Page 35 of Bride of the Bratva King (Blood & Bride #1)
Chapter thirty-one
The Baptism
M ila
Viktor and Katya come home on Christmas Eve, eight weeks after they were born, weighing five pounds each and breathing like the strong, stubborn Morozovs they are.
The house feels different with them in it—fuller, warmer, like it was waiting all this time for their arrival to become a real home.
Irina has transformed the blue guest suite into the most beautiful nursery I've ever seen, with two cribs positioned so the twins can see each other, a comfortable rocking chair by the window, and enough baby supplies to outfit a royal nursery.
"Home," I whisper to Viktor as I settle into the rocking chair with him in my arms. "You're finally home, sweet boy."
Katya is sleeping in Alexei's arms across the room, and the sight of my husband holding our daughter with such tender reverence makes my heart skip beats. Eleven months since we met at that underground auction, and we're finally all together in the place where we belong.
"Orthodox baptism is traditionally performed forty days after birth," Father Sergei explains as we meet in the nursery to discuss the ceremony. "But given the circumstances, I think we can schedule it for this weekend if you'd like."
"This weekend?" I ask. "Isn't that rushing things?"
"The children are healthy and strong," Alexei points out. "And I want them officially welcomed into the faith and the family as soon as possible."
"What does the ceremony involve?"
"Immersion in holy water, anointing with chrism, prayers for their spiritual protection," Father Sergei explains. "It's beautiful and deeply meaningful."
"And completely safe for premature babies?"
"The water is warm, the ceremony is brief, and I've baptized many children who were born early. They typically find it soothing."
"Then let's do it," I decide. "Viktor and Katya have been through enough medical procedures. It's time for something joyful."
The next few days pass in a blur of preparation.
Word spreads through the Bratva community that the Morozov twins are finally home and will be baptized, and suddenly our house is filled with flowers, gifts, and representatives from every family who wants to honor the newest members of our organization.
"This is overwhelming," I tell Alexei as we survey the mountain of presents that have arrived.
"This is family," he corrects. "These people want to welcome Viktor and Katya into the community that will protect and support them for the rest of their lives."
"Some of these gifts are worth more than cars."
"Some of these families owe their prosperity to the Morozov name. They're showing respect."
"And some of them are probably hoping to curry favor with the next generation."
"Also true. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Viktor and Katya will grow up knowing they're valued and wanted by everyone around them."
The baptism takes place in the chapel on our estate, the same beautiful space where Alexei and I were married over a year ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then—so much danger, so much change, so much growth in our understanding of what family really means.
Viktor and Katya are dressed in matching white baptismal gowns that belonged to Alexei's family, handed down through generations of Morozov children. Seeing them in the traditional Russian clothing makes my chest tight with emotion.
"They look like little angels," Irina whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"They are little angels," I correct. "Our little angels."
The ceremony is beautiful and moving in ways I didn't expect.
Father Sergei performs each ritual with careful reverence, explaining the meaning behind every prayer and blessing.
When he immerses Viktor in the warm holy water, our son barely makes a sound, just looks around with curious eyes like he's trying to understand what's happening.
Katya is even calmer, seeming to enjoy the sensation of the water and the attention from all the adults surrounding her.
"Viktor Alekseyevich Morozov," Father Sergei announces, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
"Katya Alekseyevna Morozova," he continues with our daughter, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
Viktor Alekseyevich and Katya Alekseyevna. Their full Russian names, marking them as part of a tradition that goes back centuries. Part of something bigger than just our immediate family.
"It's official," Alexei murmurs in my ear as Father Sergei completes the final blessing. "They're Orthodox, they're Morozovs, and they're under the protection of God and family."
"Forever?"
"Forever."
The reception afterward is a joyful chaos of food, toasts, and everyone wanting to hold the babies. Viktor and Katya handle the attention like seasoned politicians, charming every visitor and sleeping peacefully despite the noise and activity.
"They're going to be heartbreakers when they're older," Katya Petrova observes, cradling Katya while her husband Dmitri makes silly faces at Viktor.
"They're going to be strong and smart and absolutely spoiled," I correct.
"All the best children are spoiled," Dmitri laughs. "It builds character."
"It builds entitlement."
"In our world, a little entitlement isn't necessarily a bad thing."
By evening, when the last guests have finally left and the house settles into quiet, I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. Eleven months of marriage, premature twins, multiple life-threatening situations, and now a baptism celebration—it's been wonderful, but overwhelming.
"Bath time for everyone," Alexei announces, taking Viktor from my arms. "Babies first, then parents."
"I can handle the babies—"
"We can handle the babies. Together."
The evening routine has become one of my favorite times of day. Bathing Viktor and Katya in the beautiful nursery bathroom, dressing them in soft pajamas, settling them into their cribs while Alexei reads Russian lullabies that his mother sang to him.
"Happy?" he asks as we watch our children drift off to sleep.
"Completely happy."
"No regrets about raising them in the Orthodox faith?"
"None. They should know where they come from, what traditions they're part of. Even if they choose something different when they're older."
"And if they choose to follow in their father's footsteps?"
"Then we make sure they're better at it than you are."
"Better how?"
"Smarter. More strategic. Less likely to get shot while protecting their family."
"I only got shot once."
"Once was enough."
"True."
We stand together in the doorway of the nursery, watching Viktor and Katya sleep in their matching cribs. Four months old, baptized, home, and absolutely perfect in every way that matters.
"Come here," Alexei says, taking my hand and leading me toward our bedroom.
"Where?"
"I want to show you how grateful I am for the family you've given me."
"Is that a proposition?"
"That's a promise."
Our bedroom feels like a sanctuary after the chaos of the day. Quiet, private, filled with the kind of intimacy that comes from sharing something profound and life-changing.
"Mila," Alexei says as he begins unbuttoning my dress with careful fingers, "you're incredible."
"Why?"
"Today, watching you with our children, seeing you welcome all those people into our home, witnessing you embrace traditions that weren't originally yours—you're incredible."
"I love our life together. Complicated and dangerous as it was."
"Was?"
"The dangerous part is over. Roman's in prison, Elena's dead, and we're building something legitimate."
"And you don't mind raising Russian Orthodox children?"
"I want to raise strong, confident children who know where they come from and what they're capable of. The Orthodox traditions are part of that heritage."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
When he makes love to me this time, it's the first time since the twins were born that we've had the energy and privacy for real intimacy. The first time my body has felt completely like mine again instead of just a recovery vessel.
"Are you sure?" he asks as his hands roam over my changed body. "Dr. Petrov cleared you, but—"
"I'm sure. I need this. I need you."
"Your body is different now."
"Is that a problem?"
"God, no. You're more beautiful than ever."
"Even with the surgical scar?"
"Especially with the surgical scar. It's proof of what you survived to bring our children into the world."
When he traces the faint line where the doctors opened me to save Viktor and Katya, it's with reverence that makes tears spring to my eyes.
"This is where they came from," he whispers against my skin. "This is where our future began."
"Do you really find it beautiful?"
"I find everything about you beautiful. But this... this is sacred."
"Sacred?"
"The mark of motherhood. The proof that you carried my children and brought them safely home."
When he enters me, it's with the kind of careful worship that makes me feel like something precious and powerful. Like the mother of his children, the woman who gave him everything he never knew he wanted.
"I love you," I gasp as he moves inside me with slow, reverent strokes. "I love you so much."
"I love you too. I love what you've given me, what we've built together, what our future holds."
"Even though everything about our life has been complicated?"
"Especially because everything about our life has been complicated. Easy things aren't worth having."
"And this is worth having?"
"This is worth everything."
The climax builds slowly, sweetly, like a promise of all the intimate moments we'll share now that we're finally home together as a family. When I come apart in his arms, it's with gratitude for everything we've survived and anticipation for everything still to come.
Afterward, we lie tangled together listening to the baby monitor that connects us to the nursery where Viktor and Katya sleep peacefully in their cribs.
"They're really ours," I say wonderingly.
"They're really ours."
"Orthodox, baptized, home safe, and absolutely perfect."
"And completely spoiled by everyone who meets them."
"Good. They deserve to be spoiled."
"They deserve everything good in the world."
"They're going to have everything good in the world."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
I drift off to sleep in my husband's arms, listening to the soft sounds of our children breathing through the monitor, feeling more content and complete than I ever thought possible.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new milestones, new reasons to worry and celebrate in equal measure. But tonight, we're a family blessed by tradition, protected by community, and bound together by love that survived everything the world could throw at us.
Tonight, that's everything.