Page 65 of Sold to the Russian
She raised her gun again, her lips pulling into a sneer as she shot at the monster before her, one she no longer saw as a father.
She shot until she ran out of ammunition. And then a crippling silence fell over the clearing.
Maeve was numb for another two seconds before her eyes fell on the crumpled, bleeding mess of what her father used to be. She froze, the gun shaking in her hand, her breathing ragged as she tossed it away as if it had burned a hole in her palms.
She took a step back, staring at her father’s lifeless body laid in front of her, her own eyes wide in disbelief. Her whole body was shaking as she stumbled back, unable to fully process what had happened, what she had done.
She heard familiar voices behind her, cars pulling up, gunshots firing through the air all over again. Then she felt someone—no,him, Fedya, reaching for her from behind, taking her face into his bloodied hands as he forced her to look at him.
“Breathe, Maeve,” he said slowly. “Look at me and breathe. At this rate, you’re going to pass out.”
She blinked, and her gaze shifted to him. Fedya. He was alive, weak but alive still, holding her close, making sure she saw only him.
“I killed him,” she said, the words loosely falling off her lips. “I killed my father.”
“You saved our baby,” Fedya said, shaking his head. “Hey, look at me. You did what you had to do, do you understand me?”
She shook her head violently, feeling the urge to vomit. “I didn’t—I—I didn’t mean—” She was crying now, her hands shaking. “He was going to—”
“It’s okay,” he said, pulling her towards him just as her knees buckled. He held her against his chest, ignoring the pain in his ribs. “He was going to kill you. He already tried to kill me. You did the right thing, Maeve. You saved me, saved our child, saved yourself.”
Viktor burst onto the scene then, his men fanning out with guns raised. But the worst was already over. Cormac’s convoy lay in smoking wreckage behind them.
“Aleksander’s dead,” he announced, sparing a glance at Cormac’s dead body. There was pity in his eyes as he looked at Maeve. “The rest are either dead or captured.”
Fedya responded, but Maeve had completely zoned out, barely registering when he lifted her into his arms and whispered softly into her hair.
She heard him say she was safe, and yes, she believed she was. The part that had once loved her father, that had once been desperate for his love, that had craved his approval like a starving child, began to break into pieces as she watched over Fedya’s shoulder, as Cormac O’Rourke’s corpse was zipped into a body bag.
And the initial grief she’d felt after she realized that she was his killer was replaced by a bitterness that clung to her lungs like smoke.
Her own father had tried to kill her, her child, the man she loved.
Whatever part of her that had loved him died with him now.
Epilogue - Fedya
Three months later
Maeve stirred in their bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, her bare skin kissed by the morning light. Her belly was just beginning to show now, a soft curve beneath her silk slip. She shifted to stretch but stilled when she felt the heat of Fedya’s hand already resting on her thigh.
He’d been watching her. Fedya lay propped up on one elbow, his eyes heavy with something darker than just desire, something worshipful, feral. He’d woken up hard, needing her.
The sight of her soft, flushed, and already damp between her thighs only sharpened it. “You’re up early,” she murmured sleepily.
“I never slept,” he said, voice thick and low. “You were moaning in your sleep again.” Her cheeks flushed. “I was not.”
“You whispered my name like you couldn’t get enough of me.” His hand skimmed upward, sliding under her slip until his palm cupped the heat between her thighs. “Let me give you what you want.”
She gasped when he rubbed two slow circles against her clit, slick and swollen, already aching. “God, you’re wet,” he groaned. “Did my girl wake up needy?” Maeve whimpered when he dragged his fingers down, teasing her folds apart. “Fedya…”
“Shh.” He rolled closer, lips brushing her ear. “You know I can’t sleep when I know you’re aching like this.” He sank two fingers inside her, slow and deliberate. Her body welcomed him instantly, tightening around the intrusion.
Her hips rolled forward, chasing more. His thumb found her clit and pressed just enough to make her cry out. “You’re so responsive,” he rasped, dragging his lips down her neck, licking the hollow of her throat. “So greedy. I love it.”
She arched into him, legs falling wider. The silk slip slid up her body, baring her breasts, which had become heavier, more sensitive since the pregnancy. Fedya’s mouth found one, sucking gently, then harder, tugging at her nipple until she gasped.
“Don’t tease me,” she whispered, hips jerking. “I’m not teasing, zhena. I’m preparing you.” He moved down her body, dragging his tongue along her stomach, pausing to kiss the swell of her bump. “You’re mine. All of you.”
