44. Santo
Chapter 44
Santo
S he is resting now, curled up on the couch, the afternoon sunlight spilling over her like a golden halo. I stand by the doorway, barely breathing as I watch her.
How did she do this to me?
One look, one smile, and my chest tightens with something I can’t quite describe—but I know it is hers.
I’m hers.
She is my reason, my anchor, my everything, and yet, I can’t shake the fear that I might ruin her.
Vasilisa doesn’t just accept me—she said she accepts all of me. Even Scythe.
“I’ve known about Scythe.”
Her voice echoes through my thoughts, her eyes were filled with something I don’t deserve. How could she not be afraid? Scythe is nothing but darkness and destruction, and she is light.
My light.
She is warmth. She is… perfect.
Too perfect for a man like me, with a life made on blood and violence, I don’t deserve her.
But damn it, I want to. She isn’t afraid, and that both terrifies me and breaks something loose in my chest. For the first time in my life, I feel seen —completely seen.
But I should keep Scythe away from her.
I will keep Scythe away from her.
One wrong move could tarnish her, stain this thing we were building together. The thought alone makes me want to lock her away, keep her safe.
From me.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I lean against the wall. This month, I promised myself, was ours. No guards, no outside threats, no distractions.
Just us.
And if I have to spend every second reminding her that she is the best damn thing to ever happen to me, I will.
I cross the room, crouching down beside the couch, my hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her lashes flutter, and I smile despite myself. “Vasilisa,” I murmur, my voice low. “Wake up, Dea. What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”
She stirs, her lips parting in a soft sigh before her eyes open to meet mine. A small, sleepy smile curls at the corners of her mouth. “Swimming,” she whispers, her voice light but certain.
“Swimming,” I echo, brushing my thumb across her cheek.
“Yes,” she smiles, “I never got to try the indoor pool, can we?”
“Of course,” I respond, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before rising. “I’ll get everything ready.”
I use to swim laps in this pool, almost everyday, but I haven’t used it in years. I didn’t have the time, any time in the basement was for the gym or the range. Never the pool.
Yet here I am, watching her let the robe slide off her shoulders, revealing a pale pink bikini that leaves far too little to the imagination—and yet, not nearly enough. She is breathtaking. Ethereal. A masterpiece sculpted by gods, and somehow, impossibly, she is my wife.
My breath catches, my pulse stuttering in my chest. She’s delicate in ways that make me want to shield her from the world, but there’s confidence in her now. A grace, an awareness of just how stunning she is. Because she knows . She knows she’s mine .
She catches me staring, her lips curling into that soft smile that’s both shy and teasing at the same time. “You’re staring,” she says, turning her back to me as she dips her toes into the water.
“How could I not?” My voice is rougher than I intend, and I clear my throat, trying to get a grip.
She glances over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “You know, you didn’t have to request a bikini this small just to look at me. You could’ve just gotten me naked upstairs.”
I smirk, leaning against the wall, crossing my arms. She’s right. I had all her clothes picked out, that included.
“You’ve been wanting to swim since you got here. I’m just giving you what you want.”
“What I want?” she asks, stepping deeper into the pool until the water laps at her waist. She tilts her head, her hair catching the light. “What I want , Santo, is for you to stop hovering at the edge like some bodyguard and get in here.”
Her words are a challenge, and the spark in her eyes dares me to refuse. I can’t help but grin. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she quips, a smirk playing at her lips, turning away and starting to float on her back. The smooth, graceful curve of her body distracts me for longer than I’d like to admit.
I pull my shirt over my head, her laughter echoing softly as I toss it aside. “I think you’re just trying to get me in here so you can seduce me like the siren you are,” I tease as I step toward the water.
Her laugh is pure light. “If I wanted to seduce you, Santo, I wouldn’t need a pool to do it,” she retorts with all the confidence in the world and I love it.
I love her.
The sight of her—the way the water clings to her skin, the way she watches me, daring me to close the space between us—that undoes me.
She undoes me.
She doesn’t just belong here, in this pool, in this house. She belongs with me , and I’ll spend every day of my life proving it to her.
I dive in, cutting through the still water like a blade. She shrieks, instinctively trying to escape, but she doesn’t stand a chance. Not against me. I surface behind her, looping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against me. She squirms in my hold, laughing breathlessly as she tries to break free.
“I’ve got you now, siren,” I tease into her ear while nuzzling the side of her neck, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.
She slows down her struggles and relaxes against me, playfulness giving way to something more intimate. Her back molds perfectly against my chest, every curve fitting me like a puzzle piece. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply; cashmere, warm amber...Vasilisa.
“You’re dangerous Santo,” she gasps, her body shivering with goosebumps as my lips graze her neck and my tongue leaves a trail of fire in its wake.
“I am,” I say, my voice low as I leave my mark on her skin. “But you’ll always be safe in my arms.”
Her breath hitches as my lips linger on her skin, and I feel her heartbeat quicken against me. The warm water ripples softly around us, but the air between us crackles with something far more potent. Her hands come up to grip my forearms, her fingers tracing the veins there as if grounding herself.
“Always safe?” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the water.
“Always,” I murmur, pressing my lips to the shell of her ear. My arms tighten around her, holding her flush against me. “Do you trust me, Dea?”
Her head tilts back slightly, resting against my shoulder as she looks up at me with those luminous eyes. “With my life,” she breathes.
Her words ignite something primal in me, a fire that I can’t contain. I turn her in my arms, her body gliding effortlessly through the water until she’s facing me. My hands find her waist, fingers splayed against her warm, slick skin as her legs brush against mine.
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Dea,” I murmur, my voice dark. My thumb strokes slow, torturous circles over her hipbone, watching the way her breath hitches. The way she feels me.
“Why not?” she challenges, her gaze steady, unflinching. She’s bold right now and it’s maddening.
“Because I’ll never letting you go,” I confess, my forehead resting against hers.
“Good.” Her voice is steady but tinged with a softness that breaks me. Her hands slide up my chest before wrapping around my neck.
I can’t hold back anymore. My mouth claims hers, urgent, starved, pouring every unspoken promise, every ounce of devotion, every wicked thing I want to do to her into this single kiss. Her lips part for me, and the kiss deepens, the taste of her driving me wild.
The water swirls around us as I lift her, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. I carry her to the edge of the pool, her back pressing against the cool tiles. The contrast of the cold against her warm skin makes her shiver, and I take advantage, trailing my lips down her jawline, her throat, and lower.
“Santo,” she breathes, her voice trembling with anticipation. My name on her lips is a prayer, a plea, and I’ll worship her the only way I know how.
“You’re mine, Vasilisa,” I murmur against her collarbone, my hands exploring her body that have been driving me insane. “Every inch of you.”
She arches against me, her nails digging into my shoulders as a soft moan escapes her lips. The sound is intoxicating, and I know there’s no going back now.
“Say it,” I growl, my tone razor-sharp, my control snapping as Scythe claws his way to the surface. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Her luscious, wet lips part in a shaky sigh, her voice coming out as a sweet whisper of surrender. “I’m yours, Santo.”
Those three words are my damnation and salvation all at once. They strip me bare, leaving me raw and exposed to this woman who has managed to weave herself into the very fabric of my being.
I kiss her again with a ferocity that leaves us both breathless. Her hold on me tightens as she loses herself in the kiss, matching my urgency with her own. My fingers trailing down her body between us, gently tugging at the hem of her bikini, her gasp swallowed by my lips.
My skin is on fire where it touches hers. I want her, but not in here.
In one swift motion, I lift from the water, cradling her in my arms, her legs still wrapped around my hips, the cold air hitting our skin making her shiver. I move quickly, carrying her out of the pool, but Vasilisa has other ideas as her nails rake across my back and her lips kiss down my jaw.
“I don’t want to wait,” she whimpers.
My eyes lock onto the nearest wall, my instincts taking over. The smooth surface will anchor us, but it’s her I need to ground me. I stride toward it, her body melting against mine, her lips trailing fire down my neck.
“I can’t wait,” I growl against her skin, my voice raw and unsteady. I press her against the wall, pinning her there, my grip firm on her hips, her warmth searing through me like a brand. My mouth crashes into hers, claiming, consuming, leaving no space for anything but me.
Her fingers weave into my hair, anchoring herself to me. Her lips part beneath mine and our tongues dance together in a kiss so intense that it feels like a lightning bolt has struck between us. I press her harder against the wall, my hands roaming freely along her body - every inch of exposed skin, I pull away resting my forehead on hers.
“Hold on tight,” I warn, my voice rough, teetering on the edge of restraint. My fingers pull at the strings of her bottoms, letting them fall between us. I press her harder against the wall. “Because I’m not going to be gentle.”
She nods, her breaths coming in faster, her pupils swallowing up her irises. “I don’t want you to be.”
The raw need in her voice shatters any last vestige of restraint within me. I hoist her higher against the wall, freeing my hardened cock I position the head at her entrance and lower her on to me slowly, the sensation of her warm, wet tightness enveloping me causing me to let out a guttural groan.
“Santo,” she gasps, her body seizing up for a moment as she adjusts. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders.
I groan into her neck, my hands splayed across her lower back to keep her pressed against the cold wall. The contrast of temperatures, the hot and the cold, is dizzying.
“I need...” she starts, but is interrupted by a whimper as I shift within her. Her eyes flutter shut and she rotates her hips slightly, urging me deeper inside her.
“You need nothing but this,” I cut in, watching as flush creeps up from her chest to the hollow of her throat.
I start to move, setting a punishing pace that leaves us both gasping. Each thrust pushes her hard against the wall, the cold of it disappearing under the heat of our bodies. Her name intertwines with curses that tumble from my lips, her soft cries matching the rhythm of our bodies.
Her thighs tighten around my waist, her nails dig deeper into my shoulders. The sensation is exhilarating, each gasp from her mouth spurring me on, driving me deeper.
“Please Santo,” she manages to hiss between pants, arching her back and tilting her hips, allowing me even deeper access. Never one to deny her - or myself - I oblige, adjusting my angle to hit that sweet spot within her. A loud moan escapes from her lips, echoing off the tiled walls surrounding us as her pussy clenches around my cock.
“Santo please ,“ she whispers again, the sweet sound of my name on her lips like a sacred incantation breaking through the haze of pleasure fogging my mind.
My hands leave their position on her hips to reach between us. The moment my finger slides across her sensitive clit, she comes apart in my arms with a shuddering cry.
The sight of Vasilisa coming undone does it for me — her pussy tightens around my cock, her mouth opens in a silent scream, and it ignites something within me. The pleasure builds, coiling tight like a spring ready to explode.
“Santo,” she pants, digging her nails deeper into my back.
With one final, hard thrust, I find my release. My body stills as waves of pleasure wash over me. I let out a low groan, burying my face in the curve of her neck as my cock pulses inside her.
Vasilisa clings to me, her body trembling from the aftershocks. I hold her close against the wall as we both come down from our high.
***
Vasilisa sits across from me at the kitchen table, legs tucked beneath her, wearing my shirt—the one she grabbed from the basement floor. Too focused on food, she didn’t bother putting on anything else. She pops another piece of ravioli into her mouth and tilts her head, her eyes curious.
“So, ZEUS… you named your company after the king of the gods?”
I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “Not quite. It actually stands for Zonal Electronic Universal Surveillance.”
Her brows lift. “That’s... actually pretty smart.”
I shrug, watching the way her eyes brighten. “It fit. Zeus commanded power and control. When I built the company, I wanted it to reflect that same authority in tech—complete oversight, complete dominance. Everything under my command.”
She rests her chin on her hand, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “How fitting considering,” she says gesturing toward the cameras in the kitchen. “So, first Athena, now Artemis. What’s next? The goddess of even more surveillance cameras?”
I laughed, low and deep. “Artemis is more specialized, alarm systems and security integrations. It’s still in development, though. My co-operator, Salvatore, has been handling things while I’ve been focused on NovaRael, but his wife’s about to have their first kid. I might have to juggle both soon.”
“That’s a lot to handle,” she says, her voice soft with genuine admiration. “I think it’s fascinating, though, how into mythology you are.”
“As a kid, I was obsessed,” I admit, running a fingertip along the table’s edge. “The gods, the myths… and the stars. The stars held everything, the constellations, the stories. I read about them all the time.”
Her eyes light up as she leans closer. “I love the stars too. I used to stare at the night sky for hours when I was little, counting them. Then I started learning about constellations, and it became my favorite thing. I always wanted one, as if I could pluck it from the sky.” She shrugs, her voice soft, almost wistful.
I grin, my chest tightening at the thought of her as a child, wide-eyed and full of wonder. But now, as her gaze drifts back to me, I see something else entirely. Her eyes linger a beat too long on my face, then flick lower, her teeth catching her bottom lip. It’s not the stars she’s thinking about anymore.
“The gods are in the stars,” I murmur, leaning in just slightly, my voice dipping. “And you’re staring at me like I might be one.”
Her breath catches, color blooming high on her cheeks as her gaze flicks back to mine. “I wasn’t—” she starts, but the way her voice catches betrays her. She quickly averts her gaze, confidence wavering into something softer…shyness. “I mean, you’re just... you’re hard not to look at.”
Her honesty catches me off guard, and I smirk, reaching across the table to tip her chin back toward me. “You don’t need to be shy, Dea. You’re mine, remember?”
Her lips part, and for a moment, she looks like she wants to argue, but then she sighs softly, her shoulders relaxing.
“I—” she tries, but the hitch in her voice betrays her. she hesitates, her fingers brushing her flushed cheeks. “Sometimes you look at me like I’m the only person in the world, and it makes me forget how to think.”
Her words punch through me, soft and sure, and for a moment, I can only stare. “That’s because you are ,” I say, my voice steady, my thumb brushing along her jaw.
“It’s just different with you,” she says softly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. Her words stir something in me, and I lean back slightly, studying her.
“Different how?” My voice is careful, curious, as if her answer could shift the ground beneath us.
She hesitates, gaze dropping to the table, silence stretching between us before she finally speaks. “When I used to take art classes, I had to paint nude models. Men would come and go, and it was just…” She shrugs, her voice casual, as if the idea of her staring at other men naked wasn’t something I’d latch onto.
My jaw clenches, jealousy sparking hot and fast in my chest. “Nude models?” I repeat, my voice a little sharper than I intend.
Her eyes dart up to meet mine, and she must have caught the edge in my tone because she gives me a tiny, nervous smile. “It wasn’t like that, Santo. It was just for art.”
“For art,” I echo, my fingers drumming once against the table before I fold my arms across my chest. My mind betrays me, conjuring an unwelcome image of her, brush in hand, studying some faceless man with a focus that should belong only to me. “So you spent hours staring at other men?”
Her lips part in surprise, and then she laughs, the sound soft and disarming. “It wasn’t like that,” she say again, shaking her head. “You really are ridiculous sometimes.”
“Ridiculous?” I raise a brow, but before I could press further, she cuts me off.
“It’s different because…” She trails off, biting her lip, her cheeks blooming with color.
“Because what?” I press, my voice low, still doused in a possessive edge I can’t quite suppress.
Her fingers still, and she glances up at me through her lashes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because you’re mine , Santo.”
I freeze, her words hitting me harder than I expect. The vulnerability in her steady gaze, her cheeks flushing deep causes something inside me to shift. The jealousy, the frustration—all of it melts away, leaving behind only the undeniable truth.
She’s right.
I am hers, as much as she is mine.
A slow smirk tugs at my lips, and I reach across the table to take her hand in mine. “Yeah, Dea. I am.”
Her blush deepens, and she ducks her head. I can’t help but chuckle as I stand, pulling her gently to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you that sweet treat I know you want.”
I lift her tossing her over my shoulder as her squeals fills the room. Her laughter is infectious, and I feel it surge through me like a live current. My heart pounds in rhythm with her giggles, and a warm satisfaction curls within me. I’ve made her happy.
Her happiness now belongs to me.
Just like she does.