Chapter Thirty-Six
In which there is hard news to share.
Roman…
My father still looks formidable, even in a hospital bed. He is ghostly pale from the blood loss, his five o'clock shadow standing out in stark relief. Tubes and wires bloom from him, winding into machines monitoring his vitals and IVs that deliver blood and saline back into his body.
He's still the Pakhan. Even unconscious, he radiates an energy that makes you think he's going to sit up and pull out a Desert Eagle, mowing down the bad guys.
"When the bullets started tearing through the dining room, he dove in front of Mother," Dmitri says. "Shooting with one hand and pushing her out of the way with the other. He was lying in a pool of blood in the freezer, but she kept him alive."
He may be recovering from a chest wound, but sheer stubbornness forces Father back into consciousness as Dmitri and I are standing there. His polar eyes open, gaze sharp and fighting the effects of the anesthesia. "Who's dead?"
"Canton is gone. His wife and son are uninjured," Dmitri says, wincing as Father's eyes narrow. "Roman has Krasniqi's son chained up at Gordi's."
"Good." One word, heavy with fury. "Other casualties?"
"We didn't lose any other guards, Roman and Alexsey got there in time." Dmitri's voice grows hoarse. He doesn't want to say it.
"Alexsey charged Krasniqi." I force it out. Father listens, his expression like stone. "He got the fucker's AK-47 away from him but his arm, it's bad."
"Which arm?" I know what Father is asking. Alexsey paints with his left hand.
"It's his left arm."
"Ah." He closes his eyes for a moment, refusing to share his grief. "I know you two will handle any problems. Send your mother in."
Mother is already at the door, a huge smile transforming her face when she sees he's awake, flying across the room as he holds out a hand to her. They whisper, foreheads pressed together and Dmitri and I leave. Their little bubble is too intimate for us to watch.
Ava meets us in the hall, wrapping her arms around Dmitri. "Violet is showering," she says, "Ivan had one of your men deliver clothes for you both. Did she really finish off those two Albanians in her wedding dress?"
"She did," I say proudly. "Don't call that rag her wedding dress. Violet accepted my proposal."
Dmitri bursts into raucous laughter. I'll never tell this asshole anything again.
"Do you want to explain to Ava that you tricked Violet into signing a marriage license nearly a month ago, or do you want me to?" Dmitri is wheezing from laughing so hard.
"You did what?" Ava doesn't sound particularly upset by this information, more intrigued. Being in this family has definitely had an effect on her.
"I thought it was a good way to protect her," I say defensively. "The Chads intended to force her to marry one of them, so our union blew that plan to hell."
"So, this was strategic." Ava nods, fighting a smile.
"Well, exactly," I say.
"You're lucky she said yes instead of stabbing you," she says.
Shrugging, I admit, "Both outcomes were equally likely."
***
This isn't the first time I've had to take a shower at the Morozov private clinic, nor the first - or tenth, twentieth, maybe - that I've walked into the clinic covered in blood.
But it is the first time I've showered with Violet as my bride.
Violet's eyes are closed, her forehead resting against the marble tile, the brass shower head is drenching her in warm water and she's basking in it.
There are three stainless steel garbage cans here, one for to be laundered, one for throwing away, and one for 'incinerate this shit and burn any evidence into smoke.
' I use the third one, piling my blood-soaked tach suit in there before sliding into the shower.
My poor bride jumps half a foot when I wrap my arms around her from behind. "How do you feel?" I put my mouth on her neck, feeling her pulse speed up.
Turning around in the circle of my arms, Violet looks up at me. "I… have no idea how I feel. The past forty-eight hours have been a lot, even for this life."
"You're past the violent rescue and the proof that you will kill to save your own, my sweet bride." Her eyes darken to a molten amber. I hold up her hand, pleased my ring is still there, the purple diamond glittering. "You did accept my proposal."
"Yeah, a month after we got married," she drawls, sliding her hand behind my neck and pulling my head down to kiss me.
Groaning, I feel my lips singe from her heated kiss. The blood's washing off me, pooling pinkish on the tile, but she ignores it, sliding her fingers into my hair.
"I need to fuck you," I manage to say, my mouth still on hers. "Soft, gentle reunion sex or desperate, 'Thank god you're alive' sex?" The words shape beautifully against her fiery lips.
Violet pulls away slightly, the warm water showering down on us both. "You choose.”
Three of my fingers slide inside her, and I grin against her kiss.
"My bride, you’re already wet." My thumb circles her clit and I drive my fingers in and out of her.
Wet. Soft. Tight. And so fucking hot. Spinning her around to face the wall, I smile at her startled little shriek.
"Open your mouth. I'm stuffing my fingers, wet from your pussy in there and I'm taking you.
You're not going to say a single word unless it's 'harder, or ‘more. '"
Bending my knees, I shove my cock inside her, her hand slaps the wet tile as I bury myself deeper. "Or, if you want to say, 'please let me come.' I'm going to take what I need from you. You keep that hot pussy wrapped around me."
Looking down is a mistake. The sight of my slick cock driving into her makes me feral, and her pale skin against my darker, tattooed chest, it's going to make me come too soon.
"Fuck!" I pull out, turning her to face me as she sways on unsteady feet. Sliding my hands under her ass, I haul her up, my cock rubbing against her soft stomach. "Put me in."
Her small hand wraps around me, her thumb sliding slyly over my piercing before she notches me inside her. "You're even tighter like this,” I grunt. Thrusting up viciously, I love how her entire body stiffens as she wraps her legs around me.
"You're too big like this," Violet gasps before burying her sharp teeth in my shoulder.
"Bite harder," I laugh breathlessly. "Not too big, you can take me. You've taken all of me before." I grip her ass tighter, there's going to be bruises tomorrow. "Remember how you wanted bruises to remember the first time I took you in the playroom?"
"Y- yes," she gasps out.
"You're getting them now." Rearing back, I drive up into her, loving her groans, how she strains against me.
Her hard nipples rub against my chest and I balance her with one hand so my fingers can twist and tug on them.
"I could die like this, my mouth on your hot lips and my cock in your molten pussy.
Say you're mine." Her eyes flash and she bites me again, drawing blood and I throw back my head, laughing.
"Say it, sweet Violet. You're chewing the hell out of my shoulder, marking me. You already know I belong to you. Now say..." I thrust hard, drawing a muffled gasp from her. "It. Say you belong to me."
"I'm yours," she gasps, bucking up hard against me. "I think I've always been yours."
"You're right." I'm feverish, half mad and burying myself as deep as I can. "From the first moment you lured me into the garden." Violet tightens down as she comes and I can feel it, a fireball roaring through me and I flood her as she squeezes the come from me.
The water beats against us as I slump, pinning her against the tile wall. "I love you," I manage.
"I love you too… husband." Violet whispers back.