Valentin groaned as though he couldn’t cope with my words. His hands lifted to grip the sides of his head. “I’m fucked up. The Mistress fucked me up. I’ll cause you pain even when I want to make love.” He paused, and with lost eyes he said, “And I look like this; I’m designed to scare everyone I meet. I was never meant to be loved.”

Closing in until we shared the same air, I reached down and took hold of his length, and I said, “And all that is fine, because I love you unconditionally, and I will not break. You can be who you need to be with me. You can dominate me, possess me, and own me. Because I want you and accept whatever that comes with. I want to love you and want you to love me back, so that we both are never again alone.”

“Zoya,” Valentin whispered painfully, but this time I heard a hint of acceptance in his tone. His length hardened at my touch.

Flesh to flesh, I moved my mouth below his ear and said, “I am going to make love to you now. I am going to take the lead and show you with my body just how I feel for you, in my heart.”

Valentin’s forehead fell onto my shoulder, and he admitted in a hushed voice, “I’m not only scarred on the outside, kotyonok; I’m scarred on the inside: my mind, my heart, and my soul.”

I fought back tears and the raw emotion of his confession. Turning my head until my lips met his long scar, I pressed them against the raised skin and said, “And I will find those scars as beautiful as I do these.”

A strangled moan fell from Valentin’s lips. As it did, I pushed him down on the bed, my hands on his chest.

Valentin lay back on the mattress. Wet and ready, needing to physically express my love, I straddled Valentin’s thighs and crushed my lips against his.

As soon as I tasted him in my mouth, I rolled my wet center along his length, slow and controlled, lovingly, not rushed. Valentin wrapped his arms around my waist. Following my lead, he lazily massaged his tongue against mine. I was breathless from the slow intensity of this moment. Needing more, needing to show him just how much he was wanted, I lifted my thighs and, with my hand, placed his hardness at my entrance.

I pushed down, the tip of his length breaching my channel. Pausing, I caged in Valentin’s head with my arms and licked along the seam of his lips with my tongue. Valentin tried to take control and pushed me down on his length, but I shook my head, and whispered, “Just feel. Let me go slow.”

A low growl built in his chest, but his hands loosened and with a painstaking yet delicious slowness I pushed down on his length, taking him into my body inch by inch.

Valentin threw his head back, his eyes closed and his mouth opened at the intensity of the feeling. “I love you,” I confessed quietly as I took him all in and he filled me so full.

I smoothed my hands down to his shoulders. Using his strength, I pushed up until only the tip of him was still inside me, before pushing back down on a long hungry groan.

I rose and fell, rose and fell, until a light sheen had built on our skin. Valentin’s eyes were leaden and filled with love as he allowed me to take control. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, and his warm minty breath released in short ragged pants.

As I felt my body beginning to tingle, both of our moans grew in volume and speed. I rolled my hips back and forth, my clit dragging against his hard muscles.

“Valentin,” I whispered so it was barely audible, “I’m close, baby. I’m so close.”

Valentin opened his mouth, but his voice hitched in his throat. I knew that was a sign he was close; with that his length seemed to expand within my channel, its girth pushing against something inside me that made me see stars.

I increased my speed, my arms locking behind Valentin’s thick neck. I moaned; he groaned. I built us higher and higher. Valentin’s fingers suddenly tightened on my legs, and stilling, his face showed his pleasure as he poured himself into my channel with a long loud cry. At his release, I lost control. Unable to hold back any longer, I felt myself slip over the edge, light and shivers accosting my body as a blazing heat engulfed me from within.

My heart beat in rhythm with his. I slumped against his chest, replete and happy. I was happy. With Valentin, I was completely happy and content. My whole life my soul had yearned for something I couldn’t comprehend, but it was this. It was sharing itself with my true Russian love.

My beautiful monster.

My heart.

Valentin’s arms never released from mine, nor mine his. Eventually, I pulled back my head, only for Valentin to crush his lips to mine in a quick searing kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he searched my eyes and said, “I love you, kotyonok. So much.”

Smiling wide, I peppered kisses all across his face and said, “I love you, too.”

Valentin sighed and rolled us back onto the bed. We stayed joined, until Valentin withdrew from inside me and pulled me to his chest. I sprawled across his torso. Keeping tight hold of me, he asked, “So you are mine? Now and forever, mine?”

My heart swelled and a peace rippled through me. “Yes,” I said without a hint of doubt, “I’m yours. I belong to you. You possess and own me. As I do you.”

Valentin squeezed me hard. When I looked up, he was smiling. I lost my breath at the sight. He wasn’t the monster he believed himself to be; he was simply my Valentin. A fellow thief of hearts.

I had closed my eyes, content with where I was, when Valentin suddenly asked, “What now, Zoya? What happens now that we are free? I never thought ahead this far, and now we’re here, I have no idea what happens next.”

My eyes opened and I moved to lean on Valentin’s chest. Meeting his eyes, I confessed, “I don’t know, baby, but whatever happens, we’ll do it together.”

He nodded, deep in thought, and I knew he was thinking of Inessa. Kissing his sternum, I laid my head back down against his chest. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt Valentin’s hand trace down my spine, and he whispered to himself, “No longer alone. I’ll never be alone ever again.”

My lips pulled into a small satisfied smile.

Then I drifted off to sleep.

In love.

Nightmare-free.

And heart claimed.

23

LUKA

Two weeks later …

Kirill stood up from the dining room table now that everyone had finished their meal. He walked from the room to my father’s office. My father, Zaal, and I got up from our seats to follow.

I glanced back to the table and saw Valentin watching us go. He never spoke during these dinners, but then neither did Zoya. They ate and answered questions when asked, but dinner with the Bratva seemed to put them both out of their depth. I remembered how that felt, to be new to this “normal” life. To no longer be locked away like a fucking animal or, in Zoya’s case, like a target. Shit, Zaal was still finding it difficult, but at least he had Talia. Zoya and Valentin both seemed lost, but then, the way they never let go of each other’s hands, they now had each other.

That was everything in this life.

Zaal was coming around to Valentin. Slowly, but he was trying. Zoya was trying with the family too, spending time with Talia when she could, allowing my sister to burrow into her life, like Talia did with everyone she met.

But Kisa? My heart squeezed when I thought of how she’d stepped up to bring Zoya into our lives. And I could see that Zoya adored her. But that was how my wife was.

Kirill’s face had lit up with interest when he had officially met Valentin. The massive man had walked into my parents’ house with his shaven head and scarred face, the inch-thick permanent red scar of the collar wrapping around his neck. I knew what the Pakhan was seeing—a monster of a Russian. Trained to kill, an expert in torture, and, through Zoya, tied to our family. Valentin was a Pakhan’s wet dream. The things he could do, and the way he was built and looked scary enough for our enemies to drop in submission at his feet.

My mama’s eyes had widened as Valentin walked into the room for the first time two weeks ago. He looked like something from a horror movie when compared to Zoya’s pretty face, his hand locked tightly in hers. But my mama had pulled herself together and hugged him to her chest. He had been welcomed straight into the fold.

Someone cleared his throat. When I looked up, my father was at the door. He waved his hand for me to come inside. I entered the office and took my place on the other side of the desk from Kirill, who poured us each a drink.