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ADRIK
“Still worried I only brought you out here to murder you?” I ask. “Out where—how did you say it… where no one can hear you scream?”
Emery glares at me, not at all amused. “We are not in a place where you can joke about that right now.”
I lean back, kicking my feet up towards the fire. I haven’t had to build a fire in ten years at least, but some things you never forget. It’s a strong blaze. It should last until we’re ready to go to sleep. And even after it dies down, the embers will keep us warm the rest of the night.
“You’re right. You’re obviously in clear and present danger.”
“Stop,” she warns. “I’m serious, stop.”
“You think this fire is to keep you warm and comfortable. But the moment you turn your back, I’m going to impale you on a spit and roast you over it.”
“That’s not funny.”
“What kind of husband would joke about such vile things? The horror. I’m truly a monster.”
She sighs and leans forward. The firelight gives her skin a healthy glow. The dancing light plays in her hair, turning it to spun gold.
“I can’t even trust that you’re really my husband,” she murmurs. It isn’t an accusation, but an admission. She sounds tired. “The entire ceremony was in Russian. The priest almost died before it was over. And then I find out about… about Yasha.” Her voice catches on his name. “It’s all just… it’s a lot, Adrik.”
“The ceremony was authentic, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“The legal X’s and O’s of our wedding are the least of my concerns right now,” she snaps. “Your connection to your brother is the real issue.”
“Oh, you mean the ‘connection’ I’ve spent all day doing my fucking best to sever?”
“That’s how it appears. Who knows what’s true?”
I stand up and pace around the fire. Mostly because I have too much energy pulsing through me to keep sitting. I grab a stick and poke at the fire. Sparks burst and spiral into the sky.
“The two of you are close,” she says from her seat, not daring to look at me. “You made that much clear. I just can’t imagine you’d throw all of that away for me.”
“You’re right. It’s not for you.”
She flushes, her blush visible in the firelight. “Right. I’m not important. You’ve made that clear.”
“For fuck’s sake, you’re frustrating,” I growl. I round the fire to sit next to her. She tries to lean away from me, but I pull her in close. “Just sit the fuck still and listen.”
I can tell she wants to argue, but she crosses her arms tightly over her chest and glares at me instead.
"Yasha is my little brother."
“I know how family works, but thanks for the refresher.”
"Yasha is my little brother," I repeat grimly. "But I was the closest thing to a parent he had. Our father was busy running the Bratva. He certainly didn't have time for Yasha, and why would he care about the backup son? He planned on passing everything to me. I was trained. Anointed. What did he need Yasha for?"
"Because he's his son," she says. “Yasha is his child.”
"That's the normal person’s way of looking at it. But the Bratva way isn’t so rosy-eyed. No sense wasting your time with something or someone that doesn't benefit you." I shrug. "And Yasha didn't benefit my father. So it fell to me to carry him through. Especially after our mom died."
"You raised him like a son.”
"I did my best. I just wanted Yasha to understand the importance of family. I wanted him to know I'd always be there for him. That I'd always look out for him." I turn to her. The flames dance in her green eyes. "Because that's what families do."
She sighs. "Then is it so crazy I can’t help wondering if that connection transcends everything? Like you just said, he's your family, Adrik."
"So are you."
She frowns. "Well, but—"
"No." I shake my head. "No 'but.' You and Isabella became my family the day we got married. And when Yasha came into that safehouse and broke into your room…"
My hands clench just thinking about it. Imagining my own goddamn brother with his hands on my wife. Taunting her. Talking about how he hurt her. Relishing it.
"When he did that,” I continue, “he hurt my family. Which means he betrayed me. Knowingly. And I won't let that pass. I wouldn’t be fit to be don if I did."
Emery looks at the fire. "So… what?" she asks. "Am I supposed to believe this was all just coincidence? That you and me meeting, getting engaged and married, Yasha being your brother… Am I supposed to believe that is all just fate? Because I don't believe in fate. Nothing could be that cruel."
"Neither do I. I believe in choice."
I take her hand. Her fingers are cold. She stays silent.
"When we met, you chose to ask me for help," I rasp.
I can still see her standing in my office, her backless dress and the graceful curve of her spine. The fear in her eyes, mixed with unmerited hope. Hope I still can’t bring myself to extinguish, even now.
"And I chose you to be the woman I married. You chose me to be the man who saved you from a nightmare. So fuck fate. We make our own destinies.”
“It never felt like I had a choice.” She lets her chin fall to her chest. “As soon as I saw you, I… I wanted to be near you. I still want to be near you.”
“Then choose that.”
Emery goes still for one breathless moment. Then she sighs, and in that sigh, I see everything I’ve ever needed to know.
I catch her sigh in my mouth, kissing her hungrily. She kisses back, arching her body against me, rubbing herself against me like she can’t control herself. She moans again and again.
Peeling away from me, Emery grabs the hem of her tank top and rips it off over her head. Her breasts spill out. I lean forward and take one in my mouth. I swirl my tongue over her nipple, and she bites back yet another moan.
“All this wilderness is making you wild,” I tease huskily.
“No,” she shakes her head. “That’s you doing that.” She claws at my shirt, dragging it over my head. “God, you’re perfect. I mean, look at you. You’re—”
She stops suddenly, her hand moving gingerly over the bandage on my shoulder. Earlier at the safehouse, I let Stefan replace the towel and duct tape with a real bandage. The strain of hefting the logs into the fire must’ve pulled the wound enough to let loose the fresh blood seeping through the gauze now.
“Are you okay?” she asks in alarm.
I pull her hand off my shoulder. “No,” I snarl, “I’m not okay. Because if I’m not inside you before I draw my next breath, I’m going to fucking die.”
She laughs as I lean forward and bury my face between her breasts. She grabs my face and pulls me back, looking into my eyes. “I mean it, though. Today was crazy. I thought… I thought I was going to die. I thought you were going to die.” I slide my hand between her thighs, and she tenses with a sharp cry. “Adrik, I’m serious!”
“So am I,” I growl, curling my finger over her slit over her leggings. “You’re here with me, Emery. You’re safe. We’re both alive. And I’m about to make you come like a whore on my cock.”
She smiles coquettishly, that same shy grin that’s driven me wild from the moment we met. But the way she’s grinding against my palm is anything but shy.
“Well,” she murmurs, “when you say it like it…”
I smile at her attitude, even now, and move my hand inside her leggings. She’s wet, her panties already drenched. I slip a finger inside of her. My thumb swirls over her clit and her legs clench around my thighs.
“We have to… oh, fuck, right there… have to be quiet,” she gasps, her voice ragged.
“Afraid the wolves will hear?”
“I’m—oh.”
She starts to roll her eyes, but then I slide a second finger into her and she closes them, letting her head fall against my chest.
Emery rocks her body against me, seeking out what she needs. And I let her take it. I give her everything she can handle and then some.
“Another one,” she gasps, sliding herself down over my fingers. “Give me one more.”
I slide a third finger into her, and she groans gutturally. She fucks my hand, grinding herself onto my fingers and against my thumb until she’s a bundle of tension, ready to erupt. Her face is twisted in need as she writhes on top of me.
Finally, she bows back, her mouth open in a silent scream, and I feel her body clamp around my hand.
“I’m—I’m—I’m coming, oh God, Adrik, I’m coming so fucking—”
She exhales sharply and works herself down, riding out the wave of her orgasm until she collapses against my chest.
“Fuck,” she breathes when it’s all over. “That was… oh my God, that was—”
“Just the beginning,” I whisper in her ear. “There’s far more left to come.”
She gasps, but doesn’t have time for anything else before I lift her off of me and lay her back on the blanket spread out next to the fire. I hook my fingers in the waistband of her leggings, and tear them down her legs. She lifts her hips to help me, licking her lips, eyes flashing with heat.
