Page 14 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Anton

I stand at the back of the dining room, hands clasped behind my back, watching the morning light filter through silk curtains onto a scene that makes my blood feel like acid in my veins.

Mikhail's hand rests on Lena's bare shoulder.

His thumb traces lazy circles against her skin while she sits rigid as stone, fork halfway to her mouth.

She's wearing a cream-colored silk blouse that leaves her shoulders exposed. I’m certain it’s another of his choices. Another way to mark his territory.

I intercepted several packages this morning. They were filled with clothing.

Apparently, Mikhail was blessing his future wife with a whole new wardrobe.

I saw her expression as the parade of packages was brought in. Her own clothing was ripped from the closet and tossed into bags.

Every muscle in my body screams to move.

To cross the room in three strides and snap his wrist.

To put my hands around his throat and squeeze until those predatory green eyes go dark.

Instead, I count.

One circle. Two. Three.

Each touch burns through me like molten steel.

"The flowers for Saturday need to be changed," Mikhail says conversationally, never lifting his hand from her skin. "White roses are too pure. I want something with more passion."

His fingers drift lower, skimming the edge of her collarbone.

Four circles. Five.

Lena's knuckles are white where she grips her coffee cup. The only sign she's not the perfectly composed bride-to-be she appears to be.

"Red roses, perhaps?" Vadim suggests from the head of the table. He's watching this display with the detached interest of a man observing a chess match.

"Too obvious," Mikhail murmurs, his thumb still making those maddening circles. "Something darker. More fitting for royalty."

His hand slides down her arm now. I watch Lena's jaw clench almost imperceptibly. She takes a careful sip of coffee, buying herself time to compose her expression.

"Black dahlias," she says quietly. "They symbolize elegance and dignity."

And death.

Mikhail's hand stills. "Interesting choice. Though I was thinking more along the lines of?—"

"The dahlias will be perfect," Vadim interrupts, his tone final. "Lena has excellent taste."

A flash of irritation crosses Mikhail's face, but he removes his hand from her arm. Small victory, but I'll take it.

My earpiece crackles softly. I know it’s Dmitri. We secured the tiny earpieces that only the two of us wear. "Package delivery at the south gate. Three vehicles."

I say nothing, but now my attention is divided.

If it’s an attack, I have to get Lena to safety.

The rest of these fuckers can burn.

I almost hope it is. Anything to get her away from him.

“Wedding supplies,” Dmitri says. “Linens, crystal, enough champagne to float a yacht.”

I sigh with disappointment.

I wish one of the rival families would attack.

Kill them. Kill them all.

Mikhail leans forward, scooping fluffy eggs onto his fork. “I’ve decided we’ll live at the dacha after the wedding,” he announces, smiling like he’s offering her a generous gift. “The house you loved as a child. I’m having it restored as a surprise.”

Lena stills. Just slightly. Her hand freezes around the porcelain teacup.

Her mother, Elena, offers a too-bright smile. “The dacha? That’s… unexpected.”

Her voice is higher than usual. Clearly, she’s picking up on the nefarious move.

Mikhail shrugs. “It’s private. Secluded. Exactly what the future Mrs. Orlov needs. Somewhere quiet, where security can be controlled.”

Controlled.

It has shit to do with security.

That’s not what will be controlled.

I glance at Lena.

She’s smiling like a hostage told to wave at the news cameras. Her eyes flick to me. Just for a second. A flash of panic buried under that pretty smile.

She knows what it means.

So do I.

The house is isolated. No neighbors. No cell service. Barely accessible in winter. She won’t just be married. She’ll be caged.

I clear my throat. “I’ll need to inspect the property.”

Mikhail waves his fork. “Of course. Full security overhaul. Cameras. Motion sensors. Pressure pads if needed. Build a fortress.”

Elena’s gaze shifts to me. I can’t tell if she’s angry or happy. Lena has an excellent teacher when it comes to hiding her emotions.

“The house has been empty for nearly twenty years,” Elena says casually.

I’m certain she’s just dropped a breadcrumb.

I pick it up.

“I’ll need to identify weak points. Assess vulnerabilities and plan the new installations myself.”

Elena nods as if she’s agreeing. “I think that’s a good idea.”

I watch her watching me.

What the fuck is her game?

Lena keeps her face neutral, but her hands tremble slightly when she folds her napkin. She hasn’t touched her eggs.

And then I see the tiniest quirk of her lips.

I know that look.

She’s up to something.

“I don’t have anything on my calendar today,” Lena says. “We’ll go today. I want to move in right away.”

And that’s definitely bullshit. But she sees an escape.

“I’ll arrange transportation,” I say.

“My car is free,” Vadim said.

Mikhail shoots his father a dirty look, but when Vadim stares him down, he quickly wipes it away.

Mikhail just got beat at his own game.

“I’ll go with you,” Elena says.

Once again, she looks at me.

It's not the usual assessment women give me. The one that starts at my shoulders and works its way down to my crotch like they have x-ray vision. This is something else. Something that makes my skin crawl with recognition.

She's studying my face.

Not my body.

My face.

The way she tilts her head, the slight narrowing of her eyes makes it look like she's trying to solve a puzzle. Like she's seeing something familiar in features that shouldn't be familiar to anyone from this life.

My blood turns to ice water.

Elena would have been around thirty years ago.

She would have been young, maybe early twenties, but she would have been part of this world. Part of the inner circle. She would have known the players, the families, the tragedies.

She would have known my mother.

I force myself to remain still, to keep my expression neutral, but my mind is racing. There's no way.

I was five when I disappeared. I've changed completely.

I’m no longer that little boy that had no idea how evil the world was.

But the eyes. Fuck, the eyes are the same.

The same blue that stared back at me from my mother's face every morning. The same blue that she used to tell me were angel eyes.

She finishes her breakfast, and I walk her to her bedroom to change for the outing. I remind her not to leave until I return.

It takes a few minutes to secure one of Vadim’s SUVs that are outfitted with bulletproof glass.

When I go to collect Lena, Elena is there.

And Lena is smiling.

Well, she’s trying not to smile but failing miserably.

“Unfortunately, my mother has had something come up,” Lena says coolly. “She won’t be able to come along.”

And now I know why she’s smiling.

My eyes go to Elena whose expression gives away nothing.

“Let’s go,” I say, keeping my tone gruff. “It will rain soon.”

“I’ll expect you for tea,” Elena says before she breezes out of the room.

Lena and I walk downstairs and into the garage. I open the door for her and climb into the driver’s seat.

We say nothing as I pull down the long driveway, passing several guards. The gate opens and I speed away.

We still don’t talk. I’m almost certain the SUV is bugged.

It was way too easy to get out of the house with her.

“I—”

I stop her with a shake of my head.

Thankfully, she listens to me and doesn’t say anything else.

When we arrive at the old cottage I feel the shift in her demeanor. And then a soft gasp.

“I haven’t been here in so long,” she whispers.

I park the SUV and we both climb out.

As we approach the house, she lets out a long sigh.

“I didn’t know he was restoring the dacha,” she says.

I nod. “Apparently it’s your wedding gift.”

She doesn’t laugh. “It was the only place I ever felt safe.”

She doesn’t say the rest, but I hear it anyway. He’s poisoning her special place because he’s that big of an asshole.

Overgrown grass. Broken shutters. Vines strangling the fence. But beneath it—there’s beauty.

I scan the perimeter and have to say it’s not great. Security would be shit here.

Good. That’s what I’ll tell them.

She unlocks the door and pushes it open.

A powerful wave of dust hits us as soon as we open the door. Lena sneezes. The cutest little sound.

“Good?” I ask.

“Yes.”

We move into the house and walk through, room by room.

“I used to sit in that corner with my legs in the sun and pretend I was invisible,” Lena says with a soft smile.

“You still do that.”

She turns with a frown. “Do what?”

“Disappear. In plain sight.”

She doesn’t deny it. Just gives me a ghost of a smile.

We move room to room and then into the backyard. She shows me the tree out back where she carved her name.

There’s a bench that faces what would have been a nice garden. Now, it’s nothing more than weeds and shrubs that have taken over the space.

She sits on the bench and I follow suit.

She doesn’t speak for a while. Neither do I. But I can’t stop looking at her. Learning her.

“You should stop looking at me like that,” she says.

“Like what?”

“Like you’d burn the world down just to kiss me.”

I shift closer. My thigh brushes hers. She doesn’t move away.

“I would,” I say.

Her eyes drop to my mouth.

“I’d burn it all, just to be the one you look at when you’re scared. I want to be the only man that looks at you. The only one that knows the sounds you make when you’re climaxing.”

“We shouldn’t,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“We can’t.”

“But we will.”

She climbs into my lap, straddling me and hiking up her skirt.

“We don’t have much time,” I say.

She nods. “I know.”

“If we run, they’ll come for both of us.”

Another nod. “I know.”

My hands frame her face and force her to look at me. She’s looking at me like I'm her salvation and her damnation all at once.

And I am.

"Lena," I breathe against her lips.

She silences me with her mouth. The kiss is desperate. Hungry. Like she's trying to memorize the taste of me, the feel of me, before they drag us apart forever.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting, and I groan into her mouth. She tastes sweet. Something that's purely her.

I kiss her like I'm dying.

Like these stolen moments are the last oxygen I'll ever breathe. My tongue sweeps against hers, claiming, possessing, trying to brand myself into her memory so thoroughly that no matter what happens next, she'll never forget this.

Never forget us.

Her hips rock against me, grinding against my cock.

"I need you," she gasps against my mouth, her voice breaking on the words. "I need to feel you inside me. Just once more."

Once more. Like we both know this is goodbye.

My hands slide down her back, gripping her ass, pulling her closer until there's no space left between us. Until I can feel the heat of her through my jeans. I can feel her dampness. She's grinding against me like she can't get close enough.

"You're going to kill me," I growl, nipping at her bottom lip. "Do you know that? You're going to be the death of me, solnyshko ."

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. "Then let me be worth dying for."

She already is.

From the moment I first saw her, I was ready to lay down and die. This beautiful, broken princess who looks at me like I'm capable of saving her from the monsters when I'm the biggest monster of all.

I lift her slightly, my hands fumbling with the button of my jeans. She helps, her fingers quick and desperate as she frees me.

The first touch of her hand around me makes my vision blur.

"Careful," I rasp. "I won't last."

She doesn't care. Neither do I.

She pushes her panties to the side and sinks down onto me slowly. Her head falls back as she takes me in.

The sound she makes will haunt me for the rest of my life. However long that might be.

"Look at me," I command roughly. "I want to see your eyes."

She does. Those beautiful blue eyes lock on mine.

She takes me completely, her body stretching to accommodate me.

For a moment we're both perfectly still. Just breathing. Just feeling.

The connection between us is so intense it's almost painful.

The woman takes my breath away.

Then she starts to move.

Slow at first. Rolling her hips and rubbing her walls against my cock in a delicious way.

I struggle with the effort not to lose control immediately. Her hands brace against my shoulders, using me for leverage as she rides me.

"Fuck, Lena," I breathe, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.

I don't care.

I want to mark her.

Want some piece of me to remain even after they tear us apart.

She moves faster, chasing her release with desperate urgency. Her breath comes in short gasps against my neck, hot and sweet. I can feel her tightening around me, her body coiling like a spring.

"Anton," she whispers my name.

Before I die, I want to hear my real name on her lips.

I capture her mouth again, swallowing her moans as she comes apart above me.

Her walls clench around me, pulling me deeper. I follow her over the edge with a growl that comes from somewhere primal.

For a moment, we stay locked together, foreheads touching, sharing the same air. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw tenderly.

I need her to know me.

The real me.

I don’t want to die without her knowing who I am.