Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Ember
“Well, that escalated quickly.” The calm tone of my voice doesn’t match the energy of the rapid beating of my heart or the way my brain short circuits at the word marriage.
Rodion snorts. This is probably going to be our downfall, not gonna lie. Never taking things seriously enough. Honestly? That’s why we’re in this situation to begin with.
I swallow hard and try to talk, but I don’t know what to say or how to proceed.
Why does it make me fearful to hear the word “marriage” but want to cry when he follows that up with “temporary”?
I never thought I wanted to be… married.
Most especially to an actual man of the Bratva.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “To get married on a temporary basis like we’re two drunk, horny bastards at an Elvis chapel in Vegas?”
“Of course not.” His voice is husky. I can’t tell if he’s angry or emotional or what.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
And I don’t care that we haven’t known each other for long.
I feel alive when I’m with you. And for the first time in my whole life, I…
feel like I can actually imagine a future with someone. But I can’t force you to love me.”
Could anyone? And does love have anything to do with this?
Because I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust the way my heart beats faster, imagining a life with Rodion, while at the same time, my brain is trying desperately to find a way out of this situation.
What he doesn’t know is… I’m halfway there. I have reservations, yes, but I love being around him. Marrying into that family though? I saw those ruthless men. One of them was holding a gun.
I know what Rodion is capable of, and the thought of—of spending the rest of my life with a man like Rodion makes me melt like ice on a frying pan.
“You said it’s only temporary? Until this blows over?”
My throat tightens, the reality of the situation crashing in on me.
“Yeah.” But he doesn’t meet my eyes when he says it, and I can feel the tension in his body.
Rodion doesn’t want temporary.
And I’m starting to fear that…neither do I.
“Do I have a choice?”
When his gaze snaps back to mine, my heart stutters. I see the raw, ruthless man who’s willing to burn the entire world down if it means keeping me safe.
His eyes darken with something I can’t quite name.
“No.”
I look away from him. I was the one who fell for a man I knew to be dangerous, a full-fledged man of the Bratva. I let fantasy color my judgment, and now…
There’s no turning back.
“I know I’m not a good man, Ember,” he says quietly, but there’s no softness or regret in his tone. Nothing but sheer, brutal honesty.
And isn’t that one of the things I love best about him? “I’ve ended lives and ruined others, more than you’ll ever know. I’m Bratva. I will always be Bratva. And that doesn’t change because I love you.”
I blink. My breath catches. I try to drag air into my lungs. The word hangs between us like a fallen star, brilliant and unexpected.
Love.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper, even as a part of me leans into him, leans into us, and I wonder…
Did I?
“I didn’t either.” He cups the side of my neck in his large, rough palm, his thumb brushing the spot where my pulse races as if reassuring himself that I’m still here. “But here we are. And I’m not letting you go.”
His words are a vow, said with finality and surety. I know what he’s offering me isn’t hearts and flowers, but something deeper, weightier, undeniably bloodstained and dangerous… and bigger than both of us.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper, my words choked.
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. “Maybe we learn together.”
I wrap my hand around his shoulder. Bracing myself. “Are you sure we have no other choice? None?”
“No.” One word that falls like a gavel.
There is no other choice.
I close my eyes, but he lifts my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “You want the truth?”
I swallow. “Always.”
His gaze hardens, something lethal flickering in the depths of his eyes.
“If another man ever tried to touch you, I’d break his hands.
And if he tried to take you from me, I’d tie him to a chair, making him watch me ruin you—slow and raw, before I cut out his eyes and left him to bleed out, knowing the last thing he ever saw was me owning you. ”
Oh dear god.
There’s no hesitation. No apology.
“I’d bury his body and sleep like a fucking baby, Ember.”
His soft touch, a thumb brushing over my bottom lip, belies the utter violence of his words. “You understand me, little queen? Do you know what you give me? I don’t share my wife.”
It’s so very different hearing those words in real life, hearing the sincerity and devotion and knowing he means every word of his declaration.
His promise.
There is no choice, but he’s telling me what I’m getting into.
“One more thing.”
I don’t know if I can take another. I swallow and nod.
“You have to delete your account,” he says in a rush of heated words. “Now.”
My heart sinks. I close my eyes, fighting the rush of tears.
I poured so much into that account. My identity as a romance lover is part of who I am.
For the first time in my entire life, swooning over a shared love of all things romance makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger, a community of people who haven’t yet given up on dreaming and who still believe that everyone deserves to be loved passionately. That everyone deserves a happy ending.
When I open my eyes, he’s still staring at me.
Can I give up this part of who I am for what could be the real thing?
“I know,” I whisper. “I figured as much.” But when I pull up my account and see my friends, the notifications, the videos waiting to be watched, my heart aches. I feel like I’m losing an actual part of myself.
But I got in too deep. I took things too far. And now, I’m facing the consequences.
With trembling hands, I click the big red button and confirm the next step. I blink. A hot, fat tear rolls down my cheek.
“It’s done,” I whisper. My head falls to his shoulder. “And yours?”
He exhales. “It’s already gone. I should’ve known better. It was too risky.” My heart swells when he kisses the top of my head. “But I know it was harder for you than me, little queen.”
And then I’m crying. A part of me feels like it’s silly for me to react like this, but it isn’t just the account or the followers or even romance.
I’ve severed a part of who I am and what I love, something I forged with my own two hands.
I faced imposter syndrome and took risks.
But I worked so hard, hours upon hours crafting the perfect videos and photos, reading thousands of books, distilling feelings, hopes, and dreams…
I’m still pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around me. I drop my head to his shoulder and cry. It’s not just the account, it’s everything.
Shawn coming back into town and knowing he’ll be there when I go back home.
Meeting Rodion’s family and knowing what they think about me.
My choices going up in flames and being forced to make a life-changing decision.
Losing so much of what I’ve fought for, built…
His hand slides slowly up and down my back. Steady. Grounding.
And despite everything, I melt a little. The thoughts and fears begin to quiet. I didn’t know it could be like this.
“You didn’t lose it all,” he whispers into my hair, his voice low and rough. “You built it once, and you can build it again.”
I sniffle as he continues. “And you kept what mattered most.”
I look up to him. For the first time since we got here, his eyes are dancing with that familiar heat-laced humor that drew me to him to begin with. Rodion will never take life too seriously, and it’s the hottest damn thing I never expected to need.
“Oh?” I ask, my own voice lilting with humor. “What’s that?”
He snorts. “Me, obviously.”
I open my mouth to protest when his mouth crushes mine. He tastes like victory and danger, and I’m fucking here for it. He swallows my moan as his hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. I straddle him, gasping against his mouth, but he doesn’t let me go.
I don’t want him to. “Don’t hold back,” he growls, dragging his lips like a brand down the side of my neck before he bites hard enough to make me jolt.
“We’re alone now. Let yourself go.” He traps my hands in one of his much bigger ones and whispers in my ear.
“Let go, little queen. Give yourself to your king. Tell me you’re mine. I want to hear you say it.”
I look up into his eyes. I want him to claim me. I want him in me.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
I watch as something snaps in him. I feel it.
With effortless ease, his muscles bunching, he lifts me and carries me to the huge bed in the corner of the room.
He drops me, his movements hurried, almost feral, as he reaches for my clothes and tears them off me.
Fabric rips and pulls. In a hurried frenzy, I rush to help him.
I’ve never wanted a man inside me so bad in my life.
His shirt hits the floor before I can blink, and I take a moment to touch his beautiful, perfect body.
None of those videos did him justice. They didn’t capture the raw power and strength or the way he holds himself back so he doesn’t completely annihilate me.
My mouth dries at the sight of him before me—all muscles, scars, and lethal, heartbreaking beauty.
“You’re staring.” That smirk makes my ovaries cry. But there’s a darkness in his gaze that half dares me to look away.
“Maybe I like what I see.”
He’s on me in seconds, grasping my wrists and pinning them down before he drags his teeth down the column of my neck.
His tongue lashes out, and I arch into him with a moan I can’t stifle.
“You’re mine,” he whispers against my ear.
“Every heartbeat. Every breath. Mine, my sweet, beautiful little queen. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” I say with a moan.