Page 71 of Inked Adonis

“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.

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