Page 95 of Stalk Me

I suck a mark into her skin just below her ear. “Mine,” I growl.

Words of surrender spill from her—urgent, frantic. The sounds only fuel my hunger, each plea and demand pushing me harder. I savor how she meets my every thrust, her body welcoming the onslaught.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, marks that will linger.

“Call me Daddy,” I command.

The words drip from her lips then, unlocking a primitive need. My pace quickens, driven by her need, my need to giveher everything she craves and more. “Always,malishka. Say it again.”

“Daddy,” she pants, her voice thick with pleasure.

My possessiveness knows no bounds, nor does my protection of her. Her body bows under mine. I crave her submission, and she gives it freely, matching my fervor. Her cries echo off the terrace walls, and I savor each one, knowing they’re meant only for me. Her release shatters her, and I follow, my name on her lips, our hearts pounding in unison.

We’re both breathless, sweat-dampened skin and tangled hair. I smooth her hair back, gazing into eyes that hold the universe. “You’re mine, Sofia. Now and forever.”

A beat of uncertainty passes through her, barely perceptible. “And you’re mine.” I stroke her cheek, etching her features into my memory. “Every predator has a territory they’re willing to defend. You’re mine, Nikolai Ivanov.” Her finger traces the scar on my brow, her touch claiming me with the fierceness that first lured me in.

My thumb brushes her damp cheek. “I belong to you, and you to me. Always.”

37

EPILOGUE

SOFIA

Iglide down the marble aisle of the Palazzo Vecchio, my blood-red dress trailing behind me like spilled wine against the ancient stone. My father’s arm is steady beneath my hand, but his pulse races. I can feel it through his sleeve. He knows, as I do, that this isn’t the marriage he originally planned for his lost daughter.

Candlelight flickers across the grand hall’s frescoed ceiling, casting dancing shadows that seem to move with my every step. Mario sits rigidly in the front row. His green-gold eyes, so like mine, reflect a mix of pride and resignation. His careful manipulations brought me here, but not as the pawn he’d hoped for.

My breath catches as I look up to see Nikolai. He stands like a king at the altar, his brothers Erik, Dmitri, and Alexi arrayed behind him in pristine black tuxedos. But it’s Nikolai’s burning gaze holds mine, those steel-gray eyes drinking in every detail of my dress, my face, my being. His intensity makes my skin tingle even from this distance.

When Antonio places my hand in Nikolai’s, electricity shoots through me. His fingers close around mine with that perfect balance of strength and tenderness I’ve known so well. Wechose Florence for this moment for its breathtaking beauty and as a statement to our families. Here, in the heart of Castellano territory, I’m choosing to bind myself to the head of the Ivanov empire—a Russian.

This union isn’t what they planned when they started moving us around like chess pieces. But standing here, feeling Nikolai’s thumb brush across my knuckles, I know we’ve transcended their games to create something entirely our own.

The priest’s words flow over us in English, his Italian accent lending a musical quality to the ancient vows. My hands tremble slightly in Nikolai’s steady grip as we face each other. The weight of our families’ presence fades away until it’s just us, lost in each other’s eyes.

“I, Nikolai Ivanov...” His voice carries through the hall, strong and clear. Each word falls like a promise etched in stone. His thumb brushes over my pulse point when he speaks of cherishing and protecting me, reminding me of how he’s already proven his dedication.

My turn comes, and despite my racing heart, my voice stays steady. “I, Sofia Henley...” I begin, watching his eyes darken at my choice to use my adopted name. It’s who I was when he fell in love with me and part of who I’ll always be.

The traditional words take on new meanings as I speak them. To love, honor, and cherish are all simple promises that carry the weight of everything we’ve overcome to stand here. When I reach “till death do us part,” Nikolai’s fingers tighten on mine, and I see the flash of possession in his eyes.

We exchange rings—his, a heavy platinum band that looks like it was made to rest on his strong hand; mine, an antique piece that belonged to his mother, reset with stones that catch the candlelight like captured stars.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest declares. “You may kiss the bride.”

Nikolai doesn’t hesitate. His hand cups the back of my neck, fingers threading through my carefully arranged hair as he claims my mouth. This isn’t a chaste church kiss—it’s a declaration. His lips move against mine with fierce possession, and I respond in kind, my fingers gripping his lapels. The kiss deepens, tasting of promise and power, until someone, probably Alexi, whistles wolfishly from behind us.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless and flushed. Nikolai’s eyes burn into mine, a silent vow passing between us that makes my heart race again.

I sink into the plush leather of the Rolls Royce, my dress rustling as Nikolai slides in beside me. His hand finds mine immediately, thumb brushing over my new ring.

“Already planning your escape,malishka?” He catches me glancing at the partition between us and the driver.

“Just wondering if you’ve soundproofed this one too.” I arch an eyebrow at him, remembering other drives.

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest. “Behave yourself. We have exactly eighteen minutes until the reception.”

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