Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
ARTEM
"I will never forgive you for this," Viktoria screamed as I carried her down the aisle of the same Russian Orthodox church where Kostya was married not too long ago.
"Yes, you will. Eventually," I said under my breath, praying it was true.
Eventually she would understand, and this would become a memory we laughed about on every anniversary. Or she wouldn't, and she would hold it over my head until we died of old age. Either way, she'd be alive…and by my side, in my bed.
She couldn't hate me or forgive me from the grave.
"Put me down," she seethed, her legs flailing. She had already kicked my stitches twice. For her, I would endure the pain.
If she reopened a wound, then she would just have to nurse her husband back to health.
The thought of her in a nurse's uniform flashed in my mind, but I pushed it away. If I didn't, I'd be more likely to bend her over a wooden bench and fuck her instead of marrying her.
"I need a priest," I yelled down the aisle. The wooden pews sat empty, which made sense this late in the afternoon.
"No, we don't," Viktoria screamed after me.
I swatted her ass playfully, but hard enough that it stung in warning.
" Moya ptashka , behave. You know I have absolutely no problems bending you over a pew and fucking you in front of God and everyone else."
She stopped moving, but her fist balled the back of my T-shirt.
Finally, the priest stepped out from a room hidden behind the altar.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"My name is Artem Ivanov."
The priest blinked then straightened his shoulders. I knew he would recognize the family name, and more importantly the power behind it. "We want to get married. Immediately."
"No, we don't," Viktoria grated out through clenched teeth.
"Ignore her. She has cold feet," I told the priest, lifting my other shoulder in a shrug, ignoring the slight tug from the stitches.
"I—" He hesitated for a moment.
"Now," I said.
"You'll need?—"
"The paperwork is being handled." I cut him off. I had already reached out to the family lawyer. This part wasn't for the law, this was for the families. Mine and ones like mine. None of us gave a shit what a piece of paper said.
That wasn't a marriage.
A marriage was before God.
Only a marriage performed by a priest would keep her safe.
"I understand," the priest said. "Would the young lady like to be standing or?—"
"Put me down. I am not doing this. I said no," Viktoria shouted as she beat her fists against my back. Twisting just a little, I had her pounding on the knot I hadn't been able to work out. She got it in three angry strikes.
My wife is the best.
"I think she's good where she is," I said.
The priest nodded and opened his Bible to the pages he needed. Just as he started the ritual, the doors flung open and people began filling the pews.
"Thank god. Help!" Viktoria called out, and I swung her around to see my cousins all in their finest suits, their wives elegantly dressed, shooting Viktoria sympathetic looks.
"They aren't going to help you, princess," I whispered. "Weddings like this have become a tradition in the family."
"No, you can't?—"
"Look at them. Kostya literally dragged Marina down this aisle not too long ago. That was one day. Now they are happy, and tomorrow you will be too."
"Artem, you said you would let me choose. Why did you lie to me?" Her voice was heavy with tears, and for a second it broke my heart.
I wanted to give her a choice. I wanted to lay the entire world at her feet and let her choose absolutely everything. And I would...after this.
There was nothing I wouldn't give her.
But her life was the one thing I wouldn't gamble with.
"Starting tomorrow, you will have a choice. I'll let you decide where we live, within reason, how you want to decorate the house, and how many children you want to fill it with."
She let out a shriek of rage, her pounding on my back growing harder.
The priest watched with wide eyes.
"I think everyone is here," I said as Kostya and Pavel sat in the front row. "Let's do the abridged version, shall we?"
To the priest's credit, he took a three-hour ceremony and completed it in less than five minutes.
"Will you, Artem, have Viktoria as your wife, to live together according to God's law in the holy estate of matrimony?" he asked, rushing to the end.
"Yes, I will," I answered firmly.
"Will you, Viktoria, have Artem as your husband, to live together according to God's law in the holy estate of matrimony?" the priest asked.
I set Viktoria on her feet but kept my arm locked like an iron band around her waist, pulling her flush against my side. She trembled against me, but whether from rage or something else, I couldn't tell.
I felt her breath catch as my fingers dug possessively into her hip.
"Never!" she yelled, trying to twist away.
My family chuckled in the pews.
I tightened my grip, my fingers leaving bruises she'd feel for days. A reminder of who she belonged to. "She will."
The priest hesitated, then moved to lift the crowns over our heads. Viktoria tried to duck away, but my hold kept her anchored to me—exactly where she would remain for the rest of our lives.
"What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. I now declare you to be husband and wife in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
I yanked her against me, one hand sliding up to fist in her hair, the other still locked around her waist.
I kissed her like I planned to do from now on. She fought me for a second but soon melted into my touch and kissed me back.
That was how I wanted the rest of our lives to be.
Passionate fights leading to intimate moments.
"You're mine now, wife ," I declared, in a dangerous growl that made her shiver against me. "And no one—not God, not death, not even you—will ever separate us.”
Her brow furrowed as she pushed her kiss-swollen lip out in a pout. "I hate you, you know that."
I winked, my thumb brushing across her lower lip, feeling the heat of her breath against my skin. "No, you don't. You love me, admit it."
Her chest heaved against mine. "Never."
Stubborn little brat.
I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers, my words dark with promise. "Looks like someone is asking for another punishment."
Her eyes darkened with a desire she couldn't hide from me. "You wouldn't dare…not on our wedding night."
I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her gaze to mine. "Especially on our wedding night. I'm going to make you scream until you can't remember your own name—only mine."
She swallowed hard, that delicious flush spreading across her cheeks.
"Until you admit what we both know," I continued, my lips brushing against her ear. "That you're mine. That you've always been mine. That you love me as much as I love you .”
Viktoria’s breath caught slightly at my words before she huffed and flattened her hands over my chest. "Fine. Maybe I do love you," she conceded, chin tilted in defiance. "But that doesn't mean I like you right now. And it definitely doesn't mean you're always right, husband .”
A smile tugged at my lips. There she was—my fighter.
“We’ll see about that, wife .”