Page 142 of Inked in Devotion

The scroll was ancient, but the ink appeared fresh because Margo spent the entire evening writing our contract.

It was simple. A few sentences:

When blood is freely given, their union shall be declared as a Winthrop Blood Covenant, owing allegiance to no house, no order, and no organization or clan.

All claims before this union—whether inherited, sworn as an oath, or an ancient contract—shall be dissolved once blood mixes with blood.

A covenant signed by choice is greater than any duty inherited by birth.

Those who challenge the Winthrop Blood Covenant shall be declared enemies of the order and will face retribution and sanctions.

This declaration supersedes and nullifies all others.

This blood covenant is final and written into law recognized by all our allies.

A man in a suit took over Margo’s position and started the ceremony that would join me and Kolya in a centuries-old rite.

He spoke in Latin.

This whole evening was surreal.

My gaze fell on Kolya. Stony determination was etched on his face. His eyes met mine. We held hands, a bandage wrapped around my left one. A gash on my right side pulsed with discomfort, reminding me where Marena’s bullet grazed me before I got off my three shots. I’d always trained to hit center mass. Larger targets. Useless when someone was wearing body armor, but the sound of my gun alerted everyone. Kolya burst into the room and went for the kill.

The head shot.

It eerily reminded me of Jeremiah’s shooting.

Déjà vu.

The English translation of the ceremony ensued.

Kolya and I didn’t prepare any vows, so we simply repeated the ones the minister said.

Surrounding us were Kirill, Dimitri, and Rurik.

The rest of the bratva were patrolling the building along with Marriage Ink security. Heads would roll later about how Marena got through security.

It was almost five a.m.

Everyone was antsy.

“Are you ready to sign the blood covenant?” the minister asked.

We both nodded.

Kolya went first. “I claim you, Chloe King, as my wife and our son, Sebastian, as mine. I give you and our children my oath of devotion and protection from this day forward. Until my last breath, my body, mind, and soul are yours.”

He picked up a knife engraved with intricate scrolls and symbols. He sliced his palm and let the blood drip into a wooden bowl.

I was already bleeding in several places, but I didn’t want our union tainted. I unwound the bandage from my left hand and then, picking up the same knife, I said, “I claim you, Nikolai Petrov, to be my husband and accept your protection, for the family we will have. I give you the same oath of devotion to you and our children. Until my last breath, I am completely yours.”

I carved my palm and trickled the blood into the same wooden bowl, mixing with his.

As Margo instructed, we held our hands over the parchment and let them also drip for a few seconds. Then we picked up the pen, dipped it in the bowl containing our mixed blood, and signed our names on the document.

With the etching of each letter, I could feel my bond with Kolya tightening, strengthening. Kolya finished first and laid the pen on the rest, his name so elegantly articulated in script. A name that was going to be mine.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Mr. Nikolai Petrov and Mrs. Chloe Petrova.”