Epilogue
NIKOLAI
Six months later
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across Adrianne’s bare shoulder.
She was sprawled across my chest, her hair a wild mess, one leg tangled with mine beneath the sheets.
This had become my favorite way to wake up, like her weight anchored me to something good, something real.
“Stop staring,” she mumbled against my skin, not bothering to open her eyes.
“How do you know I’m staring?”
“I can feel it.” She pressed a lazy kiss to my chest. “Creep.”
“Your creep.”
“Mmm, unfortunately.”
I ran my fingers through her hair, working out the tangles while she practically purred against me. Never in my wildest dreams could I have thought that this could someday be my life.
Six months since Vladimir died.
Six months of mornings like this.
Sometimes I still wake up expecting it all to be a dream. Expecting to find myself back in that cold, Russian mansion, alone and plotting revenge to get my ghosts back home.
I hadn’t realized that their home was with me. In the man I wanted to become. In the monster I refused to be.
“What are you thinking about?” She finally opened her eyes, those brown depths studying me with an intensity that still caught me off guard.
“You.”
“Liar.” She knew me too well. Adrianne smiled, tracing patterns on my chest with her finger. “You’ve got that brooding face on.”
“I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely do brood. It’s like, seventy percent of your personality.”
“What’s the other thirty percent?”
“Fifteen percent is a possessive psychopath.” She continued tracing, her touch feather light. “Ten percent is a surprisingly good cook. And five percent is a masked romantic who brings me flowers every Friday.”
“I bring you flowers because I like the way you smile when you smell them.”
“See? Masked romantic.”
I flipped us suddenly, carefully pinning her beneath me. She squealed, then laughed, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“I’ll show you romantic,” I growled, nipping at her earlobe.
“Nikolai!” She was laughing and pushing at my chest half-heartedly. “We have brunch with everyone in an hour.”
“Plenty of time.”
“We were late last time because of your ‘plenty of time.’”
“And?”
“And Ali made jokes about it for the entire meal.”
“They were funny.”
“They were not funny,” she protested, but I could feel her melting beneath me.
My hand drifted down to her stomach, palm spreading over the slight swell that had appeared in the last few weeks. The bump was barely there, just enough that I could feel the difference, but it had become my new obsession.
“Good morning, little one,” I murmured against Adrianne’s neck while my hand stayed on her belly.
“She can’t hear you yet,” Adrianne said softly, but her hand covered mine, holding it in place.
“She can feel me.” I shifted down, pressing my lips to her stomach. “Can’t you, moya malyshka? You know Papa’s voice already.” My baby girl.
“You’re ridiculous,” Adrianne breathed, but her fingers threaded through my hair, her loving gaze set on me.
I looked up at her, drinking in the sight. Hair wild across the pillow, cheeks flushed, that tiny bump that held our future. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m getting fat.”
“You’re growing our daughter.” I crawled back up, caging her beneath me, but careful to keep my weight off of her. “You’re fucking perfect.”
“So are you.” She kissed me, the tenderness of her lips almost melting me on the spot. “Shower?” she asked, eyes darkening in that way that told me she wanted more than just to get clean.
“Always.”
I helped her up, unable to resist running my hands over her changing body. Every new curve, every slight difference, it all fascinated me. Six months ago, I was ready to die for revenge. Now I had a reason to live growing inside the woman I’d accidentally kidnapped.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
In the bathroom, I turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature while she brushed her teeth. I watched her in the mirror, still amazed that this was my life now.
“Stop staring,” she said, her toothbrush making it almost unintelligible.
“Never.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, spitting and rinsing. When she turned to face me, I backed her against the counter, hands bracketing her hips.
“Nikolai…”
“Just let me look at you.” My hands skimmed up her hips and waist, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. “Let me memorize this. You. Here. Carrying our baby.”
“You memorize me every morning.”
“And I’ll do it until I die.” I kissed her, slow and deep. “Maybe even after.”
“That’s morbid.”
“That’s love.”
She laughed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “Come on, the water’s running.”
But when she turned toward the shower, I stopped her, pressing her back against the counter again. “Here first.”
I lifted her onto the counter, spreading her legs to step between them. “I want to watch you in the mirror. Want to see what I do to you.”
Her breath hitched as I kissed down her neck, my hands careful and reverent as they explored her body. Every touch was measured, controlled. She was carrying precious cargo now, and I’d kill myself before I let anything happen to either of them.
“Look,” I commanded softly, turning her head toward the side mirror. “Look how beautiful you are.”
She met her own eyes in the reflection as I pushed two fingers inside her, kneeling to get a taste of her. My little Babochka was a ravenous little thing lately, and it wouldn’t take too much for her to come apart under the pressure of my tongue and the thrust of my fingers.
The hormones were definitely working in her favor at this point.
I licked her clit, applying just enough pressure, and my fingers pumped in and out of her, her arousal drenching my skin and sliding into my palm.
When her legs shook and her hand clamped down on my head, I knew it would only take a few more seconds until I heard that song of hers, moaning and pleading, calling my name in her rapture.
“Oh, God.” She moaned, pushing my head further into her pussy, and I gladly obliged, eating her like she was my last meal.
“Fuck, you’re delicious,” I groaned against her pussy, my tongue darting into her tight entrance together with my fingers. I pushed one more digit into her, stretching her a little more, and being met with the sounds of her pleasure that had my cock aching to be buried inside of her.
Adrianne fisted my head now, her hips grinding against my face as she chased her release. Fuck, yes. This was my little virgin a few months ago, and look at her now.
She owned her pleasure, enjoyed the pain I inflicted on her sweet little ass when she deserved to be punished, and pleaded for my cock like she couldn’t survive without it. And the tears that ran down her face every time I fucked that mouth of hers were worn with pride.
“Don’t stop.” She demanded, and I kept my rhythm steady, licking her clit and sucking hard on it when she was about to shatter. “Yes, Nik. Oh my God, yes.”
Adrianne came all over my face, squirting on me for the first time ever.
I kept going, even though this new feature almost made me come without fucking her sweet cunt. I forced myself to think about something else as I rode off her orgasm, slowly withdrawing my fingers as she came down from that high.
“Inside me,” she gasped. “Please, I need you inside me.” Ravenous, indeed.
“Not here,” I said, helping her down. “Too dangerous. Don’t want you to slip.”
I led her to the bedroom, laying her on the bed with a gentleness that would have seemed foreign to me six months ago. Now it was second nature when it came to her.
“You’re being too careful. I need you to fuck me right now. No slow lovemaking.”
“No such thing.” I settled between her thighs, entering her slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
“Nothing hurts. I’m pregnant, not broken.”
“Fair enough, but I’m still on top, so I’m leading,” I said, beginning to move in slow, deep strokes.
“Harder,” she begged, but I kept the pace steady, controlled.
“Not risking it.”
“Please, Nik. I need you to fuck me hard and give me another one of those orgasms. Please make me come hard on your cock.”
“Jesus, Addy,” I held her steady, driving my cock into her, steadily increasing my pace. “Tell me if it hurts.”
“I will,” She replied, her hand moving towards her nipple, “More, Nik. Please.”
With my other hand, I pinched her other nipple, driving harder into her while trying not to shake her too much. My cock was darting in and out of her slick pussy, Adrianne moving to lift her legs higher to give me more access.
My thrusts were deeper now, making her roll her eyes while I struggled not to come before she did.
“I need you to come for me, Babochka. You’re too fucking amazing for me to hold off any longer.”
Opening her legs wider, I spat on her clit and rubbed it in circles with my thumb. I was desperate to let go, but fuck me if she wasn’t coming again.
“Oh, God, that’s amazing,” She moaned, “Come, Nik. Fill me up, Baby.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Fucking her harder, one hand playing with her clit and the other pulling on her nipple, I came so hard I think I blacked out for a second.
Adrianne came again, clenching around me, almost forcing me out of her pretty pussy with the way she was squeezing me.
“Okay, first…” I started, my breath ragged, “I’m gonna need you to squirt on my face more often. That was fucking hot.” She laughed, my cum leaking out of her. “Second, I love it when you boss me around. It’s cute. But you know you’ll be paying for that, right?”
“Looking forward to it.” She grinned, and I kissed those plump, just-fucked lips.
After our breaths evened out, I carried her to the shower that, in our haze of lust, was still running.
The hot water cascaded over us, steam fogging the glass walls. I washed her hair, taking my time, massaging her scalp until she was practically boneless against me.
“Turn around,” I said softly.
She did, and I lathered soap over her belly, probably for longer than necessary. But I couldn’t help it. That bump held everything I never thought I’d have.
“You know,” I said, hands still circling her stomach, “your mother’s been avoiding setting a wedding date.”
Adrianne laughed. “I can hear you, you know.”
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Anya.” I pressed my lips close to her bump. “Your mama thinks she can keep dodging the question, but Papa’s Russian. We’re very patient. And creative. I kidnapped her once; I can do it again.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” I turned her to face me, water running over us both. “Vegas is only a flight away. I could have you there and married before anyone noticed we were gone.”
“My brothers would kill you.”
“They could try. Wouldn’t be the first time,” I pulled her against me, her bump pressed between us. “But it would be worth it. Making you officially mine.”
“I’m already yours,” she reminded me, holding up her engagement ring.
“Not enough,” I growled. “I want it all. The paper, the name change, the whole fucking world knowing you belong to me.”
“And you belong to me,” she added.
“Always have. Since the moment you called me an asshole in that warehouse.”
“I was terrified.”
“You were fierce.” I kissed her forehead. “Even scared, you were ready to fight. That’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I was fucked.” I turned off the water, grabbing a towel to wrap around her. “Completely, utterly fucked.”
As I dried her off, taking extra care with her bump, she watched me with those eyes that saw everything good that was buried inside me.
“I love you,” she said suddenly.
“I know.”
“Good.” She went up on her toes to kiss me. “But I’m still not letting you kidnap me to take me to Vegas.”
“We’ll see about that, Babochka.”
“Nikolai Volkov, I’m warning you.”
“Warn away,” I said, wrapping a towel around my waist. “But one morning you’re going to wake up on a plane to Nevada.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
“I love you,” she corrected. “The impossible parts are just… seasoning.”
I pulled her back against me, my hand finding her bump again. “Set a date, Adrianne.”
“Why the rush?”
“Because I want our daughter to be born to married parents. Because I want you to be Mrs. Volkov when you deliver her. Because I’m a possessive bastard who needs everyone to know you’re mine in every way possible.”
She turned in my arms, looking up at me with those brown eyes that owned me completely. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Next month. Small ceremony. Family only.”
“Done.” I kissed her hard, victory and love making me dizzy. “But if you try to back out…”
“You’ll kidnap me, and I’ll wake up in Vegas, I know.” She was laughing against my lips. “God help me, I’m marrying a psychopath.”
“Your psychopath,” I corrected.
“My psychopath,” She agreed.
And as we got dressed for brunch, her complaining about how none of her clothes fit right anymore, me suggesting we skip brunch altogether, I couldn’t help but think about how different my life had become.
Six months ago, I was prepared to die for my ghosts.
Now, I was prepared to live for my blood.
How did an accident turn into the best fucking thing in my life? Probably divine intervention from the ghosts I never brought home.
Yet they lived with me.
In me.
In them.
THE END