Inked Adonis (Litvinov Bratva Book 1)

Only when I see Samuil standing in the doorway do I realize how terrified I was that he wouldn’t come back. The gunshot still echoes in my head. His takedown of the shooter plays on repeat behind my eyelids like a horror movie clip.

I throw myself at him, burying my face in his chest. It takes me a moment to register that his arms aren’t wrapping around me.

Stepping back, I scan his face, then his body, searching for injuries—scrapes, bruises, bullet holes. My breath catches when I meet his eyes. I’ve never seen them this dark, this stormy. Like gathering thunderclouds about to break.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” The words tear from his throat.

I replay the last few minutes—the man with slicked-back hair, the metallic gleam of the gun, the sharp crack of the shot. Samuil’s the one who tackled an armed man, but he’s mad at me?

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You jumped in front of a fucking gun, Nova.” He stalks toward me, then away, his rage a physical force in the room. “You jumped in front of a goddamn gun for a goddamn dog!”

Rufus lets out a pathetic whimper and attempts to tunnel under my bed. He’s too big to fit, so his head vanishes while his back end flops sadly onto the floor.

“You just hurt his feelings,” I whisper, my voice small.

“You know what really hurts? A fucking gunshot.” His hand clamps around my arm as he yanks me against his chest. His teeth grind together like he’s trying to crush granite. “You are never to put yourself in front of a gun again.”

“Samuil,” I rasp, “you’re hurting me.”

He drops my wrist like it’s scorched him. The sight of angry red fingerprints blooming on my skin seems to crack through his rage.

He spins away, raking fingers through his hair. “Blyat’.”

This can’t just be about me. The man—whoever he was—wanted to hurt Rufus. Wanted to kill him. I won’t apologize for preventing that.

“Only a coward aims a gun at a helpless animal,” I say softly. “I don’t regret what I did.”

He whirls back to me, silver eyes blazing. “A gun isn’t a fucking toy, Nova!”

“I figured that out after the first dozen times one was pointed at me, Sam!”

He freezes, going preternaturally still. “What?”

I chew the inside of my cheek raw. “I told you already: my father was a cop. He had a temper and access to a gun. So, yeah, I’m familiar with what it feels like to be on the wrong side of one.”

Samuil’s eyes flare, but his mouth stays locked shut. Taking advantage of his silence, I give him another once-over.

“Are you hurt? I wasn’t sure…”

“You’re asking me if I’m hurt?”

“I already know I’m not. And Rufus is fine, too. I checked.” Under the bed, Rufus’s butt wiggles as he probably destroys one of my shoes, but after the afternoon we just had, he can demolish my entire closet for all I care. “Although I can’t speak for his mental health.”

Sam snatches my hand and drags me close, yanking my attention from the dog. “I want to know if you are okay, Nova.”

I’m not sure if it’s the surprise of being close to him or the soft way he whispers my name, but suddenly, tears well in my eyes.

And I was doing so well.

“Shit.” I try to turn away from him, but he catches me.

Instead of letting me hide, he palms my shoulders. “You know what terrifies me, Nova?”

I shake my head, still trying to turn away as tears slip free.

“The thought of you bleeding out in my arms because you decided to play hero.” His fingers dig into me. “Do you have any idea what that would do to me?”

“I wasn’t trying to⁠—”

“Look at me.”

I lift my wet face. “You ran in front of the gun, too, you know.”

“You think I give a fuck about my own safety compared to yours?” The muscle in his jaw jumps. “You think my life or my pain or anything in this goddamn city matters to me more than keeping you safe?”

“Sam—”

“Tell me why you did it.”

“Because I couldn’t watch someone else hurt something helpless!” The words burst out of me. “I couldn’t just stand there while—while⁠—”

“While what?”

“While someone bigger used their power to cause pain.” More tears spill. “I won’t ever just stand there again. I can’t.”

“Ah, moya malen’kaya.” All the rage drains from his voice. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his chest. “You protect everyone but yourself.”

He carries me to the armchair by the window, settling me in his lap. His hand presses firm and steady against my back.

“I-I’m really o-okay,” I splutter, hating how small my voice sounds. “This is… s-silly.”

“You’re in shock. That isn’t silly.” His thumb brushes away a tear. “And you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

But it is silly. I’ve been here before. Grew up here. Should be used to it by now.

When the tears finally dry and I think I can stand without shaking, I move to slide away. Sam holds me still. His hand traces slow circles on my back, growing wider until his fingers brush my waist, my hip with each pass. His thumb grazes the clasp of my bra, and a different kind of heat sparks between us.

“Who was that man?” My voice breaks the quiet of the dark room, where night has settled on the city, yellow light spilling from millions of windows into the sky.

Sam’s hand stiffens on my waist. “His name is Ilya. He’s my half-brother.”

“That was your brother?” I dig through my memory, trying to see past the gun to find any trace of Sam in the man who shares his blood.

“We’re not exactly on the best of terms,” he adds.

“The gun was kind of a tip-off. But… I don’t understand⁠—”

“There’s a lot you won’t understand about me and my family, Nova,” he cuts me off. “And there’s even more I can’t tell you.”

I want to know everything—every dark corner, every twisted secret. But I bite my tongue. I’ve seen what the internet says about Samuil Litvinov. Millions of people poke into his life, desperate for every sordid detail. I refuse to be one of the horde.

Instead, I sink deeper against his body, letting him know it’s okay if he can’t tell me everything. But also letting him know that if he wants to… he can.

He gets it. Every word I’m not saying.

“My father pitted us against each other from the start,” he says into my hair. “Ilya and I are his legacy more than his children, and he wants the best man to win. Doesn’t stop him from stacking the deck when it suits him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ilya has always been his favorite. But as the oldest son, I’m automatically his heir. Ilya, his mother, and even my father—they’ve always resented me for it.”

I can’t imagine anyone being disappointed in Samuil. Strong, steady, devastating Samuil.

His eyes catch mine, silver bright in the moonlight. I could drown in them.

“Where is your mother?”

The moment the question leaves my lips, those eyes dim. He turns away. “She’s gone.”

That’s all he offers, and I leave it there.

I have enough secrets of my own locked away in dark places. As much as today terrified me, there’s a ruined, broken part of me that recognizes the anger and violence. A part that’s comfortable with it.

I try another question, hoping to bring him back to me. “Why did your brother come here today?”

“He wanted me to know that he’s watching.”

His eyes shift to the window like he’s expecting to see someone looking back. A chill snakes down my spine.

“Watching you? Or…”

“I will not let anyone or anything hurt you.”

That’s answer enough. Samuil isn’t the only one with his eyes on me, though right now, his are the only ones I care about.

“You can’t promise me that, Sam,” I whisper. “No one can.”

I know firsthand how the best intentions twist into nightmares.

His jaw clenches, sharpening those cruel cheekbones. “I will protect you, Nova.”

He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed. Slow, careful, every step timed in sync with every breath. Like I might shatter if he’s not careful enough.

Is this what safety feels like? I don’t have much experience with the sensation, but I’m warm and steady. Even as Samuil snaps his fingers and leads Rufus from the room, leaving me alone, I know he’ll come back.

When he does, he locks the door behind him.

My heart slams against my ribs, but I stay still as Samuil stalks toward me. I watch, hypnotized, as his fingers peel away my clothes before he strips his own and tosses them to the end of the bed.

The mattress dips under his weight as he climbs up, one knee planted between my thighs. Moonlight catches on the scars that map his chest and arms.

Each one is a story I haven’t learned yet. A chapter of him I don’t know.

I trace them with my fingertips, wanting to memorize every line. My hands slide over his shoulders to his back, pulling him closer.

When he parts me, pushing deep, my fingers sink into the muscles of his torso. I draw in a sharp breath as he fills me completely in one devastating thrust.

“Nova…” he breathes my name against my neck.

This is the balance for the ugliness earlier. This is how the scales even out. And when Sam trails his lips over my throat, leaving soft, desperate kisses in their wake, I think the ugliness might just be worth it.

His hands lock my hips to the bed as he drives into me, slow and deep, dragging an orgasm from me in the space of a few breaths.

As heat spreads and I cling to his body against mine, I realize that I feel safe with Samuil.

Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe I’m delusional.

But it’s impossible to feel anything else while he’s inside me.

“Sam,” I gasp as he turns me onto my side and enters me from behind. His arms cage me against his chest, his skin burning into my back. “Please… please…”

I don’t even know what I’m begging for.

He’s already given me more than I dreamed of asking for.