Chapter 31
31
Fiona
K irill steers me out of the room and down several hallways. We turn the corner, and the plane comes into sight.
"Wait," Valentina shouts.
We spin to face her.
Brax is close on her heels.
"What's wrong?" Kirill asks with alarm.
She stops in front of us, breathing hard.
"Are Sean and Zara okay?" I fret.
Brax closes in, stepping beside Valentina and affirming, "They're fine. Living it up with the hanging corpses and declaring a national chastisement for trying to overthrow you."
My heart speeds up again.
They almost beheaded us.
I blurt out, "Thank you for saving us! Both of you." I say the last part while looking at Valentina with gratitude .
Brax puffs his chest out, boasting, "Piece of cake."
"Then why did my wife almost get beheaded?" Kirill seethes, holding me tighter.
Valentina slaps the back of her hand into Brax's stomach.
I glance up, softly scolding, "He's being funny."
"There's nothing funny about it," Kirill warns.
"Kirill—"
"He's right. It's horrendous, and we need to weed out the rest of the traitors. And that's why you must give us their seats," Valentina announces.
Kirill and I stand in stunned silence.
"Please," she begs.
Kirill sighs and closes his eyes.
"Of course you can have them," I offer.
Kirill's body stiffens. "No. Unfortunately, you can't give them the open seats."
"Why not? They saved us," I cry out.
Sympathy blooms on his expression. He states, "There has to be a cleansing ritual. You know this, Valentina."
I scrunch my face. "What does that mean?"
"It was one of the missing sections in your Royal Doctrine. It's Amendment 666," he informs me.
I scoff. "The same amendment that almost got us beheaded?"
"Yes."
"And what is so special about this amendment? "
Kirill glances at Valentina and Brax, then pins his gaze on me, answering, "Seats must be refilled with the same status as those who left."
Lost, I ask, "Meaning?"
"If an individual dies unmarried, another unmarried individual takes the seat. But if a couple dies, then another couple replaces them."
I wrinkle my nose. "That's stupid."
"Agreed," Brax mutters.
"Don't belittle the rules Fiona's father created. They are to keep balance," Kirill reprimands.
"So they should get married," I suggest.
Brax shoots me a look like I'm crazy.
"No. The amendment states that the evil needs to be cleansed from the seats during a purity ritual," Kirill declares.
I admit, "I'm still lost."
"The couple can't be together due to an arranged marriage or a predetermined selection. It has to be a couple who is truly in love and has chosen to marry without outside forces. The seats must go through a rebirth period, and only love can change the energy from negative to positive," he explains.
"We're in love and getting married!" Valentina blurts out.
Brax snaps his head toward her, his eyes wide.
I gape at them.
She grabs his hand. She sternly says, "We are! Aren't we?"
Fear fills his expression.
She turns back to Kirill and me, claiming, "We check all the boxes. We'll take the seats. "
Brax clenches his jaw.
Kirill chuckles and points at him. "I see. You're joking again. The look on your face is priceless. Well played."
"We're not joking," Valentina insists, tugging Brax's arm. "Tell them the truth so we don't lose the chance to take our seats."
He glances at her.
She pleads with her eyes.
He slowly slides his arm around her, tugs her closer, and stands taller. He grins, pins his gaze on Kirill, and confirms, "We're in love, and I asked her to marry me."
Kirill points to her hand. "Where's her ring?"
She interjects, "Getting sized. Brax thought my finger was a seven and it's a seven and a half."
Brax's face hardens again. He affirms, "My bad. The jeweler is fixing it."
Kirill studies them for a moment, shakes his head, then looks at me.
I bite on my smile, trying not to laugh. There's no way this is true.
Valentina reiterates, "We meet the criteria. Please! Let us take our seats!"
Kirill sighs, then gives her an apologetic look. He lowers his voice. "Amendment 666 is important. Sean created it for the sole purpose?—"
"Of restoring light to the table and safety to The Underworld," I interject.
Pride fills Kirill's expression. He praises, "Yes, my queen. You're exactly right. How did you know that when the amendment wasn't in your Royal Doctrine? "
"It's part of Act 7. Balance is essential for safety, and light must always shine upon the table," I recite.
Kirill puffs his chest, gushing, "I have the smartest wife."
Brax mutters, "Don't fill her head."
Valentina elbows him.
"Ouch," he grumbles.
Kirill scowls.
I quickly add, "Which is why Valentina and Brax can take their seats as long as they get married on the next full moon."
Shock fills Kirill's expression. "You aren't buying this?"
My lips twitch. "Oh, Brax has always wanted to get married, haven't you?"
His face hardens.
"Answer the queen," Kirill instructs.
"Yeah. All day long it's all I think about," he replies.
I motion between them. "It's clear they're madly in love."
"It is?" Kirill retorts, furrowing his forehead.
"Of course," I lie.
He gives me an I-can't-believe-you're-allowing-this look.
"We are. We'll have our wedding on the next full moon," Valentina offers.
"On the..." Brax scrunches his face, then blurts out, "That's in three weeks!"
"Yes. Is there a problem?" I sternly question .
Valentina squeezes his bicep and offers, "No. No problem at all. Brax told me this morning he's dying to marry me sooner rather than later, didn't you?"
He locks eyes with her, narrows his, and slowly lowers his gaze over her body. He lewdly raises it, meets her gaze, and in a gravelly voice, replies, "I sure did, my sexy little minx."
A flush crawls up Valentina's cheeks.
I stop myself from laughing and lean into Kirill. "Sounds like our problem is solved. I'm tired and want to go home. Congratulations on your engagement and future seats at the table and on the Royal Council." I step forward and hug Valentina.
She hugs me back. "Thank you."
I retreat, firmly adding, "Thank you for saving us."
She smiles. "Anytime."
I step in front of Brax.
He glares at me.
I tease, "Give me a hug to celebrate."
His jaw tics, but he goes through the motions.
I contain my laughter and step back. "Thank you as well."
His face turns serious. He nods. "Happy to be of service."
"Can't wait for your wedding," I add, winking.
His face hardens again.
I spin toward Kirill. "Ready?"
His gaze darts between Valentina and Brax, then he looks at me quizzically, like he can't believe this is happening .
I repeat, "I'm tired. I want to go home." I tilt my head and offer a tiny smile.
With a sigh, he hugs Valentina and shakes Brax's hand. "We'll discuss this in more detail back in Chicago."
"What's to discuss?" Valentina frets.
"Nothing," I assure her, then squeeze Kirill's hand.
He glances at me.
"Correct?" I ask.
Something passes in his expression.
"Kirill?" Valentina asks in a low voice.
I wink at him.
He takes a deep breath, then points at them. "The Omni will insist on proof your love is real, and you must marry on the next full moon. If there is any doubt, you know the consequences."
My insides quiver.
Brax clenches his jaw.
Valentina affirms, "Yes. We understand. There won't be any issues. We'll prove how in love we are, won't we?" She glances at Brax.
He stays quiet.
Kirill peers closer at Brax. "And what about you? Will there be any issues? The last thing I want is Valentina dead, so tell me now before this goes any further."
Valentina glances at me with anxiety.
I interject, "Nah. He'll make sure it goes smoothly. Won't you, Brax?" My lips twitch.
His gaze slides to me .
I arch my eyebrows.
"I'm waiting for an answer," Kirill warns.
He lifts his head and smacks his palm against Valentina's ass.
She jumps with a gasp.
He grins at her. "No issues. Can't wait to be tied to this little minx for eternity."
"See. All good," I chirp, then pull on Kirill's arm. "Let's go home."
He studies them for another moment, and then his lips curve. "Then I guess congratulations are in order." He kisses the top of my head. "Let's go home."
I flick my fingers in a wave, smirking. "Bye-bye, lovebirds. Can't wait to have a double date with our soon-to-be-married besties."
Brax glares daggers at me.
Valentina purses her lips.
Kirill chuckles and steers me onto the plane.
Arina curtsies, greeting, "Your Majesties."
"Good to see you, Arina," I say.
She looks up, relief evident in her expression. "And you, my queen."
"Please. Rise," I say.
She smiles, obeys, and gives Kirill the same expression. "Sir."
"Everything is fine, Arina. Let's go home," he orders.
"Yes, sir. Do either of you need anything?" she asks.
"No, thank you," he replies.
"Okay." She nods.
Kirill escorts me to the back of the plane. He opens the bedroom door .
Exhausted, I step inside, go into the bathroom, and brush my teeth. I splash water on my face, untie my robe, and slide it off my shoulders. Then I return to the bedroom and slip under the covers.
Kirill hasn't moved. He stands against the door, appearing nervous.
My stomach flips. "Are you coming to bed?"
His chest fills with air. "Do you want me to?"
We have issues to work through.
I sit up. "Yes. Unless you don't want to?"
He comes over and sits next to me on the edge of the bed. Pain fills his expression.
I swallow the lump in my throat, offering, "I'm sorry."
"You don't have anything to apologize for," he states.
My voice quivers as I insist, "I do. I shouldn't have run away and shut you out."
He stares at me, hesitant, his breaths short.
"Say something," I whisper.
He opens his mouth and then shuts it. He releases an anxious breath and then glances at the ceiling.
I grab his hand. "Hey!"
He meets my gaze, his eyes glistening. "I'm always going to be a Petrov, Fiona." Shame floods his sharp features.
It hurts my heart. I lean forward, wrap my arms around him, and slide my hands through his hair. I pull his face to mine, blink hard, and assert, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You aren't your father."
His face twists, and he looks toward the window.
"Kirill. "
Several moments pass, and my heart beats harder. He finally turns back, stating, "I hate that you saw it. And I won't lie to you. If I could rewind time, I'd find the bastard who sent it to you and kill them before it ever got into your hands."
I rise on my knees and straddle him, putting both hands on his cheeks, breathing in the scent of leather, rosewater, saffron, jasmine, and all the other notes I still can't figure out. A warmth surrounds me, calming the chaos I haven't escaped since I last saw him.
"Fiona—"
"Kiss me," I order.
Confusion flares in his eyes.
"You don't want to kiss me anymore?"
"I'd never say that," he replies.
"Then kiss me."
"We have to work this out," he claims.
I nod. "Yes. We do. But nothing we can say will erase what either of us saw. It won't change what happened to my parents."
He stays quiet.
I add, "Is there something you have to say to me right now for us to return to where we were?"
He pins his eyebrows together.
Panic hits me. My voice shakes when I say, "You don't want things to be how they used to be?"
He slides his hand up my back and palms my neck.
I inhale sharply, my core lighting on fire.
He gruffly answers, "That's all I want. "
Relief fills me. I slide closer, brushing my lips against his, ordering, "Then kiss me and take off your clothes."
His lips curve. He presses one finger at a time on the side of my neck.
I whimper, my breath hitching, but I wait.
He flicks his tongue into my mouth, and all the longing comes to an end.
I rise on my knees, gripping his hair, pressing as close to him as possible, kissing him with every ounce of love I undoubtedly have for him. My other hand reaches for his waist, untying his robe.
He slinks out of it and grabs my hip, then slides me over him.
"Yes," I whisper in a muffled tone against his lips.
He groans, thrusts inside me a few times, then flips me on my back. He lifts my thigh toward the headboard, pushing deeper inside me.
Tingles dance in all my nerves. I moan, "Kirill."
He moves his lips back to mine, urgently flicking his tongue around my mouth. His hand curves around my neck and his fingertips press down one by one.
"Kirill," I breathe through the kiss.
"Hmm," he responds, pressing and flicking with more intensity.
I blurt out, "I think I'm pregnant."
He stills, his eyes widening.
My pulse skyrockets.
Why did I choose this moment to say that?
Tense silence builds between us.
"Say something," I urge .
He opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. His heart pounds against my chest.
Fear pummels me. I ask, "Are you mad?"
He shuts his mouth, opens it again, then shakes his head hard.
"Then why aren't you saying anything?" I fret.
"I..." He takes several deep breaths, not breaking eye contact with me.
My voice cracks. "K-Kirill?"
"Is that why you got sick?" he questions.
"Maybe. I couldn't handle the smell. And I don't know for sure, but I've been throwing up every day. The nausea comes, I toss my cookies, then I'm fine," I admit.
"Since when?"
"Since I left."
He furrows his forehead.
"Why do I think you're upset?" I ask worriedly.
He rolls off me and sits up. "I'm not. Just... Just give me a minute to process this, okay?"
I sit up, declaring, "I might not be!"
He arches an eyebrow.
"What?"
"If you've been sick every day..."
I bite my lip, concerned he won't be happy if it's true.
"We need to get you to a doctor. As soon as we land," he asserts.
"I'm not dying. I can make an appointment with my gynecologist," I say .
He scoffs. "We're not waiting. If you're pregnant, you need vitamins and other things. Plus, you've been under a ridiculous amount of stress. We need to make sure everything is okay with the baby!"
I tilt my head, my mouth curving into a grin. "So you aren't upset?"
"Upset? No." He keeps his stern expression and glances at the bed.
My face falls. "If you aren't upset, then what's wrong?"
"Wrong?" He meets my eye.
"You don't look happy."
He stares at me as if I'm a ghost for a moment, then blinks a few times. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."
"Just..."
"I'm going to be a father?"
"Ummm... I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."
He glances down, splays his palm on my stomach, and slowly pins his blues on mine. There's a mix of fear, excitement, and pride in his gaze. He firmly claims, "No. You're carrying our baby."
A relieved laugh flies out of my mouth. "Let's not get too excited until we know for sure."
He flips me onto the mattress again.
I shriek.
"Then let's make sure we don't leave any room for the doctor to tell us I didn't knock you up."
I laugh.
He chuckles, then returns to kissing and thrusting inside me.
Adrenaline ignites in a flash .
He grips my neck, pressing and kneading, inciting a pool of endorphins ready to attack my core.
"I love you, my queen," he murmurs between kisses.
"I love you, my king," I reply, digging my nails into his shoulders.
"Jesus, I missed you," he adds.
"Yes. Let's not ever be apart again," I state.
He kisses me harder, presses my thigh higher, and thrusts deeper.
Endorphins explode, rushing to my core and generating uncontrollable convulsions deep within me. My body spasms, desperately trying to hold on to him as his erection slides against my walls.
"Kirill," I cry out.
"Shh, my little bird," he coos, pressing his fingers harder against my neck.
"Do it," I order, wanting the next level I've craved since we've been apart.
"You might be pregnant," he reminds me.
"Do it," I beg.
He grunts. "No." He slides his hand under my neck.
"Kirill!"
He presses in a different spot, and the same high I get when he cuts off my air supply attacks me.
Incoherent sounds work their way out of me. My convulsions intensify, and I thrash against him. The room flashes white and then my eyes roll.
"Fuck, Fiona!" he grits out, his erection swelling, then pumping at an accelerated pace. He thrusts through it, studying me while clenching his jaw .
When the endorphins slow, and it's only our bated breath with our chests pushing against the other, his face falls. He rolls onto his back, taking me with him.
I curl into him, feeling at home, vowing to never again run from him.
Several minutes pass, then he declares, "I'm going to be a dad."
I giggle as I lean up on my elbow and put my face near his. I remind him, "Maybe."
He shakes his head. "No. No, maybe. It's happening."
Happiness fills me. "How can you be so sure?"
"You've been sick."
"Kirill, that isn't a guarantee," I warn.
Arrogance fills his expression. It's something I rarely see on him. He insists, "You're pregnant."
"What if I'm not?"
"You are."
"Humor me and pretend I'm not."
He grins, reiterating, "You are."
I roll my eyes, smiling. I relax back into his arms.
His face falls, and his voice is soft when he says my name.
"Hmm?"
He turns into me and strokes my back. I've never seen him look so vulnerable. "Don't leave me ever again."
My chest tightens. I put my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over his scar near his jawbone. I reply, "I won't."
He orders, "Promise me—especially if we're having a baby. I don't want you or our baby living in a different place than me. I want to be a good husband and father."
I tear up and scoot closer to him. I adamantly state, "You're the best husband. And you'll be the best dad."
He stares at me, unsure of my statement.
"It's true," I insist, then kiss him.
He kisses me back, and I yawn against his mouth.
"Sorry!" I chirp.
He chuckles. "Turn around so we can spoon."
I beam. "Yes, sir!" I turn over, and he curls his body around mine.
No matter how horrible the past is, there's only one truth I need to hang on to now and in the future.
I love Kirill Petrov. I'm proud to be his wife and can't wait to have tons of his babies.