Page 141 of Inked Athena

I glance around one last time, taking in this magical moment. Bratva soldiers are teaching our Scottish neighbors traditional Russian dances. Ruby and Rufus lie sprawled at Mr. Morris’s feet, worn out from their goat-herding adventures. This unlikely family we’ve built, against all odds.

“Lead the way, Mr. Litvinov.”

The moonlight turns Samuil’s shoulders to marble as he leads me up the winding stone steps of our highest tower. My wedding dress whispers against the worn flagstones, each step taking us further from the party below.

“Almost there.” His voice is rough velvet in the dark.

The door opens to a nest of silk pillows and furs beneath an open patch of stars. White roses perfume the air, their scattered petals glowing silver in the starlight.

“When did you?—”

His mouth captures mine, stealing my question. His hands find the buttons of my dress with practiced ease, and before I know it, I’m drowning in sensation—the scratch of his stubble against my throat, the burn of his palms on my bare skin, the sweet bite of night air on my exposed flesh.

“My queen deserves a proper crown.” He pulls back just enough to drink me in. The hunger in his gray eyes makes me shiver. “Made of starlight and diamonds.”

I reach for his tie, needing to feel his skin against mine. “Less poetry, more action.”

His laugh is wicked and warm. “As my wife commands.”

We come together like waves crashing on rocks—inevitable, unstoppable. His hands map my curves like he’s discovering them for the first time, drawing gasps and sighs that float up to mingle with the stars.

When he finally slides home, I arch beneath him, caught between the softness of fur and the hard planes of his body. The position opens me deeper, makes everything more intense.

“Look at me,” he growls, and I do.

The universe wheels above us, but all I can see is him—my dark angel, my fierce protector, my inked Adonis.

Mine.

Forever.