Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)

I wake up feeling like I’ve gone ten rounds with the Loch Ness Monster.

And the monster fucking won.

“Blyat’,” I groan as I try to sit up. My ribs are extremely pissed off at me and they have no issues letting me know about it. It’s like every single one of those fuckers is trying to stab me in the lungs.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

Nova’s voice catches me off-guard. I turn too quickly and regret it immediately. My brain is liquid. It sloshes against the inside of my skull. But the headache isn’t so intense that I miss the upward curl of Nova’s lips, the telltale dimple in her cheek.

She’s enjoying my pain. At least a little.

Given what I put her through last night, I probably deserve it.

“I need a more compassionate nurse,” I mutter.

“What you need,” Nova retorts, rising from the worn leather armchair where she must have spent the night watching over me, “is a swift kick in the ass. Maybe several.”

She marches barefooted to my bedside, then takes a loose pillow and shoves it behind my spine to help me sit more upright. I’ve never seen someone wield a cushion aggressively before, but she’s found a way. If I wasn’t busy trying not to vomit, I’d be impressed.

“I nearly died last night,” I say as I rub the sleep out of my eyes. “Shouldn’t you be happier to see me?”

Her scowl remains unchanged. “We all saw more than enough of you last night.” She straightens up after arranging the pillow, one hand automatically moving to support her lower back—a new habit since her belly started showing. The sight sends another wave of guilt through me, sharper than any hangover.

“What do you mean by that?” The way she’s looking at me—part exasperation, part lingering fear—makes my stomach clench with something worse than nausea.

“Well, let’s see.” She purses her lips and taps a finger against them. “After Myles pulled you out of the lake, and he and Mr. Morris helped drag your immobile, blue-lipped carcass up to the castle⁠—”

“I remember all of this.”

She arches a brow. “Then you definitely remember when you dropped trou in front of Mrs. Morris and scandalized her for life.”

Actually… I don’t. At all. The gap in my memory sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with being naked under these quilts.

Speaking of which…

I lift the heavy tartan fabric, confirming my state of undress. “Fucking hell. I thought you were the one who undressed me.”

The idea of Nova taking care of me like that feels right. Safe.

The reality appears to be far more mortifying.

“Oh, no.” A ghost of amusement flickers across her tired face. “You did the honors all by yourself. Right in the foyer. Nearly gave poor Mrs. Morris a heart attack—though I notice her gaze lingered longer than strictly necessary.”

“Wonderful,” I mumble darkly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Nothing too major.” That dangerous sparkle returns to her eyes. “You let Myles help you up to bed and then you vowed, just before passing out, that you would let me make all decisions from this point. I’m the pakhan now.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

She only shrugs. “Your near-death experience must’ve made you more reasonable. I’d say it’s long overdue.”

“Sounds like you think it made me gullible, too.”

She turns away to hide a smile, though I still catch a glimpse of it. Then, schooling her face back into steely disdain, she pokes a finger into my ribs. “Let me check your bruising.”

I bite down a grunt of pain and snag her hand before she can shiv me with that fingernail again. “You’re heartless.”

“Actually, ‘heartless’ is risking your life when you have a child on the way,” Nova snaps. “‘Heartless’ is scaring me half to death by throwing yourself into a lake in the middle of a freaking thunderstorm. ‘Heartless’ is making your baby’s mother and your best friend wade into cold, dark waters to drag your ungrateful ass back to shore.”

I press her warm knuckles to my lips. “Did I not apologize for that last night?”

“Not anywhere close to my satisfaction.”

I turn her hand over and press another kiss into the center of her palm. “I guess I’ll have to think of a way to make it up to you.”

“It might take a long time.”

“I can be patient.”

She snorts. “That would be a first.”

“For you, I can be.”

There’s a beat of silence then. Not an angry silence, not a hateful silence. But just the tiniest pocket of space to let me know that not all is lost. That I didn’t abandon hope for a less-than-happy ending at the bottom of that godforsaken fucking loch.

That we might still make it after all.

“Good to know,” she says suddenly, pulling her hand from mine. The loss of contact aches more than my bruised ribs as she pushes herself to her feet, one hand automatically steadying her changed center of gravity.

“Where are you going?” I ask as she retreats.

I can’t help drinking in the sight of her. The pale pink slip she’s wearing catches the morning light, clinging to the new curves of her changing body. Her breasts are fuller now, her hips softer, her belly a gentle swell beneath the fabric—every change a reminder of what we’ve created together.

My body may be battered, but my hunger for her is working exactly as designed, and then some.

Nova pretends to be busy with a cart of medical supplies stationed against the far wall, her back to me. “I promised Mrs. Morris I’d help her with harvesting today,” she says as she rearranges bottles needlessly. “I figured I should throw the poor woman a bone after you nearly gave her a heart attack with the peep show of yours. Though she did mention at breakfast that you’ve been holding out on her all these months.”

I lunge for her when she passes closely by the bed, but I don’t even get halfway there before the pain forces me to lie back down. Every motion is sending lightning bolts of pain up and down my side and Nova into a fit of giggles.

“Nuh-uh. Stay in bed and rest,” she scolds, wagging a finger in my face. “That’s an order.”

“I’m the one who gives orders around here.”

“For the next few days at the very least, the only thing you’re doing is lying down in that bed. Understood?” Then, with a sparkle in her eye that says trouble is coming, she sashays over to the bureau and strips that slip of hers right off.

It lands in a pink puddle at her feet, not that I’m paying much attention to the garment. My eyes are fixed on her body, tracing every curve, every line, every inch of skin I want to taste and touch and press my lips into again and again.

I never thought I’d see something this beautiful again. Last night, with dark water surging everywhere, even the thought of warmth and softness felt too good to be true. Now, it’s there—just out of reach, but closer than I deserve.

She’s tempting me with it. Teasing me with it. And that’s fine—I deserve that, too.

But I’m going to fucking make it up to her. I’m going to take the punishment I’ve earned and then give her the apologies and the happy endings that she has earned.

Because Nova Pierce is my woman, goddammit. She is my family and my future and I’m never going to leave her alone again.

Not.

Fucking.

Once.

She twists just enough to look at me over her bare shoulder as she steps into a clean dress and shimmies it up over her hips.

“Someone doesn’t know how to give a lady her privacy,” she remarks lightly.

I hold out a hand. My dick is aching.

“Come over here,” I growl.

She just shakes her head and smiles that devil’s smile. “Can’t, I’m afraid. I told you—I’m going downstairs to help Mrs. Morris.”

I groan in agony. “Help me. I’ve got a raging hard-on and the world’s worst hangover. You’re not really going to leave me like this, are you?”

She finishes tying up the bow of the dress and walks over to me, leaning in seductively as her breath tickles my face. “After what you put me through last night,” she says in a low, raspy voice, “you deserve to suffer with both.”

I try to grab her, but she dances away from me, laughing wickedly.

“Nova…!” But she’s already blown me a kiss and disappeared through the door. “Goddammit.”

I could rub one out, but it wouldn’t do a damn thing.

So I haul my ass gingerly into the shower, cursing at the water pressure but reveling in the heat. It soothes all the tortured knots in my back, and by the time I’m heading downstairs for some coffee, I feel somewhat human again.

As I approach the kitchen, I can hear the insistent yapping of the puppies. Apparently, Nova left them in the kitchen to make sure I really feel my headache.

But before I can even cross the threshold, the lead of my private IT team walks through the arched passageway that leads to the library.

“Morning, boss!” Adam’s voice bounces off the vaulted ceiling with demonic enthusiasm.

I resist the urge to sink my fist into his open-mouthed smile. It’s not his fault that I chose to drown my control issues in an entire bottle of Macallan last night. Though his volume control could use some work.

“Adam,” I acknowledge, far less brightly.

“I’ve got good news for you.” His grin stretches wider, if possible.

Must be why he’s fucking shouting about it. Christ, did Nova brief everyone on optimal torture techniques?

“What is it?”

He hands me a crisp sheet of paper with the Litvinov crest pressed on top as letterhead. “See for yourself.”

I scan through the intel report, then read it again, my hangover momentarily forgotten. The words swim into focus: location coordinates, bank transactions, communication logs.

All pointing to one person.

I lift my eyes to Adam, keeping my voice carefully neutral despite the adrenaline suddenly coursing through my veins. “Is this information legit?”

“I’ve triple-checked everything.” He winks. “We finally have solid intel on Ms. Alekseeva. And here’s the kicker: that little social media scheme Ms. Nova and her friend put together? It created exactly the digital breadcrumb trail we needed. Your wife-to-be has better instincts for this than half our security team.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“Are you saying that it actually worked?” The words come out rough—part disbelief, part something dangerously close to admiration.

While I’ve been playing chess, Nova’s been changing the entire game.

The realization hits me like another wave of cold loch water: I’ve been so focused on protecting Nova that I never stopped to consider she might be capable of protecting herself—protecting us both—in ways I never imagined.

Maybe it’s time to rethink more than just my drinking habits.

He nods, barely containing his excitement. “I was able to track Katerina’s IP address from the email address she responded with. Amateur mistake—it wasn’t even encrypted.”

“Fuck me,” I murmur, scanning the intelligence report again. The coordinates mock me from the page. All this time, all these resources, all my careful planning… The best IT team in the world at my disposal, surveillance networks spanning continents, decades of Bratva connections…

And who’s responsible for tracking down Katerina?

A pint-sized dog walker and her busy-bodied best friend.

I dismiss Adam with a grateful nod, and he makes a beeline back to his office. Then I turn into the kitchen and hunt down some coffee.

As I pour myself a cup, watching the steam curl up like Scottish mist, I contemplate how to tell Nova that her scheme actually worked. That, while I was busy being an overprotective ass, she was quietly orchestrating Katerina’s downfall using nothing but Instagram and her understanding of human nature.

Letting her think she was right to take matters into her own hands seems like a dangerous precedent to set. The last thing I need is Nova thinking she can wade into Bratva business whenever she pleases.

Then again, I do have to make amends somehow. And maybe… maybe it’s time to admit that my way isn’t always the best way. That, sometimes, the biggest victories come from the most unexpected directions.

Admitting I was wrong is a start.

The day passes in a blur of business calls and strategy sessions. But as the sun arcs through the sky, my thoughts keep circling back again and again to Nova and that intelligence report. By evening, the castle has settled into its usual twilight rhythm: the clip of sheep hooves in the distance, the whisper of wind through stone archways, the soft glow of lamps against darkening horizons.

I find her in our bedroom, curled up in the window seat where she spends most evenings now. The door frames her like a Renaissance painting, all soft curves and tangerine light. A book lies forgotten in her lap, but her gaze is fixed on the misty hills beyond the glass, one hand absently stroking her swollen belly.

I’ve seen that look on her face before—the tight pull of her eyebrows, the press of her full lips, the slight furrow between her brows that appeared the day I dragged her to Scotland.

She’s overthinking. Worrying. Probably about me, about us, about the future we’re building in this moss-covered fortress so far from everything she’s ever known.

I don’t want that for her—that weight on her heart. That burden.

But I’m man enough to recognize that it’s my fault it’s there in the first place.

I clear my throat to let her know I’m here, watching as she blinks away from whatever vision held her captive. The sight of me doesn’t exactly light up her face—though there’s something softer in her eyes than there was this morning—so it’s safe to assume I’m still the cause of those worry lines.

“I didn’t see you today,” I say.

She closes her book. “I was out in the woods, trying to recreate your naked rain dance for posterity. The villagers have already added it to the list of local legends. The Mad Russian Man and His Midnight Swim.”

I scowl. “There was no rain dance.”

“How would you know? You were drunk.”

“Not that drunk.”

She snorts. “You were drunk enough that you decided to take a casual stroll in the torrential rain. Drunk enough that you thought it was a good idea to take my boat out while the sky opened fire. Drunk enough that you nearly drowned in that ice-cold lake. Need I go on?”

I purse my lips. “Are you going to bring this up forever?”

“As long as I draw breath.”

I join her by the window. She’s still in the blue dress from this morning. The neckline dips low to reveal generous acres of cleavage.

Just like that, I’m hard again.

You’d think after my midnight swim with death, she’d want to revel in how alive I am, let me worship her body until we both forget yesterday’s terror. Or maybe that’s just how I would like to celebrate continued survival—by drowning myself in her instead of scotch.

My woman clearly prefers holding grudges. Though the way she’s looking at me now, lips parted and eyes dark in the fading light, suggests she might be fighting the same battle I am.

“Nova…”

Her eyes flicker to mine, amber catching fire in the sunset. She’s holding her breath—I can see the tension in her shoulders, the slight tremor in her hands where they rest protectively over our child.

But as our eyes meet, her lower lip trembles with something more complicated than anger. I cross the room to her.

Unlike this morning, when I reach for her now, she doesn’t dance away. The castle’s shadows lengthen around us as I lift her out of the chair and pull her into my lap.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair.

She sniffles. “For what?”

“I was a beast yesterday. Myles didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Neither did you.” She bites down on her bottom lip, trying to maintain her severity even as she melts against me. She’s failing miserably. “It just drives me mad to think of you exposed to the Andropovs. Anything that puts you in danger makes me⁠—”

“Crazy? Reckless? Completely unreasonable?”

“Reasonably unreasonable,” I counter. “This is your life we’re talking about here, Nova. Yours. Our baby’s.” I spread my hand across her stomach, stroking the swell with my thumb. “Nothing matters more to me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

She sighs. “I know you were just being protective, but I don’t want to spend the rest of our lives worrying about how you’ll respond every time I’m in danger. I can’t live like that, Samuil. Our child can’t grow up like that.”

Then never be in danger.

It seems like an easy enough solution to me. I keep her locked away here, safe and sound in this castle, and we all live happily ever after.

“I’ll work on it,” I relent. “I can’t promise to change overnight, but I’ll do my best. For you. For us.”

Her fingers twist into the hair at the back of my neck. “I suppose that’s enough for now.”

My hands slide down her back until they reach her ass. I give her a good squeeze, pulling her flush against my erection. But she holds herself back from me.

She sits back, and in the gathering darkness, I can see tears gleaming in her eyes. “You really scared me last night, Samuil.” Her voice cracks on my name.

“I know.”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t. I—I saw you disappear underneath that water and… I couldn’t breathe. I thought my heart had actually stopped beating.”

“I know the feeling.” I place my hand over her chest. “Before you, I wasn’t even sure I had a heart. Now, you’re the reason it beats at all.”

She presses her forehead to mine. “I love you, Samuil.”

Emotion clogs my throat, making it impossible to say the words back. But she has to know how I feel about her. This fierce, stubborn woman who walked into my life with an unruly Great Dane and proceeded to turn my whole world upside down. There’s no other person in heaven or earth who could’ve coaxed an apology out of me, who could make me want to be better, softer, more worthy of the family we’re building.

“I have something for you, krasavitsa.”

She tilts her head to the side. “What is it?”

I hand her the intel report. “Information on Katerina. A lead on her location… all thanks to you.”

Her eyes widen as she scans the page. “You’re kidding. It actually worked?”

“It worked.”

She claps her hands against my chest, her body gyrating against mine as she celebrates. “I can’t believe it. I didn’t really think she would— This is great! I have to tell—” She breaks off, realizing suddenly that telling Hope would put her in danger again and bring us back to square one.

I breeze over the tense moment. There will be time for that later. “You’re quite something, Nova Pierce, you know that?”

“See?” She puffs out her chest. “You shouldn’t underestimate me.”

I press a kiss to the side of her neck. “Never again. I’ve learned my lesson.”