s hand with one fist and clutches his train in the other. He watches me with eyes that know something is wrong and refuse to panic yet. I crouch in front of him and smooth his hair back. My hands are steady. My chest is not.

“I’ll be back,” I say.

He studies my face like he’s memorizing it. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I say, and it costs me more than anything I’ve said in weeks.

Sofia kneels too, pressing her forehead briefly to his. “We’ll do stories. Two,” she says.

“Two is fair,” Oisin replies automatically.

Mikhail’s mother reaches out and places one hand on his shoulder. It’s light. It’s enough. “Go,” she tells me quietly. “Don’t look back.”

I stand, because I already know Mikhail is waiting as well. I take three steps before I feel him.

Mikhail doesn’t stop me in front of his mother or Sofia. He waits until the door has closed behind Oisin, until the house has absorbed the quiet, until there are no witnesses who could mistake this for weakness. “Alina.”

I turn.

He’s standing a few feet away, jacket off, sleeves rolled, posture tight like he’s holding himself together by will alone. His eyes move over me once, fast, then slower, and I feel it like a hand sliding over bare skin. The look isn’t ownership. It’s hunger restrained by discipline.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye,” he says.

“I was,” I reply. “Just not in front of them.”

His jaw flexes. “Good.”

He steps closer, and the world blurs the way it always does. It’s just us and the space we’re standing in, thin and dangerous. “You’re leaving my protection,” he says quietly. “And I’m allowing it, but…”

With a slight crease of his brows, he shakes his head.

“I’m walking into his,” I correct, touching his chin lightly.

His mouth tightens. “Same thing.”

I tilt my head. “You swore you’d trust me.”