Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)

Some people would say playing Scrabble with the elderly caretakers of a Scottish castle is a far cry from living it up in a luxurious suite in the center of London with your boyfriend and best friend.

Those people would be right.

“That’s a double word score, lass.” Mrs. Morris crunches the numbers on her yellow legal pad. “You’re in the lead now.”

“Am I?” I give her my best smile, but it doesn’t go well.

Smiles have been in short supply since we got back to the castle late last night.

They’ve been in even shorter supply since I woke up this morning and found my bed empty.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but our week in London was so magical that I guess I was hoping that it would continue once we were back home.

Or, in Scotland, anyway. Maybe this is home now. I’m not sure.

If Samuil ever comes out of the library, maybe I’ll ask.

“She was in the lead,” Mr. Morris crows, placing his tiles with a gnarled hand. “Until now.”

His wife leans over the board to read his answer, then immediately swats her husband on the shoulder. “John! You can’t talk like that in front of a lady.”

“I didn’t say a word.” He grins proudly at his placement, turning “head” into “fuckhead” on a triple word score.

I can’t help but grin back.

“You are a child,” Mrs. Morris scolds. “You’re just being naughty to make Nova smile.”

“And what of it? Worked, didn’t it?”

It did.

But not for long.

By the time I drag myself up to my tower post-game—and isn’t that just perfect? I’m literally Rapunzel, minus the useful hair—the temporary amusement has evaporated. What’s left is a bitter taste in my mouth and a gnawing emptiness in my chest.

Maybe London spoiled me, but days spent with sheep and the Morrises and curled in bed by myself with a book aren’t enough anymore. No matter how great the sex is, I don’t want to be Samuil’s bed-warmer. I don’t want to loiter around, waiting for him to have enough time for me.

I don’t want to be his crown jewel, locked away in a tower, or his clandestine baby mama, or his dirty little secret.

I want more.

And tonight, I’m going to demand it.

So I climb into bed, intent on avoiding sleep. The plan is to wait for Samuil to come join me, exhausted from a day of whatever the hell he does all day, so I can corner him and lay out my demands while I stand a chance of actually winning an argument for a change.

Things are going to change around here, dammit.

Except, the next time I blink, I’m staring groggily up at the ceiling.

I fell asleep. Masterful execution of your plan, Nova, croons a snide voice in my head. The sky outside my window is dark, so I’m unclear on what time it actually is or how long I fell asleep for. I’m fumbling for a clock or watch or phone when⁠—

“Ahh!”

A sound at the end of the bed sends me snapping upright, yelping as a tall shadow stalks across the room towards me.

“When I say I like to make you scream,” the shadow rumbles, “that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

I frown and rub my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Midnight.” His voice is whiskey-rough as he lifts a candelabra, its seven flames painting gold streaks across the darkness.

The light slashes across his face, shoving darkness below the cliff of his jaw and into the hollows of his cheeks.

My resolution crumbles like a sandcastle. Every cell in my body screams to drag him into these sheets and ruin us both.

Christ, one look and I’m already drunk on him.

I’m a lightweight.

But Samuil doesn’t look inclined to join me. He holds out a hand. “Come with me, krasavitsa.”

“Now?”

His smile gleams in the candlelight. He looks otherworldly. “Put on your coat and follow me.”

He doesn’t offer any more of an explanation. Why should he explain anything to me?

I’d follow him to the ends of the earth wearing nothing but a smile. But I’m so, so sick of doing it blindly.

“Why?”

“Because it’s cold outside.”

“No,” I grumble impatiently, “I mean, why should I follow you?”

“Because I’m asking nicely.” His voice drops an octave. “And because you’re too curious not to.”

I grit my teeth. Damn him.

I throw off the covers and storm over to my robe, snatching it off the hook like it personally offended me. “This better be worth interrupting my beauty sleep.”

Though who am I kidding? Sleep isn’t what I’d been planning for tonight anyway. But he doesn’t need to know that.

I make my way toward the heavy oak door connecting the bedroom to the castle halls, but Samuil lingers instead by the cramped entrance to the rooftop. He still says nothing. Just holds the candelabra high and waits for me.

With exaggerated annoyance masking my burning curiosity, I stomp up the narrow spiral staircase, making sure each step lets him know I’m displeased.

The moment I step out into the night, the wind slices through me. He was right: I should’ve brought my coat. But I pull my robe more tightly around me.

Then I look up, and all of my annoyance drains away.

The sky is perfectly clear. The moon hangs above us, full and bright. I’ve never seen so many stars. I literally did not know there were this many stars.

“Holy shit,” I breathe before I can stop myself. My words are visible as silver plumes in the air. “It’s gorgeous out here.”

Samuil places the candelabra on the stone ledge and gazes out over the vista like he owns it. Which, to be fair, he does. I join him reluctantly at his side, though I stay a few defiant inches away from him. The same inches that have felt like miles since we returned.

The world is so still. The waters of the loch are eerily calm, so it becomes like a mirror reflecting infinity above.

But it’s all so cold and remote and dark and distant that it lands a little too close to him. I’m all those things, too.

Especially cold.

“Why are we up here, Samuil?” I ask, teeth chattering. “It’s past midnight and it’s freezing.”

He doesn’t look down at me. “I wanted you to see the view.”

“I’ve seen the view. Many times. Usually by myself while you’re holed up in your office working late. Which is most nights.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m annoyed,” I correct, though that’s the understatement of the century. “And you should know better.”

He turns to face me and I panic. Because this—this is why I needed those few inches of space. He’s warm and huge and confident; I’m cold and small and vulnerable. One touch and I’ll dissolve into a puddle at his feet.

Which is precisely why I retreat, desperate to keep this fragile distance between us intact.

“Forgive me,” he says, his hand falling back to his side. “I’ve been preoccupied today.”

“Clearly.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind. I had a big decision to make. There was a lot to consider.”

My heart stumbles. “And what is it you’re considering?”

He’s not smiling, but his silver eyes twinkle. “Us.”

My heart drops. “‘Us?’ What do you mean, ‘us’?”

“My world is a dangerous one, Nova.”

‘Nova’? He never uses my actual name anymore. It’s always “zaychik” or “baby” or—when he’s really trying to get his way—krasavitsa. Hearing my name in that deep voice sends ice through my veins.

Even worse is the way his hands keep fidgeting—behind his back, at his sides, clenched into fists. Samuil Litvinov doesn’t fidget. He calculates. He conquers. He controls.

What the hell is happening?

“Ever since you entered my life,” he continues, “you’ve been in constant danger.”

I know that. We’ve talked about this.

But why is he bringing it up now?

My stomach is in knots. A second ago, I wanted to step away from him. Now, I want to grab him by the front of his shirt and shake the words out of him.

“Your life before you met me was simple and quiet. You separated yourself from your father and your brothers. You’d built a business and a life for yourself that you loved.”

My throat is dry, my heartbeat coming in erratic bursts that hurt my rib cage. I can barely breathe. “What are you trying to say, Samuil?”

“I’m trying to say that your life would be simpler without me in it.”

My hand falls to my stomach, like I’m trying to remind him of the life we created together. The life I already love. “I… I don’t understand.”

“We’re so different, Nova.”

This is the gentlest Samuil has ever spoken to me, but each word is a punch to the chest.

He’s breaking up with me.

I sat around most of the day, debating how I could get more from him, while he was locked away imagining less with me. He wants to leave, and I’m not going to have a say in it.

He wants to leave, and I’ll have to watch him go.

“You once asked me if I’d leave everything behind. Surrender the company and the Bratva to my brother and father and disappear. Well, that will never happen. The company and the Bratva, that’s who I am. I can’t give it up, Nova. Even if I tried, it would follow me. This life isn’t something I can quit.”

“I know that now,” I whisper. “And… I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Have you?” he questions. “Because I’m not quite sure you understand what you’ve signed up for.”

I stumble forward half a step, gripping the stone wall. I need something to keep me steady. My knees are wobbling. My entire world is crumbling around me.

“I understand everything,” I croak, my voice surprisingly sharp considering how shaky I feel. Funny how anger can make you stronger even when you’re falling apart. “So don’t use that as an excuse.”

One dark eyebrow rises. “‘Excuse’?”

“To break up with me.” The words are poison on my tongue. “If you want to leave, do it because it’s what you want. But don’t pretend it has anything to do with me.”

Samuil’s eyes snap wide, reflecting the white light of the moon.

Before I can stop him—before I can protect what’s left of my heart—his warm hand wraps around mine. I hate that I still lean into his touch. Hate that my body still recognizes him as home even as he’s tearing my world apart.

Then the asshole smiles. “I’m not breaking up with you, krasavitsa.”

I don’t let myself feel relieved. I stare at him, cautiously tracing his handsome face. He stares back, taking me in like I’m a miracle he just plucked out of the sky.

“Tell that to your speech. Because you just listed all of the reasons we shouldn’t be together.”

Samuil nods. “I did.”

“Why?”

His smile topples sideways. “To illustrate that, despite our differences, we fit together. Despite everything conspiring to tear us apart, we’re still here, Nova—you and me.”

A tiny ripple of relief washes through my chest. “Samuil, I…”

Then he drops to one knee in front of me, and I’m overcome in a wave of the stuff.

Oh.

Oh.

He looks up at me from bent knee and pulls something out of his pocket.

“Oh my God…”

Tears stream down my face like the traitors they are. I swipe at them frantically, not wanting to miss a second of this impossible moment.

“Nova Pierce⁠—”

I wave a hand at him, stopping him from opening the box. “Are you sure?”

“I’m supposed to be the one asking you a question.”

“But this is— I can’t believe this is happening. I want you to be sure.”

Sam runs his thumb over my hand, circling my ring finger once and again. He looks up at me. “I don’t make decisions I’m not sure about. It’s why I left you alone today. It’s why I locked the library door and sat there all day, wondering if this life is enough for you.”

“It is.”

“Questioning if I can make you happy.”

“You do,” I blubber.

“I sat in silence for hours, trying to decide if I was a good enough man to let you go if I thought it would be best for you. If I thought you’d be safest that way.”

The question lodges in my throat, but I force it out. “And? Are you?”

Samuil gives me a sad smile. “No. When it comes to you, Nova, I’ve always been a selfish, reckless bastard. Which is why—” He opens the small black box in his hand, revealing a glimmering diamond I can barely look at because I’m too busy staring into his eyes. “—I’m going to ask you to marry me, Nova. And I’m going to need you to say yes.”

I shiver, but I don’t even feel the cold anymore.

Not with the fire raging inside of me.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” I sob. “Of course I will.”

Laughing, Samuil rises to his feet and pulls me into his arms. He kisses me and I forget all about the cold. We could stay here forever. I never want to leave the circle of his arms.

And the ring between us now means I won’t ever have to.

My lips are wet and trembling when we finally pull apart. Samuil traces his fingers over my face. “Don’t you want to try on your ring?”

I nod and offer him my finger.

He slides it on, and I gasp as the huge rock weighs down my hand. “This is too much.”

Not that I’d ever let him take it back. It’s mine now.

“It’s no less than you deserve.” He holds my hand up to the moonlight, letting the diamond refract starfire across my skin. “Do you like it?”

A laugh bubbles up from deep in my chest, half disbelief and half pure joy. Everything I’ve been holding back—the fear, the loneliness, the desperate hope—comes pouring out in that sound.

“I love it. And I love you.”

“Remember that, krasavitsa. Remember that whenever I’m being a—what was it you called me—a ‘stubborn asshole’?”

“Sounds about right.”

He yanks me hard against his chest, one hand splayed possessively across my lower back. “And now, you’re stuck with me for life.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Litvinov?” I arch an eyebrow, going for sass even as my heart threatens to explode.

“No. A promise.” His voice drops to that dangerous register that makes my knees weak. “One I intend to keep.”

I press my lips to the column of his throat, tasting his pulse. “Then let me make a promise of my own.” I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “Your world is chaos and danger and darkness. But I promise to bring you peace whenever I can. To be the calm in your storm.”

He studies me for a long moment, this man who could break me in half but treats me like I’m made of glass. This man who’s done unspeakable things but touches me like a prayer.

Then he claims my mouth in a kiss that tastes like forever.

Without breaking away, he scoops me into his arms. I wrap myself around him, clinging tight as he carries me down the narrow stairs to our bedroom.

To our bed.

To our future.

Back in our bedroom, he lays me on our bed with reverence. The ring on my finger winks in the candlelight, each sparkle a reminder that this is real. This is happening.

Holy shit, I’m engaged.

Samuil hovers above me, his eyes molten with need. Then he bends in half to claim my mouth. His kiss starts gentle but quickly turns savage, matching the desperate rhythm of my heart.

“I love you,” I breathe into his lips. “So much.” The words feel like loose change when I want to give him gold bars, but they’re all I have.

Samuil’s growled answer sets me on fucking fire. “Then show me.”

And I do.

I show him with fingers that tangle in his hair and hold on for dear life. With a body that curves into his touch and whimpers for more. With his name falling from my lips again and again until pleasure chokes out my voice completely.

I’m trembling, skin glazed with sweat, as Samuil maps my neck with his lips. His hands conquer every curve, every inch of me, as he sheds layers one by one.

When my robe is lying in a heap at the floor beside us, his fingers toy with the band of my panties—the final barrier between us. He pauses, his breath scorching my ear.

“Is this okay?” The question rumbles through me like thunder.

I swallow hard. “Yes.” My voice is barely there. “Please.”

He grins against my throat before sliding the fabric down my legs with devastating patience. I kick them away, my pulse a war drum. Naked beneath him, I’ve never felt more exposed—or more wanted.

His gaze devours me whole. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Nova. You were made for me. Every piece of you belongs to every piece of me. And I’m just as much yours as you are mine.”

His hands cup my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples until I gasp and arch.

When his mouth replaces his fingers, I lose myself in sensation. He worships first one peak, then the other, until I’m writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

His hand blazes a trail down my body before finding my center. I cry out as he works me open, his fingers stretching and preparing me with expert precision. I’m dripping for him, aching to be filled.

“Samuil,” My voice breaks. “I need you. Now.”

He nods, eyes locked on mine as he positions himself. The first press of his hardened cock against me has me wrapping my legs around his waist, urging him closer.

He enters me slowly, stretching me perfectly. My nails score his back as I adjust to his size. He stills, forehead pressed to mine.

“Okay?” The word is strained.

I smile softly. “More than okay. You feel amazing.”

His answering smile melts into concentration as he begins to move. Slow at first, then building to a punishing rhythm that has me meeting him thrust for thrust. The world narrows to just us. Just this moment of perfect unity.

Joined.

Bound.

Perfect.

His clever fingers find my clit, and pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. I’m teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Samuil,” I gasp. “I’m going to come.”

He groans, his pace turning frantic. “Come for me, krasavitsa. Let me feel you fall the fuck apart.”

He fills me completely, perfectly, and I fracture into stardust. It’s different now than it’s ever been before. Deeper. More intense. Maybe it’s the ring on my finger. Maybe it’s because we’ve walked through fire together. Or maybe it’s just him: my anchor in the storm, my safe harbor in the chaos.

“Samuil!” I cry out, marking his shoulders with crescent moons of possession.

He growls my name into my neck as he follows me over the edge, the word vibrating through both our bodies like a shared heartbeat.

Time stutters and stills. We stay tangled together, breathing in sync, while the candles paint shadows on the walls.

Finally, he rolls us to our sides, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin.

“I want to give you everything, Nova,” he murmurs roughly. “Everything good in this world.”

“You already have.” I burrow closer. “You’ve given me peace. Hope. Family.”

He laughs, the sound reverberating through me. “I’ve given you headaches and heartburn and a lifetime of watching your back.”

“Worth it.” I kiss his heart. “Every second.”

He studies my face. “Are you sure? About all of this?”

I nod, emotion stealing my voice. I’ve never been more sure of anything.

His smile—his real smile, not the calculated one he shows the world—transforms him into something softer. More vulnerable.

More mine.

“Then let’s get married.” He clutches me harder. “Let’s build a life together. A real one. Nothing like what our parents had. I want that. I want you.”

He pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me like a shield. I close my eyes, breathing in his scent. It used to smell like smoke, like cedar, like sandalwood. Now, it smells like things only I can sense.

Safety. Protection. Love.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.