32. Luna
Luna
Imight have to beat my husband with a stick if he even thinks about coming near me again within the next twenty-four hours.
Thank fuck I’m on birth control.
That man has a serious breeding kink, and at this rate, I don’t even think my birth control will stop him.
We spent the entire day in bed yesterday, and while my heart (and, let’s be real, my soul) is very happy, my pussy is in shambles.
I woke up sore, and walking feels like a goddamn chore.
Sitting? Don’t even get me started.
I should be mad about it, but every time I think about the way Vladimir had me moaning, begging, and borderline sobbing for him…
Yeah. Not mad at all.
Luckily, Amani and Raven are here to help out with Nova, who has been thriving in this household. She absolutely adores Vladimir.
He was sending me pictures of her while I was gone like a real dog dad. It was so cute.
Konstantin and Dimitri, though?
Not so much.
She growled at both of them when they tried to pet her, and I nearly choked on my drink from laughing so hard.
Two fully grown, over-six-foot-tall Bratva men getting side-eyed by a ten-year-old lab?
Absolutely priceless.
“I don’t get it,” Dimitri grumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Nova. “She lets Vova pet her, but not us? What the fuck?”
Amani shrugs, throwing an arm over the couch. “Maybe she just knows an asshole when she sees one.”
Konstantin chokes on his beer while Raven snorts loudly.
I smirk, scratching behind Nova’s ears as she rests her head in my lap.
“She’s a great judge of character, that’s all,” I tease, shooting Dimitri an innocent look. “Maybe if you weren’t so unbearable, she’d actually like you.”
Dimitri gasps dramatically. “I am an absolute delight!”
Konstantin lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “Dima, she’s literally a dog, and even she doesn’t like you. That should tell you something.”
Amani suddenly perks up, glancing between the three of them. “Okay, wait—I’ve been meaning to ask. Why does Konstantin call you Dima? And why is Vladimir called Vova? Like, where do these names even come from?”
Dimitri blinks, then grins. “Ah, finally. Someone asks the important questions.”
Konstantin snorts. “She’s poking the bear now.”
Dimitri ignores him and leans forward. “So, in Russian, we use diminutives—shortened or affectionate versions of names. It’s kind of a cultural thing. ‘Dima’ is a diminutive of Dimitri. Same with ‘Vova’ for Vladimir. And ‘Kostya’—”
“Wait, hold on,” Amani interrupts, grinning. “Kostya? That’s your nickname?”
Konstantin groans. “Don’t start.”
“Start what?” Raven teases. “It’s cute.”
“It’s not cute,” Konstantin grumbles.
“It’s adorable,” I chime in. “Kostya the cuddle bear.”
“I'm going to throw all of you out of this house,” Konstantin mutters.
Dimitri laughs so hard he nearly falls off the couch. “Anyway, the nicknames aren’t just cute—they’re also how you know who’s close to who. You don’t just go around calling some stranger ‘Vova’ or ‘Kostya.’”
Amani grins, clearly delighted by this new information. “So if I start calling Vladimir ‘Vovushka,’ he’ll what? Propose to me too?”
I throw a pillow at her. “I will challenge you to the ring, and you will lose. Again.”
Before Dimitri can respond, Vladimir walks into the theater room like a storm wrapped in calm—barefoot, in dark gray sweatpants that cling just right, and a fitted black t-shirt that hugs his chest and biceps like it was sewn onto him by the gods of thirst themselves.
My already-sore thighs clench out of habit.
God. Help. Me.
He runs a hand through his tousled hair like he doesn’t know what that does to me.
The second he steps inside, the room goes quiet. Too quiet. Eyes start turning toward me one by one, and that’s my cue something’s up.
I blink. “What?”
Amani grins like she’s waiting for her moment to explode. She elbows Raven and whispers, “She doesn’t even know, does she?”
Raven smirks, legs crossed, sipping her drink. “Oh, she’s about to find out.”
Konstantin leans back, casually draping his arm over the back of the couch like he owns it. “Luna, I’m just gonna say it—you're banned from leaving ever again.”
My brow arches, my hand already drifting toward the knife at my thigh. “Excuse me?”
Dimitri points at Vladimir with all the drama of someone airing the family’s dirty laundry. “Because while you were gone, this man right here? Absolutely insufferable. A whole walking thundercloud. Grouchy. Silent. Unshaven. Depressed. I have never seen this level of mopey suka in my life.”
I glance at Dimitri, then shift to look at Vladimir, who’s currently pouring himself a drink at the minibar like he doesn’t hear a word of this slander.
“Vlad?” I call, slowly.
He takes a sip without looking back. “Hmm?”
“Were you... mopey?”
A long beat of silence.
He shrugs. “I don’t mope.”
Dimitri barks out a laugh. “Bullshit. You were drinking vodka like water and listening to sad Russian ballads on loop.”
Amani gasps dramatically. “Wait—was it Oxxxymiron? Don’t tell me it was ‘Peremen’ level sad.”
Konstantin adds with an evil little smirk, “I caught him listening to Lady Antebellum one night. That ‘Need You Now’ shit.”
Raven’s eyes widen. “Country music? Are you okay?”
Vladimir glares at all of them with that slow, deadly glare that usually precedes violence. “I will kill every single one of you.”
I try to hide my laugh behind a cough. It doesn’t work. My chest is already shaking.
But the mental image—my stoic, terrifying Bratva husband brooding with sad Russian rap and American country while missing me?
It’s too much.
I reach out, grab his hand, and tug him down onto the couch beside me.
His response is instant—his arm wraps tightly around my waist like he’s been waiting all day for the chance to hold me. His body curves into mine, warmth and protection and everything I shouldn’t crave this much—but do.
“I missed you too, Dracula,” I murmur.
He grumbles something in Russian under his breath, but he kisses the top of my head all the same.
Amani lets out an exaggerated gag. “Ugh, disgusting. I can see the love in 4K and I want to bleach my eyes.”
Raven’s already reaching for the remote. “You two make me want to become a nun. Can we just start the movie?”
I smirk. “Fine, fine. But—before we press play.” I glance up at Vladimir. “Isabella gave the green light. EAO elite teams are clear to come to New York. We’re officially approved to sit down with the Bratva.”
The room stills.
Vladimir’s smirk returns, slow and sharp.
“Well,” he says, voice low, “things are about to get interesting.”
Dimitri groans. “Oh, great. Can’t we just have one quiet week?”
Konstantin shrugs. “No such thing as quiet when she’s around.” He nods toward me with a half-smile that almost passes for friendly.
“Damn right,” I say, popping some popcorn into my mouth as I kick my feet up. “Chaos is a lifestyle.”
Raven starts flipping through the streaming menu. “Okay, what are we watching? Something with murder, mayhem, and minimal romance, please. I’m emotionally dehydrated from all this domesticity.”
“Put on John Wick,” Dimitri suggests. “It’s basically a documentary.”
Konstantin mutters, “If that documentary featured a man who actually cared about his dog more than he cares about people…”
Nova curled up next to the fireplace, lets out a soft woof as if in agreement.
I nestle deeper into the couch, settling against Vladimir. His arm is draped over my shoulder, fingers lazily brushing against my bare skin, sending little electric shocks down my spine every time he moves.
I should be focused on Keanu Reeves head-shotting bad guys in high-definition.
Instead?
I’m laser-focused on the way Vladimir’s fingers keep teasing the curve of my collarbone, dipping just under the neckline of my tank top.
I glance up at him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you watching the movie or playing a game of ‘how many times can I pretend not to notice you’re trying to touch my boob’?”
He doesn’t even flinch. “Can’t it be both?”
I stifle a laugh, batting his hand away half-heartedly. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m married,” he murmurs, voice low and smug in my ear, “not dead.”
Amani, who absolutely heard that, chucks a pillow in our direction. “Some of us are single, you horny bastards. Keep it PG.”
“I make no promises,” I mutter under my breath as Vladimir leans in to press a kiss just below my jaw.
Raven throws a handful of popcorn at us. “Can y’all stop dry-humping and watch the damn movie?”
“Technically,” Dimitri says, ever the instigator, “they haven’t even gotten to the dry-humping stage yet. That was more like second base with extra foreplay.”
“Oh my God,” Amani sighs, sinking into the couch. “Why are we like this?”
“Because we’re not normal,” I answer brightly, reaching over to steal popcorn from Raven’s bowl. “We’re highly trained, emotionally stunted, lethal degenerates with trauma bonds and no concept of boundaries.”
“Speak for yourself,” Konstantin grumbles.
“You’re included, big guy,” I say sweetly.
He grunts in response, eyes still locked on the screen.
As the movie plays, the room falls into a comfortable quiet—popcorn crunching, occasional gasps during fight scenes, and Nova’s gentle snores mixing into the background.
I let myself relax for a moment. Just for a bit.
Curled against Vladimir’s side, his steady breathing grounding me like an anchor.
A family.
Fucked-up, dysfunctional, slightly insane—but a family all the same.
And for tonight?
That’s enough.