Page 113 of Heritage of Fire

“I’m going to get in the shower to warm up.”

I nod. “Yeah, yeah we—you should do that.”

She licks her lips and lets them fall into a pout. Her hands move to the button on her jeans and rest there. “Nik?”

“Yeah?” I say, breathy and eager, and damn is this maddening.

She curls her finger, beckoning me to her. I don’t hesitate. I stalk to her. Gently gripping the side of her face, I lower my forehead to hers.

Oh, yes, I do. Ireallydo.

Luna and I tumble in the bathroom, and she strips me down while the shower warms.

The water grows hot, and steam drifts and whirls around us, but it doesn’t compare to the heat of my need for her. “I’m sorry,” I whisper across the shell of her ear after we get in.

Water cascades over us. I brush her hair over her shoulder, exposing it, and lower my mouth to her skin.

“I’m sorry,” I say, again, and I’m rewarded when I coax a small moan from her lips. I move to her neck, and she tilts back, welcoming me. “I’m sorry.”

I watch a single tear drip down her cheek, quickly meeting the shower spray and washing away. My fingertips glide up her arms and keep rising until I’m cradling her face and drawing it to mine. “I love you, Luna Balakin. I’m sorry.”

She shivers while tracing my tattoo, starting at my shoulder and following the swoops and swirls of ink to my chest. Then she carefully takes both my hands from her face. “I love you, too,” she sighs out.

With our wet bodies pressed together, she rests her head on my chest. As she relaxes in my arms, I vow to never let a day go by where she doesn’t know how much I love her—how much I need her.

She pulls away and peers up at me, her eyes heavy—and laden with desire. Reaching between us, she says, “And just how sorry are you, Nikolai?”

I lower my mouth to hers and show her. All night long.

Chapter 42

Luna

Ifumble with the card in my pocket, turning it over and over again between my fingers, remembering the news Nik told me a week ago. The NYC chapter of Echelon Vanguard has officially been shut down. And thanks to the tips from the Bratva and the Cosa Nostra, law enforcement, in tandem with the FBI, were able to help twenty-five girls who had been held at the EV club against their will.

Nik has been home earlier from work this week, and we’ve enjoyed trying new recipes together. Tonight, I’m making a Mexican dish while he gets his workout in and speaks with some of the men in the warehouse. Several large shipments are moving out tomorrow, and he wants everything to go smoothly.

Leaning against the counter, I twirl the new ring resting on my finger and smile. Well, maybe it’s more like a grin, because my marriage no longer feels tarnished by my family. No. My union is now wholly independent of them, and I would choose Nik over and over and over.

I check on my rice and text Kate a photo of my cooking skills. She and I have been able to connect more lately, and I’m grateful for her steady friendship.

Shots sound from outside, and I rush to the door—thoughts that Nik might be in trouble clouding my judgement. Throwing it open, I pause at the top of the steps, waiting for anything more, but it’s silent. Jumping down the steps, I rush out the front door to find four security guards with their weapons raised at my father. Warning shots.

He’s sitting in his personal Audi, both hands on the steering wheel.

“Hey, stop! Put the guns down!” I yell.

All four guards look at each other, but they don’t move. Each of them keeps their weapon trained on the vehicle.

“When my wife tells you to lower your weapons, youdo it.” Nik’s voice echoes off the metal siding of the warehouse, and I turn to see him stepping out of the door. Hands at his sides, he winks at me, and I shake my head.

All the guards lower their guns and nod at me in apology.

The car door opens and my father steps out. There are dark circles under his eyes and the wrinkles on his face seem deeper, pain etched into each one. I almost feel sorry for him.

I’ve thought a great deal about my parents since my capture. The anger I felt toward them for wanting to leave me has turned into disappointment, and then hurt. I will always love them. But the way they groomed me for this life—and their willingness to let me die—I’m not sure I’m a good enough person to let that go.

“Luna …” My father’s voice cracks as he waltzes over to me.

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