Midnight Oath (Tasarov Bratva 1)

ADRIK

Even if we weren’t alone in the villa, I’d recognize the sound of Emery’s light footsteps.

I hold up my glass as she steps down into the living room. “Whiskey?”

“No, thank you,” she says, settling into the deep, L-shaped sofa. “I don’t drink.”

“That’s right. You said that the night we met.”

I gaze at her. She’s in a pair of silk pajama shorts with a matching tank top. The straps are thin and delicate lace skirts across the tops of her thighs and her breasts.

“Fuck me,” I mutter.

She frowns. “What?”

“Maybe I should stop drinking myself. If I was sober, I would have kept that remark to myself,” I say. “But if I was more drunk, we wouldn’t even be wasting our time talking right now. I’m not sure which I’d prefer.”

“And that is why I don’t drink,” she says with a chuckle. “I like to be in control of myself. As in control as I can be, anyway.”

“I’m always in control. So I drink as much as I want.” I raise my glass in a toast and then take a sip. “But if I can’t make you a drink, let me get you something else.”

“Huh?” She blinks in confusion.

I pick up the box I had one of the maids prepare before we left the mansion and set it on the coffee table. “This.”

Emery looks up at me, her eyes wary but curious. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out,” I snap. “Do you not know how gifts work?”

“I don’t get many gifts,” she admits.

“Then I’ll have to change that. Starting now.” I wave her towards the box again, and finally, she reaches out and lifts the lid.

“Oh,” she gasps. A smile spreads slowly across her face. “Is that… is this our wedding cake?”

The top tier of the cake is wrapped in plastic and sitting perfectly upright in the center of the cardboard box. The maids did a good job securing it for the flight. Aside from a few places where the plastic pressed too firmly into the frosting, it looks perfect. A miniature bride and groom lean off to the side.

“The only part of the wedding worth saving,” I murmur.

“The best part,” Emery agrees with a nod.

She carefully peels off the plastic wrap. A bit of frosting smears onto her finger, and she licks it off. I see it happen in slow motion. The drag of her pink lips over her delicate finger, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Oh my god, it’s so good,” she moans.

I reach over and swipe a finger of frosting to savor myself.

She laughs at the sight. “Adrik Tasarov has a sweet tooth. Who would have guessed?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”

Emery grabs one of the forks I tucked inside the box and cuts a bite. The sponge is white and soft with a fluffy layer of frosting between the layers. Black flecks of real vanilla beans are sprinkled throughout. It smells sweet and rich, and my mouth waters.

Not just because of the cake, though.

But because of how it feels to watch her enjoy it.

Emery moans as she chews and swallows. “Holy shit. Can you be attracted to cake? Because I think I’m in love.”

I walk around the coffee table and sit next to her on the sofa. Her bare thigh brushes against my leg, warm and soft. Forgoing the utensils, I grab a chunk with my fingers and hold it out to her.

“Open your mouth,” I rasp quietly.

She licks her lips before they part. I bring the bite closer. Her eyes flutter closed and the cake is almost brushing her lips…

“Actually, I have a question first,” I say, pulling the cake back quickly.

Emery blinks, a bit dazed. “Okay.”

“Where is Isabella’s father?”

She jerks back. “What the—What made you think of that?”

“Answer the question.”

“Are you torturing me?” The wariness is back in her eyes. “You tempt me with cake and then try to pry upsetting information out of me?”

“Upsetting for whom?”

“Me, for starters,” she says. “I don’t like talking about the man who… Isabella's father. If you can even call him that. He isn't worth the breath."

“Then let’s make this quick. Tell me where he is.”

A small crease forms between her brows. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I snap. “I’m your husband now. I deserve to know if—”

“Because I don’t know where he is,” she says. “I—I haven’t known where he is for a very, very long time. Believe me, he isn’t in the picture. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Right, I forgot. You don’t get worried.” She rolls her eyes. “Mr. Always In Control.”

The mood is shifting, and I don't like it. It was so simple, so natural co-existing with her in this comfortable truce we found after the chaos of the wedding. Like we’d finally found the rhythm of our dance.

Beyond that, it made it easy to get the answers I want from her.

“That makes you Mrs. Always In Control, doesn’t it?”

She can’t help but grin. “I guess it does.”

I set the cake aside, ignoring Emery’s little grunt of protest, and pull her closer to me. My knee slides between her warm legs, which open wider to make room. Her green eyes shift from mine to my lips and back again.

She may not be drinking, but her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright.

And she’s certainly not in control of herself. Not even a little bit.

“Part of always being in control means understanding who wants to take the reins from me,” I say softly. “But I don’t share and I don’t play well with others.”

“There’s no one to share with,” Emery whispers. “There has never been anyone else.”

The possessive side of me likes hearing that. Especially from Emery’s lips. I don’t want there to be anyone else. Ever.

She’s mine and mine alone.

“Good girl,” I breathe. “And if that’s really true, then I should adopt Isabella.”

Emery’s eyes widen. “What? Are you… do you mean that?”

“I told you I would take care of you both, and my name is a shield. It will protect her even when I’m not there.”

Slowly, Emery’s hand slides from her own leg over to mine, crossing the small space between us. She draws a circle on my skin. Her eyes stay cast down between us, like she doesn’t trust herself to look up at me.

“You care about her, don’t you?”

Maybe at one point in the not-so-distant past, I would have denied it. Or come up with another excuse.

But I want the truth from Emery, which means I have to give her the truth in return. Part of it, anyway. And this is an easy morsel to give.

“She’s a sweet girl. Innocent. I want to protect her from all the darkness in the world.”

“She’s only six. I’m not sure how much darkness there is for her yet.”

“You’d be surprised,” I grit. “My brother was not much older than her when… well, when the darkness found him.”

“What happened?” Her eyes lift to mine and I realize how close we are. Just a few inches separate us.

I shake my head. “It’s not my story to tell. The point is, I couldn’t save him. Not in time. It’s the only moment in my life that I’ve truly failed. The only thing I regret.”

“I’m sure you did everything you could.”

All the signs I missed, all the changes in Yasha… they play in the front of my mind like a movie I can't control. Looking back, I don't understand how I could have missed it.

“I tried. But once the darkness touches you… nothing can undo it. I couldn’t protect my brother. But I’ll do everything in my power to save Isabella. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Emery raises her hand to my face, dragging it across the stubble on my jawline. Her thumb brushes over my chin. “You are always taking care of people, Adrik. But who takes care of you?”

Before I even have the chance to answer, Emery closes the distance between us. Her lips brush across mine, softly at first, then more and more adventurous.

Her tongue runs across my lower lip and her hands curl around my neck, dragging me closer. I grip her hips and pull her onto my lap, settling back into the cushions so she can straddle me.

I feel her smile against my lips. "I was promised cake."

"And I'm a man of my word." I reach around her and grab a pinch of cake from the plate next to us.

I raise it to her lips and she closes them around my fingers, sucking them clean. A tiny dot of frosting lingers in the corner of her mouth. I pull her head down to me so I can lick it away.

Emery laughs and then her smile sharpens. She drags her finger through the frosting and smears a streak of it down her neck and across her chest. When she looks back up at me, there’s a challenge in her eyes.

“Here’s yours,” she teases.