Page 59 of Inked Athena

And damn him straight to hell, because he’s right about that, too.

His hand slides up my thigh, pushing silk aside like it’s tissue paper. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, but his fingers are already moving higher and higher. “Tell me you don’t want this—don’t want me—and I’ll walk away.”

That’s the biggest lie he’s ever told me. We both know he’d sooner burn down all of Scotland than let me go.

Just like we both know I’d never let him.

“Fuck you, Samuil,” I moan as his fingers curl inside me, my nails leaving crescents in his shoulders that I hope scar.

His laugh rumbles against my throat, dark and satisfied. “That’s the plan,krasavitsa. That’s always been the plan.”

22

NOVA

He’s everywhere. My personal demon, marking his territory and chasing away the shadows that have haunted me these past three weeks. Every touch reignites nerve endings I thought had gone dormant in his absence. His hands trace my curves with excruciating tenderness.

Hours pass in a haze of pleasure. Outside our turret room’s soaring windows, the Scottish night unfolds like black velvet studded with pinwheeling stars.

Inside, we’re cocooned in the aftermath of what we’ve done to each other. My muscles are liquid, my skin sheened with sweat, and the only coherent thought in my head isfinally.

Finally, he’s back.

Finally, he’s mine again.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Sam murmurs against my hair.

I trace the scar on his chest, memorizing its shape, its texture. “I’m thinking about how much I hate missing you.”

“Then stop missing me.” His thumb draws lazy circles on my stomach. “I’m right here.”

“For how long, though?”

Instead of answering, he pulls me closer, tucking me into the hollow of his throat where I can breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Long enough to make up for lost time.” His voice vibrates against my lips. “Long enough to remind you why you fell for me in the first place.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve fallen for you at all.”

He chuckles. “Your body just spent the last hour proving otherwise,zaychik.”

I bite his collarbone in retaliation, but we both know he’s right. No matter how much I fight it, no matter how many times he leaves, I’ll always want him back.

That’s the problem with loving monsters: Once you let them in, they nest in your heart and refuse to leave.

His scar glints in the moonlight as I trace it once again, gathering courage like breadcrumbs. “Can I ask you a question?”

He pauses, then exhales. “You can ask.”

“What scares you more—Ilya finding us, or becoming a father?”

Sam’s hand stills on my belly. For a heartbeat, I think I’ve pushed too far, crossed one of his invisible lines. But then he shifts, propping himself on an elbow to study my face.

“Both keep me awake at night.” His jaw works, and I recognize his struggle to find words that aren’t wrapped in thorns. “Inever wanted children before. Never saw the point of bringing innocents into this life.”

“And now?”

“Now, I dream about our child. About protecting you both.” He splays his fingers wider across my stomach. “About being nothing like my father.”

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