6. Lev
I hate leaving her. Because no one can protect her like I can.
But I have to take action now, so I double the security in and around the Zarkov Estate, and by the time we arrive home, there are already more men patrolling the inner walls.
Inside the mansion, Brooke makes her way through the foyer.
“I need to sleep,” she says wearily.
I follow her up the grand staircase, but when she turns right to go to her bedroom, I take her by the wrists.
“No, from now on, you sleep in my room with me.”
She looks surprised. “Isn’t that breaking the rules?”
I slide my hands inside hers. “There are no rules now. We’re at war, and I intend to protect you and the baby the best way I can. When you sleep, it is with me, in my bed.”
She looks up at me, the expression on her bruised face full of uncertainty, and it crushes me to see the fear in her big brown eyes.
I trace a finger along her eyebrow and down her cheeks, then cup her jaw in my hands. “The worst is behind us.”
I know it’s a bold statement. But she needs to know I will do everything in my power to ensure she will never have to endure any more time in the hands of my enemies.
I kiss her, and it’s shaky and broken because we’re both bruised and tattered, but as we stand there in the dim light of the hallway, our kiss is a reminder that amongst the bloodshed and the shadows of war, we still have this.
It doesn’t matter that we don’t know what this is.
For now, it is enough.
And it is perfect.
I take her to my bedroom, and she stops in the doorway and casts an astonished gaze around the room.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispers.
My bedroom is over-the-top opulent. A bedroom fit for a king. Large, with cathedral ceilings and a bed so massive it needs custom-made sheets.
Now that I am in the sanctuary of my own room, I feel the weight of the last forty-eight hours in every cell and neuron in my body.
“Do you need to shower?” I ask.
She nods, and I lead her into the colossal marble bathroom off the bedroom. In the dim light, I slowly peel the clothes from her, my gut tightening when I see her bruises up close.
She starts to undo my shirt buttons, and I stop her.
“Let me look after you,” I say.
“This is you looking after me,” she whispers. “Join me in the shower. Hold me. Kiss me.”
Despite my bruised ribs and the ache in every muscle of my body, I harden at the sight of her nakedness. But tonight is not about sex. It’s about being here together. I want to soothe her, not fuck her. Although my cock is pretty certain we could do both.
In the shower, she hisses in a breath when the water hits the cut to her lip and the injuries on her beautiful face, so I turn her away from it and angle her head so the warm water runs down her long hair.
“Better?”
“Thank you,” she moans.
I take my time with her. Lathering her body in soap and washing the suds from her skin. I want to wash away every moment she endured at the hand of Vlad. From his abusive touch to his vile, brutal energy, I don’t want any of it lingering on her flesh. I want to soothe her and comfort her.
And when my hands slide over her flat belly, the thought of my baby sends an overwhelming need to protect them both to the most primal parts of me.
I will do anything to keep them safe.
Turning her in my arms to face me, I hold her and kiss her.
She reaches between us, her warm hands taking hold of my slippery cock.
“Zayka—
“I almost lost you last night,” she says gently as she starts to stroke me. “I need this. You need this.”
My cock throbs with agreement in her skillful hands. And despite the pain in my body, my balls grow heavy and swell with arousal with every sensual stroke.
I take her face in my hands and kiss her slowly as the pleasure rises in me. I groan into her mouth, wanting her, needing to bury myself so deep in her that I forget everything in the outside world.
But bruised ribs are a motherfucker, and even I have to admit defeat. Fucking her against the tiles is not going to happen tonight.
But I can make her come in other ways.
As she continues to stroke me, I press her back to the wall dripping with shower water and slide my fingers between her thighs where she’s slick and ready for me. She bites down on her wet lips, droplets of water spilling from her long eyelashes as she looks up at me.
God, she’s so beautiful.
I can’t help it. I crush my lips to hers, hard and demanding, but remember her bruised, split lip and pull away.
“No,” she pants desperately. “Kiss me.”
She yanks me back to her mouth, her tongue sweeping in, and I groan at the pleasure.
Her hands slip along my cock, water squelching with every stroke.
She whimpers as I rub her clit, and it’s almost my undoing.
“Oh God, zayka—” I bite back the need to come. Because I need to get her there first.
She sags against the wall, her strokes faltering as her body softens, and she begins to tremble and moan.
My cock aches with the loss of friction, and pain be damned, I let her have her orgasm, but before she finishes, I hoist up her leg and thrust into her wet pussy and take my own. Everything hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the pleasure of chasing an orgasm and then coming inside her.
Except this time, I know she’s pregnant with my baby, and there is something primal in my release. It’s me claiming her. Claiming them.
My chest heaving, I slip out of her warm body and press my forehead to hers, kissing her wet lips until both our breathing evens out.
When we’re done, we step out of the shower, and I carefully dry her off, taking special care of her bruises.
“I’m a lot stronger than you think,” she says softly.
And I don’t know why, but a rush of pride and admiration pours into my chest.
But it’s quickly followed by a guilt so gut-wrenching it physically hurts. She shouldn’t have to reassure me of her strength. None of this should have happened.
“Wait here,” I say, wrapping her in a towel before leaving the bathroom. In my dressing room, I quickly slide on a fresh pair of black pants and a belt before grabbing one of my shirts for Brooke.
When I return to the bathroom, she’s combing her long hair.
I come up behind her and meet her eyes in the enormous mirror, and that familiar jolt of pain grips me when I see her bruised face. I swallow thickly.
“I won’t break, I promise,” she adds, clearly reading my emotions like a book, something she’s getting good at. “I can move on from this.”
But her words gut me. She shouldn’t have to.
There is a hairdryer in one of the drawers. I remove it and start drying her hair, wanting to take care of every inch of her.
It’s not lost on me that I should be elsewhere.
That I should be corralling my men and preparing for retaliation.
But right now, I’m needed here, and seeing Brooke’s sweet face looking at me in the reflection of the mirror, I know where I’d rather be.
Here with my fiancée and my baby.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask after I’ve dried off her hair.
She shakes her head. “I’m too tired. I just need to sleep.”
She climbs into bed, and I crawl onto the bed beside her.
I’m so damn tired, and every muscle in my body aches to fall asleep with her in my arms. To listen to her soft breathing and let myself sink into the inky darkness of sleep.
But I need to keep her and the baby safe, and my lying here indulging in the comfort of her soft warmth is not going to make that happen.
War starts today. And it is going to be bloody and violent.
Not that I tell her that. I keep those thoughts to myself. And if she asks questions, I will downplay my responses so I don’t scare her, just like I downplayed the threat of Agent Michaels to Brooke because I need to protect her.
The truth is, Agent Michaels is a giant pain in the ass. Ever since I became pakhan, he’s been trying to find something to pin on me. He’s poked around in almost everything I am involved in. My business affairs. My financial affairs. My personal life. Obviously, he’s found nothing, but he’s like a dog with a bone, and he’s not going to stop until I’m in jail or he’s dead. And after learning about Brooke’s encounter with him, I’m contemplating the latter.
I wasn’t lying to Brooke when I said he won’t get anything on me. I move in circles that are unforgiving toward those who talk to the authorities, and I never leave any witnesses.
Well, except Wilson.
He’s the exception.
He’s only alive because Brooke gave up her freedom for his life.
But if anyone were stupid enough to open their mouths… well, things could get very tricky for me. Even with the swift hand of the bratva behind me, damage could be done before we brought it under control.
But today, I have bigger fish to fry.
Today, I’m going to decimate Vlad and everything dear to him. His business. His home. His car collection. His entire everything.
But for now, I’m going to wait until Brooke falls asleep.
And then ensure the impenetrable wall of security will keep her safe when I’m gone.
She reaches for me, and I hold her, waiting for that sweet lullaby of her sleeping breath. But it doesn’t come.
“I know you have to leave,” she says quietly. “But can you just stay with me a while?”
I think about the war I’m about to unleash on Vlad. But how can I leave her when she needs me?
My men know what I need from them today. They can gather the arsenal I need while I stay where I am needed the most. I will push back my urge for bloodshed and focus on Brooke’s needs.
Today can wait.
Right now is for her.