"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Father Konstantin says. "You may kiss the bride."
I cup Alina's face in my hands, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. Her skin is soft, warm, and I can feel her trembling slightly. Not from fear, I think, but from the enormity of what we've just done.
I lean in and kiss her, and something ignites between us. It's not the desperate, claiming kiss from before. This is different. Deeper. A promise and a beginning all at once.
Her hands come up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer, and I deepen the kiss, tasting her, claiming her. My wife. Mine.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Someone clears their throat, and I remember we have an audience. The priest looks slightly scandalized, but he's seen worse at Bratva weddings.
"Now," I say, my voice dropping low and rough, "we consummate our vows."
Her eyes widen, and I see heat flare in their green depths. "Right now?"
"Right now." I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. "A wedding party can be held later. This is more important."
19
ALINA
My heart stutters in my chest as Dimitri's words sink in.Consummate our vows.
I thought I'd have time, a few hours, at least, to process what just happened, to wrap my mind around the fact that I'm married to this man. That I'm his wife. That the heavy gold ring on my finger binds me to him in ways I'm only beginning to understand.
But Dimitri doesn't give me time to think. He takes my hand, his grip warm and firm, and leads me from the study. The priest and witnesses file out quietly. Then it's just us, walking up the grand staircase together.
My legs feel shaky. Whether from fear or anticipation, I can't tell.
We pass the guest room where I stayed before, and my stomach tightens as I realize we're heading to his bedroom. The master suite. His private domain.
Dimitri opens the door and gestures for me to enter first. I step inside, and my breath catches.
The room is massive, all dark wood and masculine elegance. A king-sized bed dominates the space, covered in royal blue linens that look impossibly soft. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the gardens, and I can see the city lights twinkling in the distance. Everything is tasteful, expensive, and utterly intimidating.
The door closes behind us with a soft click, and suddenly, the room feels much smaller.
I turn to face Dimitri, my hands twisting together nervously. He's watching me with those intense green eyes, and I feel heat flood my cheeks. I've never been alone with a man like this, never been in a bedroom with a man who has every right to touch me, to claim me.
"Alina." His voice is low, rough. "Come here."
I take a hesitant step toward him, then another. When I'm close enough, he reaches out and cups my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. The gesture is surprisingly gentle for a man who killed half a dozen people just hours ago.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asks.
I consider lying, but what's the point? "A little."
"Good." His lips quirk in something that might be a smile. "Fear keeps you sharp. But you don't need to be afraid of this. Of us."
"How can you be so sure?" My voice comes out breathless. "We barely know each other."
"I know enough." His other hand comes up to frame my face, and he tilts my head back so I'm forced to meet his gaze. "I know you're brave. I know you're strong. I know you stood up to your father even when it terrified you. I know you pressed that panic button and trusted I would come for you."
His words make something warm unfurl in my chest. He sees me. Not just the frightened girl he pulled from the burning church, but the woman I'm becoming.
"I know something else too," he continues, his voice dropping even lower. "I know you want this. I saw it in your eyes when I kissed you before, the way your body responded to mine."
Heat floods through me at the memory. That kiss in the guest room, the one that left me breathless and aching. He's right. I did want it. I do want it.
But wanting and having are two different things.
