Page 146 of Inked in Devotion

“Hey, Theo left?”

She glanced up and nodded. She typed on her phone. “He was looking for you.”

“I was putting Sebastian to bed.”

“He’s hammered and lost at poker.”

I laughed. “Did the guys gang up on him?”

Her smile widened. “Rurik.”

“Somehow I think the guy is trouble.” That was when my eyes fell on a loose sheet of paper on the coffee table. They were images of crescent marks that reminded me of Sebastian’s birthmark. A few of them were black and white, but one of them was in full color of an orange flame on top of the crescent.

“What’s this?”

She twisted her mouth. “Sebastian’s birthmark triggered a memory.”

“A memory?”

“From the fire.”

I sat down beside her, and her sketchpad was full of the symbols or logos or whatever they were. “The fire where you lost your voice?”

She nodded and typed, “I’m hoping if I draw it over and over I will remember more…”

“Oh, Aralina…”

The door to the patio opened and shut. Aralina flipped her drawing pad closed and put it on top of the sheet on the coffee table. She probably didn’t mean for any of us to see it.

Kolya appeared. “Seva’s asleep?”

“Yes. Who’s winning?”

“Kirill.” A derisive smile curved his mouth. “But if you ask me, he’ll be losing the husband stake because Lucy is annoyed with him.” There was an amused yet carnal gleam in his eyes as he crossed the living room and stopped in front of me. “Unlike me, who knows when to quit while he’s ahead.”

He bent and swooped me up in his arms.

My heart catapulted into my throat at the sudden movement. “Kolya!”

“You don’t mind if I take my wife to bed, do you, Ara?”

I didn’t know what Aralina’s reply was, but I raised my arm and waved. “Night, Aralina.” Then to Kolya, I said, “Are you sure you’re not going to drop me? How much vodka did you drink?”

“Relax, Chloshka. I stopped drinking early.” I reveled in the warmth of his body and snuggled closer as he ascended the stairs.

“We are staying in one room. We’re not having sex in front of our son.” My voice sounded lame.

He chuckled. “I can be quiet.”

“Well, I can’t.”

And that was the truth.

He sighed. “It’s our wedding night.”

“Oh, is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”

Humor rumbled up his chest.