36. Aurora
36
AURORA
NIGHT
My heart is still racing as Ruslan's strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. His heat seeps into me, a comforting furnace against my sweat-cooled skin even as his cum oozes out of me.
His other arm is under the crook of my neck, and his hand traces lazy patterns along my growing belly, each touch sending little sparks dancing across my nerve endings.
"Mmm," I purr, wriggling against him. "I think that's one way to celebrate you becoming pakhan of pakhans."
His chest rumbles with soft laughter, the vibration traveling through to my back. "If we keep celebrating like that, I might not survive long in this role."
"Is the pakhan of pakhans asking his wife to be merciful?" I ask playfully, capturing his wandering fingers and bringing them to my lips.
"You've become quite the bratva wife," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
"I'm still learning the rules of the game." I twist my head to look at him.
"A game that you're very good at playing."
His golden eyes are heavy-lidded but alert, studying my face with an intensity that still makes my heart race. Even after everything we've shared, the power of his gaze makes me burn.
A comfortable silence falls between us, but I can sense something weighing on him. His body has tensed slightly behind mine, the rhythm of his fingertips growing more deliberate.
"What is it?" I ask softly.
He takes a deep breath. "I've made some changes to the documentary release schedule."
I turn in his arms to face him fully. "What kind of changes?"
"We're having the advanced screening at the Grauman Chinese Theater next week."
My eyes widen. "Next week? But I thought?—"
"I know," he cuts in, his hand sliding to cup my belly protectively. "But after Tamara, we need to move quickly."
"I understand," I say.
And I do.
But at the same time, I can't help feeling a crawling sense of unease. Everything is moving so quickly now. Tamara's funeral is barely behind us, Ruslan's nieces are still crying themselves to sleep, and now we're accelerating our plans.
It almost seems reckless.
"You don't approve," he says.
"It feels..." I search for the right words, but decide on the simple truth instead. "Rushed."
Ruslan's golden eyes meet mine. He pushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear with surprising gentleness for hands that have killed so many.
"It is," he admits. "But it has to be done now. With Tamara's death, it's proof that Semyon and Kristofer are closer than ever. We don't know if Kristofer has offered his services to the Triads as well. So I need to discredit him even while I kill Semyon."
"And how exactly does pushing up the advanced screening help do that?" I ask.
"The production company is going all out with promotion," he explains. "Every one of them highlighting that I'll be there in person."
"You're using yourself as bait," I say, the realization making my blood run cold.
He nods. "I want Semyon and the Triads to think they can take me out there. It's the perfect trap."
"And where will I be while you're playing matador with your own life?" I ask, already sensing his answer from the way his jaw clenches.
"Here. At home." He says it firmly, like it's already decided. "Where it's safe."
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended, but I don't soften it. "That's not happening."
Ruslan's brow furrows. "Aurora?—"
"No," I repeat, sitting up fully now, the sheet falling away from my naked body. "This documentary is my story. My family. My trauma. I can't hide from this."
"You're pregnant with our children," he counters, his voice rising slightly. "I can't risk?—"
"And what do you think will happen once Kristofer sees all of the promotions about how you'll be at the premier?" I cut him off. "Do you really think that he and Semyon will take the bait?"
"I won't put you in danger."
"You're not putting me anywhere. I'm choosing to do this."
"You're carrying our children."
"And they deserve parents who face their demons together, not a mother who hides while their father fights alone." I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath my fingers. "We promised each other, Ruslan. We do this together."
His hands find my shoulders, gripping them firmly. "But if something happens to you?—"
"And what if something happens to you while we're apart?" My voice breaks. "I nearly lost you once, I can't bear the thought of it happening again. Could you live with that if our positions were reversed? Would you stay behind?"
"That's different."
"No, it's not." I grab his face between my hands, forcing him to look at me. "Why is your need to protect me more important than mine to stand with you? Why is your love allowed to be reckless but mine must stay locked away?"
His golden eyes darken. "Aurora?—"
"I ran for seven years," I whisper fiercely. "I hid for seven years. I won't do that anymore. And it's all because of you. You can't tell me that after seven years, I'm not allowed to face my own demons. That I have to sit here with my heart in my throat wondering if next week might be the last time I'll ever see you."
"I'm not asking you to hide forever. Just this once?—"
"Just this once will become just one more time. Then another. Then another."
He falls silent, his forehead coming to rest against mine.
"We have to do it together," I continue softly. "I won't let him take you too."
Ruslan's hands slide from my shoulders to cradle my face, his thumbs gently wiping away tears I hadn't realized were falling.
Slowly, I see the resistance melt from Ruslan's face. His jaw relaxes, those piercing golden eyes softening as he stares at me. I know this look—he's surrendering to my logic, even if every protective instinct in his body is fighting against it.
"Fine," he says finally. "You'll come with me next week."
"Really?"
He nods once, resolute. "I'll adjust the promotion to include you as well. We'll face it together. Publicly."
I press my lips to his, pouring my gratitude into the kiss. When I pull back, I rest my forehead against his.
"Thank you," I whisper. "You're doing exactly what you promised that first night we met."
His eyebrows lift slightly. "Am I?"
"You are." I trace the lines of his furrowed brow. "You're empowering me to confront my past. You're accepting that I refuse to remain a damsel in distress."
A small, genuine smile tugs at his lips. "I guess I am."
"This is it, Ruslan. This is our chance to actually finish this." I take his large hand and press it more firmly against my growing belly. "For them."
He closes his eyes briefly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. When he opens them again, I see raw vulnerability there that few others have ever witnessed.
"I'm still afraid," he admits, his voice rough. "Of losing you. Of losing this family we're building. Seven years you ran from one monster. Now I'm asking you to face two."
"You won't lose me," I say with more confidence than I feel, but conviction I desperately need him to believe. "We're stronger together than we are apart. That's always been true."
I lean forward and kiss him again, deeper this time, trying to seal my promise with more than just words.
"Make love to me again," I whisper, my lips brushing against his ear as I press myself closer. "Every night until we have to face them."
My fingers trail along the strong line of his jaw. "I want to live in this moment with you for as long as we can. This temporary shelter before the inevitable storm."
Ruslan's gaze darkens with understanding. We both know what awaits us. The dangerous game we've committed to playing. With Semyon and Kristofer as our deadly opponents.
"I need this," I admit, vulnerability coating my words. "I need you."
He doesn't answer immediately, just stares at me with an intensity that makes my heart flutter with need.
My fingers trace the tattoo of the broken-winged bird on his hand. This mark of loss. This promise that he would never let another love slip through his fingers.
"Please, Ruslan," I whisper.
His answer comes in the form of his mouth capturing mine, his kiss deep and thorough. It speaks of possession and promises. Of protection in the midst of chaos.
His hands move down my body, trailing fire across my skin, until they find the place between my legs still sensitive from our earlier lovemaking.
I gasp against his mouth as his fingers part me, finding me already wet and wanting.
"Every night, zarechka, " he murmurs against my lips. "I'll give you every night until then."
My back arches as he slips one thick finger inside me, and then another.
"Yes," I breathe, hands clutching at his broad shoulders. "Make me feel something. Remind me that we're still alive."