Kira
Timur walks through the door as I'm lying in bed with my buzz wearing off and I never hear the lock click.
He left me free the whole time he was gone, but all I managed to do was lie in bed and get drunk.
Now, watching him stalk in covered in blood, I push myself up and wince at how much my body still hurts.
That sick bastard did a number on my body, though I'm bruised because of slipping in that mud.
"You're awake," he says, but his head is hanging, looking down at his phone.
He's covered in blood, stained from neck to belly and across both sleeves of his suit coat too.
It's not on his hands but they're bright pink, like he scrubbed himself raw to clean off the evidence.
I'm not sure if I should be scared or not, but I'm leaning more toward yes.
My eyes flick to the bottle on the bedside table, empty now because I finished it, and it did no good.
I still couldn’t knock myself out. "I couldn’t sleep.
" That blood scares me. It could be Victor's or my father's—or both. He could be here to finish the task of murdering every last Mirov on the planet. I don’t know what's going through his mind, and I don't pretend to read his thoughts.
"Someone wants to speak to you..." he says as he hands me his phone. There's a call connected, but my eyes are a bit blurry from being tired and a little buzzed still. I glance up at him and grimace, not sure what this is.
But I take the phone and press it to my ear, saying, "Hello?"
"Kira, sweetheart?"
My heart soars.
The voice on the other end of this line is my Uncle Victor. He sounds very much alive and unharmed, and tears well up. "Uncle Victor?"
"Yes, honey, I'm here..." He pauses, and it's long enough for a few tears to slip down my cheeks.
I sniffle and sit back, still frightened of what Timur may do to me.
Just because he lets me talk to my uncle does not mean he forgives me.
"Kira, I've made arrangements for you to come home if you'd like... Tonight, even."
Again, my heart lurches in my chest, and now my eyes flick up to look at Timur. His face is contorted in a pained expression, one of remorse and sorrow, but I don't understand what's going on.
"Tonight?"
"Yes, dear, or you can stay."
I scowl in confusion, shaking my head. "Stay?"
Timur's eyes meet mine and I watch him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as Victor continues.
"Mr. Kuzin has requested a chance to speak with you about this, and after the way he worked things out, I've granted that request, honey.
" I still don't understand and I want to tell him as much, but Timur comes to sit on the bed beside me.
"If you want to come after that, he will let you.
We have a truce now, and you won't be harmed. "
"But..." My head is spinning, but my heart is starting to anchor itself in Timur's expression.
"Just listen. You'll understand everything." Victor hangs up, and I slowly lower the phone from my ear to my lap.
Timur doesn't speak right away, but after the way he left things earlier, I'm not sure what he wants to say to me. When he walked out, I thought he hated me. He threatened to kill me in no uncertain terms and I tried so hard to cry myself to sleep.
Now I sit here wondering why my uncle would offer me the chance to stay with him. I can only hope it means Timur has seen the light and understands he has nothing to fear from me or my family.
"Morin is dead." His shoulders droop more. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands. "Your uncle pulled the trigger. I couldn't do it—not after everything he did for me. But I made damn sure he couldn't lie anymore before Victor walked in."
The blood all over him says enough. I don’t really need him to describe the details of what happened. I really don't need that mental picture floating around in my nightmares. I already have to fight off the picture of Nika's bloody face half the time.
I let him sit with that confession for a few moments because I'm not sure what to say to him. I know they were friends and it must be very difficult knowing your best friend is dead because he was a lying son of a bitch.
Timur's phone feels like a brick in my lap.
For weeks I've been locked up with no way to contact the outside world.
It feels strange to have a phone in my hands without feeling afraid someone will shout at me now.
I stare at it in lieu of any real words to say, and I never see him straighten or reach for me.
When he does, I startle and try to pull back, but he gently takes the phone from my hand and sets it on the nightstand, nodding at the door. "Your uncle and my brother have struck a truce... So you can go home."
Somehow, his good news doesn't feel like good news, and judging by how he's looking at me, I don't think he thinks it is, either. It feels like breaking up or divorce—or how I imagine divorce feels. Painful and uncomfortable, and very foreign.
"Tim—" I start, but he cuts me off by pressing a finger to my lips.
"Victor asked you to listen to me, so I'm going to say this one time.
" His eyes flash with anger, then it fizzles out as he starts talking.
"You lied to my face, Kira. You knew what you were doing and you purposefully deceived me...
Look at my chest, at all this blood all over me. This is what I do to liars."
I swallow hard, but I don’t respond because he can't possibly think Victor or my father will be okay with him doing whatever "that" is to me.
"You look me in the eye and you tell me that the rest is true... That you love me, and that everything that happened between us wasn't some fucking lie you cooked up to stay safe. Tell me, please, because I'm dying inside and I need to hear it."
"Oh, Tim," I moan, leaning into him. My forehead presses to his and he cups my cheek harder, brushing a line over my cheekbone with his thumb. "Every bit of it was real for me. I never lied about anything else, just my name and my family association, and—"
"Marry me?"
His words freeze me in place. It's so much, so fast, and I'm overwhelmed. I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster of emotions, scared one second, angry the next, and now I’m being proposed to.
I sit back and look him in the eye, but he doesn't give me a single second to think before he's speaking again.
"I know how insane it sounds, but I knew," he says, shaking his head.
His fingers still curl around my neck. "I think I knew the minute you told me you were a Belova that you weren't. And then I still found you so intriguing, and beautiful—fuck.
So fucking beautiful. I let you see the real me, Kira, and I'd never felt safer letting someone in.
Please, don't make me wait another forty years to find someone. Just say yes. We'll figure it out."
I smile at him, feeling butterflies sizzle and pop in my chest as I drag my lower lip through my teeth and pinch it in place.
That was the sweetest proposal I think any man could ever give me, and I don’t need some grand gesture or theatrics.
Just the fact that he doesn't want me to leave his home is enough.
I don't want to go back to an empty apartment. I want his arms around me.
"On one condition," I tell him, unable to stop grinning.
"Name it."
"I want to sleep in your bed. This one is lumpy."
He chuckles as he pulls me closer, claiming my lips in a searing kiss that warms my insides. "Do you steal the covers?" he purrs, kissing me again and again. And when he finally lets me get a breath, I respond.
"Only when it's cold and you've made me mad." I laugh softly against his mouth, the sound turning into a breathless sigh as he deepens the kiss. His hand slides from my neck down my back, pulling me closer. Timur has been known for being slow and sweet, but right now, I don’t want him to be.
“Deal,” he growls, lips brushing mine with every word. “But if you hog the covers, I’m pinning you down until you behave.”
“Promises, promises,” I tease, nipping at his bottom lip. I push his suit coat off his shoulders and he shrugs out of it, then I unbutton the dress shirt one button at a time as I say, “You talk a big game for someone still fully dressed, Tim.”
He chuckles as he helps me pull the shirt off, then tosses it to the side. “Then fix it,” he challenges, that cocky half-smirk curling his lips. His hands slide under the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing—his T-shirt—fingers skimming up my bare thighs. “Or are you all talk tonight?”
Heat curls low in my belly as I reach for the waistband of his pants, popping the button open with a flick of my fingers. “Careful. Keep talking like that and I might steal more than your clothes.”
Timur groans softly when my nails scrape lightly down his stomach.
He lifts his hips so I can shove his pants and briefs down his legs in one go.
“Fuck, you look good in my boxers,” he rasps, voice dropping as he kicks the rest of his clothes off the bed.
“But I think I’d like you better out of them. ”
Before I can fire back, he tugs my T-shirt up and over my head.
Cool air hits my skin, but his gaze is hotter, raking over me like he can’t get enough.
I bite my lip, grinning, and hook my thumbs into the boxers I’m wearing, sliding them down my hips.
He helps with eager hands as the fabric disappears somewhere onto the floor.
“Now we’re even,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss.
His mouth claims mine again, tongue sliding against mine making my toes curl. One of his hands trails down my side, over my hip, and slips between my thighs. I groan into the kiss as his fingers brush over me, teasing at first, circling lightly before he presses one thick finger inside.
“Mmm,” I breathe against his lips, hips twitching up toward his hand.
He smiles, adding a second finger and curling them just right so they hit that perfect spot inside me. “That’s it, Kira,” he murmurs, never breaking the kiss for long. “Let me feel you.”
I moan softly, legs falling open wider as he starts a steady rhythm, pumping his fingers in deep while his thumb finds my clit and rubs a perfect circle around it.
The pleasure builds quickly, spreading through my belly with every stroke.
He keeps kissing me the whole time—deep, hungry kisses that match the movement of his hand, swallowing every little whimper and gasp I make.
“You’re so wet,” he growls, nipping my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “And all I had to do was propose."
“Shut up,” I manage to gasp, but it comes out breathy and weak as I rock my hips against his hand, chasing the friction. My nails dig into his bicep, holding on while the heat coils tighter and tighter. “You’re the one who's teasing me like this.”
Timur chuckles darkly, as he kisses me harder, moving his fingers faster now, curling with every thrust. “I can’t help it.
You feel too good when I get you naked. How else would I get your clothing off?
" His thumb presses firmer on my clit, rubbing faster, and I whimper into his mouth, back arching off the bed.
He doesn’t stop kissing me, not even when my breathing turns to desperate little pants. “Come on, baby,” he whispers between kisses, “let go for me."
The words push me right over the edge. Pleasure crashes through me and I start clenching around his fingers. My whole body trembles, thighs shaking while he keeps stroking me through it, gentling his touch but not stopping until the last wave fades.
I’m still panting, forehead pressed to his, when he finally slips his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean with a low, satisfied hum.
“Fuck, Kira,” he murmurs, kissing me again, softer this time, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “Taste so sweet. And we still have all night.”
I laugh breathlessly, legs tangled with his, heart racing. “You’re impossible..." But he's not. He's perfect, and so amazing.
What's impossible is how deeply I love him. And how much I never want to let him go.
Timur’s eyes darken at my words, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he rolls us, settling his body fully over mine. “Well, don’t fall asleep yet,” he mumbles, kissing me deep and slow. His dick is hard against my thigh, grinding on me as he pumps his hips. “Because I’m not done with you yet."
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he reaches between us, lining himself up. He pushes in smoothly, burying himself until I gasp. Then he starts thrusting in deep rolling strokes that make my toes curl.
“Fuck,” he groans against my lips. “You feel even better than I remembered. So tight..."
“Shit—” I gasp, digging my nails into his back as pleasure sparks through me again. I lift my hips to meet every thrust, and feel the delicious friction. His mouth never leaves mine for long—kissing me messily and desperately.
Then he grips my hip, angling me so he hits that spot inside that has me gasping and panting, pushing up into him.
“That’s it—fuck.” His pace quickens, hips snapping harder as his head arcs back. “God, you feel incredible.”
I whimper into his mouth, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist. The coil in my belly tightens as every deep thrust pushes me closer. “Oh, shit—oh, my God."
He drives into me harder as one hand slides between us to circle my clit with his thumb. The added pressure sends me reeling. Pleasure crashes over me again, taking my breath away as my walls clench rhythmically around him. "Tim... Yes..."
Timur groans, “Kira—fuck.” and his rhythm falters, thrusts turning erratic and deep as he chases his own release.
He's uncoordinated and out of control, dragging in deep heaving breaths as he comes, pulsing heat inside me. His body shudders against mine while he rides it out and he glides in and out of my body, now slick with his moisture.
We stay locked together, panting, sweaty, and trembling.
He presses soft, lazy kisses to my neck, my jaw, my lips, murmuring my name.
Slowly he eases out of me and rolls to the side, pulling me tight against his chest without a word.
His arm wraps around my waist as one leg slides between mine, holding me close like he’s afraid I might disappear.
I nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent, and my fingers splay on his chest as the exhaustion seeps into every pore of my body and saturates me to my core.
Sleep pulls me under slowly, his steady heartbeat the last thing I hear as I drift off, safe and loved in the circle of his arms.