Page 131 of The Lazarov Bratva

“I–I’m sorry,” I gasp.

Kristof shakes his head just once.

“Andrev killed him,” I reassure him while panting. “He killed the man who…”

Kristof nods, then he resumes his fucking with an increased fervor that makes me scream. I can’t help it. Every sensation in my body is overwhelming and building up so rapidly that I can’t even work through my thoughts to focus on anything. His grip is tight. He controls and consumes me while fucking me like it’s our last act on earth. The shelves creak, and a few books clatter to the floor as they’re shaken loose.

Then Kristof’s teeth seal over my scratches, and he bites down hard enough that a pained scream tears from my throat. A different kind of heat rushes to my throat, and an aching pain flares near my shoulder. I understand it completely.

He’s replacing the mark with one of his own.

Because I belong to him.

“Fuck,” I sob as a fresh wave of tears spills past my lashes, this time a mixture of pain and relief.

“Mine,” Kristof growls so deeply that he sounds feral.

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

“Yours,” comes my reply.

He pounds into me, and I lose track of everything. Time and place don’t exist. My pulse races so fast it’s just a blur, and nothing exists but the press of his mouth and the pounding stimulation of his gorgeous cock.

My climax hits with the force of a freight train. I arch upward with a noiseless cry, and every muscle, from my hands to my calves, locks up as my toes curl and my core spasms around Kristof’s cock.

The most delicious sensation sweeps through me, followed by tingles like rolling over hot sand. Wave after wave explodes through me, and my head tips back against priceless books as I come harder than I think I’ve ever done in my life.

Kristof follows me a second later, and he grunts deeply as he thrusts hard to pack his cum as deep as possible.

We’re okay. We’re together. That’s all that matters.

Kristof’s head falls to my shoulder and he pants heavily. I slowly wrap my arms around his head and cradle him close while the last pleasurable tingles sparkle in my fingers and toes. Then gravity rises to meet us, and we slump down onto the thick Persian rug by the roaring fire.

I can almost pretend that this was a normal, romantic session between the two of us.

If Kristof weren’t covered in dried blood, then maybe it could be.

Silence lands between us as we cuddle, broken only by the snap of wood from the fire and the fizz of embers that land just shy of the rug. Kristof bundles me in his arms, tightly wrapping me up against his chest and pressing continuous kisses to the top of my head.

Slowly, I stroke along his forearm, lightly mapping over a bruise that blooms there.

The silence drags.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I finally say, breaking the lull. Tilting my head in the crook of his shoulder, I stare up at him until he tilts his head down to meet my gaze. “I don’t know what I would do if I never saw you again.”

“I was… almost certain you were dead,” Kristof said hoarsely, and his eyes were heavy with a sadness I can’t decipher. “Burning down Russia felt like the only thing I had left.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m so fucking glad.” A shudder moves through me, and Kristof tightens his grip.

We came so close to losing each other. Given how we started out, I never would have anticipated such a deep, desperate need to be around him beyond my initial crush.

Now, I carry his baby, but the very thought of uttering those words makes me sick. How can I reveal it? How can I bring a baby into this world when my father hunts us and we stand on the brink of war?

Kristof can’t be distracted. Otherwise, he really won’t come back to me.

I have to keep it to myself, just for now. I don’t want to make things worse, and I certainly don’t want to be the reason Kristof isn’t one hundred percent. Not if this isn’t over.

That and part of me still fears that it won’t be news he’ll want to hear, and having spent a few hours thinking he wasn’t coming back, I know for a fact that I don’t want to live a life without him in it.

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