The Bratva's Bride (Wicked Doms 2)

“No more institutions,” I promise.

“Thank you,” she whispers. I draw her to my chest and hug her.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “You found Maksym. You brought joy to me. But more, Larissa.” I squeeze her, because I can’t let her go. And now that I don’t have to, I will spend the rest of my life showing her how much she means to me. “You’ve brought purpose to my life,” I tell her. “And I will spend my life showing you how much that means to me.”EpilogueFour months later“America?” she blinks in surprise, her fork raised halfway to her mouth at breakfast. We’re sitting at our table, as we usually do, eating our morning meal together.

We do everything together. Everything. She joins me when I hit the workout room, and does her own routine. When she spends time with her sister, I go downstairs. It took me some time to get used to seeing double, but the feeling quickly dissipated because Calina and Larissa are like night and day. I’m thankful Larissa has her own name now, because it represents a new start. A new life together.

“America,” I tell her. “We are going to visit my friends Kazimir and Sadie. They live near the ocean in Washington State.”

Though Maksym is recovering physically, he hasn’t mentally. He would give his captors nothing, and he endured endless torture as a result. He flails in his sleep and experiences intense post-traumatic stress syndrome.

After months of therapy, his therapist said it’s time for a change of pace. The doctor suggested a move, something even drastic to get him out of his current state of mind. He broods in angry silence, and has expressed thanks for saving his life, but other than that, doesn’t speak.

With Amaranov gone, and a new official in his place, our rivals seem distracted. We’ve agreed to a temporary truce while the politicians sort out their new roles.

I have not forgotten the way they tortured Maksym. I have not forgotten their traitorous plans with Amaranov. But for now, I will see to the rest and taking care of Larissa and Maksym. They are my family.

So when Kazimir, our former brother who now lives in the States, offered to take Maksym into his home, I agreed.

Larissa and I will join him on the trip.

Her reaction surprises me, her lower lip trembling. “I haven’t been to America since…” Her voice trails off. Since her mother died. Since her father took her and Calina to Russia.

“Well. Is there anything you miss about it?” I ask curiously. She places her fork down.

“Anything I miss? Are you kidding? I miss the food.” She looks away. “The ocean. The language. She shoots me a withering look. “Reliable fucking internet.” I stifle a smile. Larissa is no submissive, and it’s one thing I love about her. “I miss democracy. The very air in America different.”

I scoff. “Pollution smells different than the clean mountains? You miss that?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” she says, buttering her rye bread. “And for the love of God, I want an American donut, not those little fried dough things you top with powdered sugar and pass off as donuts.”

I give her a curious look. “What do you put on American donuts?”

“Chocolate and jam and glaze,” she says, licking her lips.

“That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s delicious.”

I can’t help but smile. She’s adorable and feisty, hot-tempered and brilliant. Loyal and outspoken.

And all mine.

She continues. “Good coffee. Coffee shops!”

“What’s wrong with our coffee?”

“Yoga,” she says, on a tirade now, ignoring my question.

“Yoga? Why the fuck can’t you do yoga here?”

“It’s not the same. Traffic-free driving,” she continues listing American amenities off her fingers while she chews her bread. “Affordable shopping. Sales racks. People who smile.”

“Okay, now you’re taking this too far,” I say with mock severity. “We smile here!”

“Like once a year on Christmas,” she mutters, wagging a finger at me chidingly. “You, sir, are an austere group of people.”

I get up from my chair and love how her eyes widen. I love how she still calls me sir.

“That’s enough, little kisa,” I tell her, but my tone holds a teasing edge, feigning to be affronted. “Don’t take this too far. Is there anything you actually like about mother Russia?”

I gather her in my arms and sit her on my knee, and when she smiles, it’s like sun breaking through clouds after a long winter. My chest warms and I can’t help but smile back.

“There are many things I like about Russia, Demyan. But what I love most about it is you.”

She frames my face with her little, soft hands.

When her lips meet mine, I know I’ll give her everything she wants and more. American donuts and good coffee, a shopping spree that beats all shopping sprees, and I’ll even smile at her. I’ll make love to her when she wants slow and steady, and I’ll fuck her when she needs her stern master. I’ll kiss her to sleep and hold her to me, promising sweet dreams and undying devotion. I’ll slay her demons and protect her to the very death. Larissa is my special girl, my woman. My everything.