Thorns of Love (Thorns of Omertà #2)

1. Tatiana

TATIANA

P ush me, moya luna, and I’ll snuff out that pretty blue inferno in your eyes.

The words played on repeat in my mind. Was that a threat? All I had to do was utter a single word to Vasili and the war would be back on.

Except my brother intended to use me as his ‘ peace ’ offering.

My fingers trembled as I attempted to tug the zipper. I stared at my reflection in the long mirror. I couldn’t recognize myself. My light blonde hair, cascading down my shoulder. My eyes were clear, a turquoise so blue that people sometimes labeled it its own color. The freakish Nikolaev pale blue.

The beautiful dress, the color of palest lilac, swallowed my frame.

The dress’s neckline fell off my shoulders, accentuating my collarbone.

I was slowly gaining back the weight I had lost over the months since Adrian's death.

My curves were slowly filling in, the little life growing inside me still unnoticeable.

Nausea hit me suddenly, it had been coming and going. I clutched my stomach, but I knew all the contents of it were about to come out.

Spinning around, I rushed to the toilet. My dress hung half unzipped, falling off my shoulder as I grabbed the toilet and threw up. Except this time, there were no strong hands stroking my back. Violent heaves wracked my body.

“Tatiana.” My name sounded far away, drowned by the buzzing in my ear and ugly sounds my body made. A hand landed on my back, roaming it with soft strokes. “It’s okay. Just let it all out.”

A painful moan fell from my lips as I sat back on my knees. “I’m not going to make it through Sasha’s wedding,” I whimpered, my stomach feeling queasy.

Although I wasn’t certain whether it was the pregnancy or the thought of Sasha’s and Branka’s reception at The Den of Sin. So many fucking memories there.

It was where Adrian finally caved in. I thought back to that night. It seemed like a different lifetime. A different me.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. A sexy maid costume barely covered the round curves of my ass.

Dark black material was stark against the white lace, my long blonde locks making me look like a porn star.

Or maybe it was the built-in push up bra that gave me excessive cleavage.

My cheeks were flushed, probably the result of the shots we had before even leaving the house.

Shifting my weight back and forth between my feet, I let my gaze travel over the room. My oldest brother had a weird sense of humor. He learned the name Isabella and I assigned our dorm room and decided to name his bar in its honor. The Den of Sin.

“There is Adrian,” Isabella whispered and I followed her gaze. My heart fluttered in my chest. The dark masked man. Sophisticated. All dressed up. James Bond at its best. The suit hugged his muscular body perfectly and not even his ink could ruin his clean cut look.

I wanted to go to him but it didn’t feel right to leave Isabella behind. As if she read my thoughts, she said, “Go ahead. I’ll be around. Text me when you are done, and we can meet by the bar.”

I grinned and rushed to the man of my dreams. I was so damn ready for the repeat of our last rendezvous. Sex, lust, and alcohol saturated the air. I walked through the large room, coming to stand in front of Adrian.

“Mr. Bond,” I greeted him. “What are you drinking?”

“Vesper Martini.”

My lips curved. I wasn’t into James Bond movies but I knew what the fictional man drank. The Vesper. Shaken, not stirred.

“In that case, Mr. Bond, you gonna buy this girl a drink?”

He signaled the waiter and the drink appeared in front of me in no time. The waiter slid it across the bar and I caught it without spilling a drop.

“Impressive,” Adrian commended.

I shrugged. “I'm an impressive kind of girl.”

Those green eyes studied me and I wished he’d discard the mask. It was easier to read him without it. Somewhere along the way, Adrian became hard to read. Distant.

It was a girl’s worst nightmare. Sleep with a man and suddenly, they became cold and distant. Each time I tried to get closer, he put walls up or gave me vague answers. Frustration bubbled up my throat and I quickly swallowed it down, by downing my fancy martini.

I waited for him to say something. Anything.

Then I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I needed to know. I had been hung up on this man for years - fucking years. I was Tatiana Nikolaev damn it. Boys and men chased me all through high school and college. And here I was saving myself for this man who I couldn’t even tell if he wanted me.

“Adrian, if you’re regretting the gazebo, please be honest and say so,” I blurted out. “It’s not right to keep me hanging. I’m an adult,” I rattled. “I can handle rejection. Just say your peace and we’ll both move on.”

Adrian stood up, his chest brushing against mine. His eyes were on me, simmering with an anger that confused me. My cheeks grew warm, but his fury cooled my heated skin.

One second we stared at each other, the tension stretching and wrapping around my lungs. I didn’t understand it. It felt like there was a key piece I was missing, but I just couldn’t grasp it. That night in the gazebo was everything and so much more.

His gaze descended down my body. My throat squeezed and my breathing labored.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I blinked. He snatched my hand and, confused, I followed him. My skin lit like a beacon, aware somewhere deep in my mind that if this was a normal scenario, I’d punch the guy in the face and tell him to explain himself.

And here I was, following like a blind puppy.

We were outside the club now, Adrian’s black Maserati parked in the alley. My heels clicked against the pavement. Click. Click. Click . Until we came to a stop in front of his car.

He removed his mask, revealing his beautiful face.

“So you’ve been thinking about the gazebo?” he asked, his voice almost bitter.

I faltered. Something about the way he watched me nagged at me. My heart beat fast and hard. Alarms bells rang inside my brain. Except the warnings made no sense. This was Adrian Morozov, my big brother’s best friend. The boy who’d been around me my entire life pretty much.

He opened the passenger door to his Maserati, signaling for me to enter. My brothers always warned me to listen to my sixth sense. Always. This time, my sixth sense went way off the rails.

He grasped me by my nape, then swallowed my next breath in his mouth, along with all my common sense. I hadn’t had sex since that night. My body tingled, fire spreading through me, all-consuming. My blood sizzled and my stomach flipped.

“Get in, Tatiana,” he drawled against my lips.

His hands felt different than I remembered. His kiss felt different. “Did you change your cologne?” I breathed against his lips. He nodded. “Go back to that citrus and sandalwood,” I murmured, wrapping my hands around his neck.

The heat of his body seared against mine. I rubbed against him. Abstinence was a bitch now that I knew what I had been missing. I wouldn’t last long. In the back of my mind, I kept comparing it all to the gazebo. But in the haze, my lustful brain didn’t process it.

His fingers glided up my legs, his touch rough. I rose to my toes and kissed him. A rumble resounded in his chest and I pulled away.

“What?” I questioned, my tone breathless. He stilled, the look in his eyes torturous and conflicted. “What is it, Adrian?” I repeated, my cheeks hot.

He pulled my hair to one side and pressed his face into my neck. A shudder erupted beneath my skin, cold from the volatile energy emanating from him. Maybe he’d abstained from sex since that night too and he was barely holding on. His lips pressed against my skin, skimming over my flesh.

“That dress.” His tone was rough. His gaze caught fire as it traveled over my body. Heat bloomed between my thighs. “It makes you look so fucking hot.”

Goosebumps ran down my arms. A tremor rolled through my body.

“Car. Now,” he rasped.

I listened to his command without a single objection. I listened to it, ignoring the feeling that kept nagging at me in the back of my mind.

As soon as he pulled the door closed, he shifted me over him and I straddled his hips. Our mouths met. His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me closer to sit on his erection. It was new. Different. Unfamiliar.

I rocked myself against him. “Why did you make us wait so many years?”

My eyes, half-lidded and hazy, met his.

“You’re my friend’s little sister,” he stated. “I should have never touched you at the gazebo.”

I should be disappointed that he let my brother keep us apart. I wouldn’t have let anyone keep me from the one I love. But that was the thing with infatuation. It made you stupid and crazy.

I pulled his bottom lip between my teeth and kissed him.

He even tasted different from what I remembered.

I met his eyes, pushing his suit off his shoulders.

Then I undid the buttons on his shirt, eager to touch him.

The last time, I didn’t get to touch him.

Last time, he gave me pleasure. This time, I’d give him pleasure.

Pressing my fingers into his skin, I scraped my nails down his chest. Ink marred his flesh, revealing the casual Adrian I’d come to know over the years. I shifted on his erection, rocking my hips and grinding, desperate for release.

This was so much better than all the nights over the years I had to get myself off. I was starved for a man’s touch. Delirious with the need for it.

In one swift move, a shredding sound filled the air. A shaky breath escaped me as I met his gaze.

“The gazebo was nothing compared to this, Tatiana,” he growled.

The claim made no sense. I wanted to tell him that night in the gazebo was my fuel that kept me going. But before I could reply, he pulled the straps of my costume down and captured a nipple in his mouth. A white light shot behind my eyes. His hand squeezed my breast, while he sucked the other.