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Not a day went by that I didn’t miss my mom. And although I knew that Kristoff was the son of her best friend, she had never mentioned him until the day she dropped me off at his house. It seemed like a lot to ask from a complete stranger, to take care of your teenage daughter.
“Your mother knew I was Bratva. She also knew about some of our customs, like the fact that breaking a blood vow is punishable by death.”
Kristoff had already told me that he’d promised my mother he would take care of me. I just never knew the extent of that promise. He had given a damn blood vow.
I raised a hand. “Wait a minute. How could she have known about what that vow meant?”
He gave me a pointed look. “Your father, Aslanov, is Bratva.”
Of course. I swallowed. I should have connected the dots right away. Surely, she knew how Aslanov’s world worked. I still had difficulty of thinking of him as my father.
“So that’s the reason you didn’t hand me over to Sokolov, but married me instead. You didn’t want to break your vow.” I should have guessed it. No matter how furious I was at him, I knew he was a man of integrity, in his own wicked way.
He didn’t answer, so I pressed. “When did Sokolov discover I was his enemy’s daughter?”
There was a beat of silence. “He knew the day after your mother had died.”
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I’d lived underneath this roof all this time with a sword held over my head. “Would you have handed me over to him if he’d asked for my blood right away?”
Something flickered in his eyes.
My heart pounded. “He did, didn’t he? He asked you right away, but by then you were bound by the blood vow to protect me.”
That was one point for my mom, zero for Sokolov. Clearly my mother had been a visionary, anticipating Bratva vengeance when people found out about who my father was. I had only one remaining question left, and I wasn’t sure how I would feel about its answer.
I took a deep breath. “Would you have handed me over to Sokolov if it hadn’t been for the blood vow?”
Anticipation tightened my stomach. I feared, yet longed, for his reaction. Because whatever else he was, Kristoff was no liar.
Darkness swirled in his eyes.
“Yes, I would have.”
***
Kristoff
Crestfallen was a too tame word to describe how Katya looked after I told her the truth. If it even was the truth that I just told her. Perhaps deep down I had always known that one day she would be officially mine. Maybe a part of me would have hesitated before handing her over to her murderer, just to help my own cause. The thing was, I wasn’t sure anymore. I did know that I wasn’t the same man I was before I met her. I didn’t know how or when it had happened, but she’d become an intricate part of my life now, and would forever remain so, whether she wanted to or not.
She turned away from me and stared outside at the garden, just to avoid my eyes. I didn’t blame her. She probably felt like her life was unraveling right before her eyes, and she didn’t even know the full truth. She had no idea in what kind of danger she would be the moment she tried to leave me.
I’d killed a mercenary who’d been sent right after her eighteenth birthday. It had taken Aslanov’s other enemies a lot longer than Sokolov to discover who she was. In all the years I’d tortured people, I’d never made such an example of someone as I did of that asshole who came after her. It had been the first and last time that someone had dared to come after her on US soil. After that it had been an unwritten rule of sorts that no one would try again as long as she kept living under my roof. She wasn’t leaving my sight, ever.
Once more she gave me her back. The desire to brush my hand over her bare shoulder hit me. I hated that she turned away from me. There was a war raging inside her mind. I couldn’tcontrol her thoughts, but I sure as hell could make a play for her body.
I rolled onto my back and interlaced my fingers beneath my head.
“This isn’t how I had imagined spending our honeymoon,” I said, knowing that would catch her attention. “Remember the other day when we were fucking in the car? I can’t think of anything else. I want to rip that comforter off your body, then the sexy negligee. You know I prefer you naked, on your knees before me, sucking my cock. Or sitting on my face, where I can kiss your pretty little pussy. That’s how I imagined my honeymoon.”
The darkness in the room only intensified my hearing, and what I heard was her panting. I smiled and stared at the ceiling, which was like a big screen playing all the wicked things I imagined doing to her.
“I would push you to your hand and knees, make you hold onto the headboard. My hand would land on your ass, swatting it for threatening to leave me. I wouldn’t stop hitting it until you begged me to.”
Imagining my handprint on her bright-red ass cheeks went straight to my already hard dick. Fuck, I was the one who was uncomfortable now but I started it, so I was going to finish it.
“You would be so wet,” I predicted. “I wouldn’t give you my dick though, no matter how much you begged me for it. Can you imagine what that would feel like, Ekaterina? You’d be so turned on, burning with desire, but would feel empty inside. Your hot slick would drip down your thighs. I would lick it all the way up to your cunt, which I would feast upon. My tongue would torture your clit until it turned hard and ached for release.”
Katya whimpered, but she still didn’t turn to face me. That was okay, I could do this all night. That is, if I wasn’t fucking punishing myself as well.
