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I let my mind drift, wondering—for the thousandth time—if anybody deserved to be as I was. I was so happy and Vasile and I were so happy together that at times, I almost felt guilty. And it still seemed surreal, impossible to me, that everything had turned out all right. But it had.
Natasha was doing better than ever. Her eyes were bright, she was strong and healthy, and she was devoted to Daniel. Away from Petre’s influence, the Greengallows and Daniel had helped her get past the drug addiction he’d forced on her.
As for Petre himself, he was no more of a threat to me now than an injured polar bear a thousand miles away. He would be serving his sentence for a very long time, and once it was over Vasile had promised to put him in charge of overseeing shipping up north, a job so cold, desolate and thankless that I even felt a little bit bad for him. But only a little.
We lay together in the very bed where he’d first claimed me as his, in that strange and wonderful old manor house with its orangery and swimming pool and beautiful gas lights. And the running water, my God, the running water, still the most delightful miracle to me every single day.
Only now, that wonderful old place truly belonged to us, not just in name. We’d claimed it as ours and were putting our own stamp on it. Slowly we were having it fixed up as we wanted it to be. Replanting the gardens, repainting the rooms, filling each space with the things we loved. It felt like home already. We’d even had one wing of the house redone for my parents, who’d moved in with us last month. My father still gambled, but over bridge games with my mother and Vasile’s parents, and then only for pennies. Literally pennies. I made sure of it before every game.
On the tray beside us in bed were all my favorite things to eat at the moment—chocolates and caramels, candied ginger and blackberry pastilles.
Whether it was a girl or boy, the baby certainly liked things sweet. I was more than happy to oblige. I took a chocolate-dipped gooseberry from a small silver tray, letting my eyes flutter shut as I savored it. As I did, I must have moaned in that particular way that drove Vasile wild, because in return he growled at me, shifted his head away from my belly, and straddled me, firmly pumping that beautiful, rock-solid cock.
Reaching past my belly, I took it in my hand. My clit responded instantly and a trickle of wetness slicked my thighs. I wetted the tip of Vasile’s cock with my own juices, and then gently rubbed circles around the tip, feeling the veins and tissue grow even more in my hand.
He took his cock from me, rubbing the shaft against my clit, not looking up to meet my gaze but instead intently watching himself part my folds. I felt him tease my opening, then adjust his position in order to begin penetrating me.
As he did, he reached forward and grasped my left breast in his massive hand, leaning down over me as he did.
“Fuck, I cannot wait for you to make milk for me,” he said, sucking greedily on my nipple before biting it, hard enough to make me hiss as my eyes rolled back in my head. He let my nipple go with a sucking pop and slid his hand behind my ass, plunging deep into my pussy. The baby kicked like crazy as he entered me fully, and Vasile smiled down at me as he pressed his hand against my stomach once more. “This, right here, is fucking heaven,” he said, driving into me deep and slow.
Arching my head back, I melted into the softness of the bed and the pillows, opening my body and soul to him completely, letting myself be swept up by the pleasure and pain that only he knew how to give. Him, the center of my world, the love of my life, the father of my children. My husband. My ruler.
My prince.
CHAPTER 38
Vasile
Twenty Years Later
“Ekatarina, watch your footwork!” Valeria shouted as our daughter moved forward for a strike. “Keep your guard up. Be ready for a counter! That’s it! That’s my girl!”
I laughed softly to myself. I knew for a fact that Ekatarina didn’t hear a word from the crowd when she was in the zone. She’d told us both so many times that all her focus was on winning, on watching her opponent, on timing every strike and counter. Nevertheless, to an outside observer it would look like she was following every instruction from her mom. Six hours a day training will do that. It was the same for her twin brother, Karl, when he fought his last opponent twenty minutes before.
