Page 73 of Blood, Bones, and the Bratva Bogeyman

“Do you know what this does to me?” I murmur against her skin.

She blinks up at me, her pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Seeing you like this. Knowing that our child is growing inside you. All I can think about is how I put them inside you. How you’re growing them with every breath. My seed. My blood. Our blood. My legacy locked behind your ribs where no one else can touch it.”

She shivers, the bond tightening in a low, sweet way.

“You like when I talk to you like this,” I growl, my teeth grazing her skin. “When I tell you how much I want the world to choke on the sight of you carrying what’s mine.”

I drop to my knees at the edge of the bed and press my lips to the gentle swell of her stomach. “I want to fucking worship this body,Lisichka. I want to fuck you slow and deep until you forget there’s a war outside these walls. I want to watch you cream all over my cock like the good little slut you are for me.”

Her breath catches. “Kon . . .”

“I want to watch you grow,” I whisper against her navel. “Watch you swell with our child. And when they’re born, I want the first thing they feel to be this—” I press my hand to her stomach, letting my bond hum and wrap her in the firestorm of what I feel. “Love. Obsession. Protection. All of it.” Tears gather in her eyes, and I catch one with my thumb. “You’re not alone. Not ever. You’re mine,Lisichka. My wife. My bonded. And now, you’re the mother of my child.”

She nods, her lips trembling. “I know. I just . . . I needed to feel it tonight.”

“Then feel it,” I tell her, dragging her down the bed and settling between her thighs.

I kiss her like I’m claiming ground.

Make love to her like I’m making a vow.

And when we finally collapse together, tangled in sheets and soft sighs, our bond hums so loud, it feels like a storm contained within two hearts.

We lie in the afterglow, my hand resting on her stomach, hers running through my short hair.

For a moment, we pretend.

We pretend we’re not being hunted by a ghost.

Pretend our enemies aren’t sharpening their knives for their next attack.

I lift my head and her gaze meets mine.

The storm is coming again, but tonight, just for now, we hold each other like we can stop it.

For tonight, love is enough to keep the darkness at bay for one more day.

thirty

Konstantin

Themansionhasbecomea war machine dressed in chandeliers. Steel gates are layered twice over, cameras are tucked into shadows, and motion sensors hide in gargoyle mouths. I’ve ensured every corridor is mapped by my men until they know the layout better than their own home. It’s been three days with barely two hours of sleep, but the bond keeps me upright with her pulse steady against mine, proof that she’s alive.

As long as I feel that, I don’t break.

I fucking can’t.

Because the Reaper circles while my little fox carries my child. That makes this war something different now.

Misha finds me in the front hall while I bark orders at more of my men. He eyes the chaos with something between amusement and worry.

“You have turned the house into a military base,” he states.

“Good.”

“She will hate it.”