THE GATEKEEPER

There's no kink involved in this coupling. No finesse. Nothing but wild, animalistic need. A feral claiming of bodies as if we could tear past the physical and claim each other's souls.

My balls draw up tight. "I'm going to come," I warn her, unable to slow myself, unable to think past my own driving need to take care of hers.

"Yes! Come!" she urges me.

I pound in and out of her as all the blood rushes below my waist. I choke on a breath, and then I'm hurtling over the edge, into oneness. Into infinite space. That floating, bodiless, wild realm where everything and nothing exist at once. When I return to Earth, Kira's in my arms. I'm still rocking into her, but gently now, a slow deceleration. A communion. A love-song lullaby that I want to last forever.

When it ends, neither of us says a word. I roll us to our sides, and we remain there, bodies intertwined. Hearts entangled.

Souls permanently stamped with the imprint of the other.

Kira

At bedtime, Maykl grabs two towels and tells me to follow him.

"Is there a pool? Where are we going? Do I need my boots?"

"Boots yes, but not a coat. It's a hot tub."

Hot tub. I love it.

Since our explosive sex this afternoon, things have shifted even more between us. I feel far less like his captive than his cherished lover.

Thoughts of escape still flit through my mind, but each time I dismiss them faster. I'm more and more committed to staying and letting things play out with Maykl. I still don't know what that means or looks like, but I want to find out. We leave the apartment, trailed by the two brigadiers outside the door. We take the elevator to the top floor, then take a short flight of stairs to the rooftop.

It's freezing cold, but steam rises in a thick fog from one area of the roof.

Maykl stops when we hear female laughter.

"Who is it?" a male voice calls out.

"Maykl. Sorry, I didn't know anyone was up here."

"It's all right. We're dressed. It's a party!" the female voice calls out in English with a Russian accent.

Maykl takes my hand, pulling me closer to his side as we advance.

Through the steam, I see six figures sitting in a hot tub.

"Come on in. There's plenty of room," a redhead says.

The occupants are arranged in pairs. A blond man drapes his tattooed arm around the redhead's shoulders. Kat, the young woman from the pottery studio, sits with another tattooed man, and a small, dark-haired woman is nestled against another blond man.

Maykl kicks off his boots and strips to a pair of swim shorts. I don't have a swimsuit, but I'm not shy. I strip down to my bra and panties and follow him into the tub.

"Kira, this is Maxim and Sasha, Adrian and you already met his girlfriend, Kat, and Nikolai and Chelle."

I lift a hand in shy greeting as I immerse myself in the water. Maykl catches my waist and pulls me back against him to settle on his lap.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your sister," Maxim says, answering my question of whether these people knew anything about me. If they're angry at me for what I've done, it doesn't show. Everyone relaxes casually in the hot tub as if I'm just an ordinary woman-Maykl's new girlfriend, not the woman who planted bugs and sent their security information to the FBI.

I double check his expression, but he doesn't seem to be sneering. His comment appears genuine. Perfectly polite.

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Very un-bratva-like.

"Yes, sorry for your loss," Nikolai murmurs, and the other man, Adrian, nods his agreement.

"I hate when everyone knows something I don't," Sasha complains. "But I'm sorry for your loss, too."

"Um. Yes. Thank you." What does one say in a situation like this? I'm sorry I tried to screw you, and please don't kill me? "Uh, thank you for letting me scatter her ashes today." Maxim's casual position doesn't change. "It was not my call."

Okay, so he's not the pakhan. He seems to carry himself with that kind of authority.

"Your freedom comes at Maykl's pleasure and that of our pakhan."

The dark-haired woman named Chelle tenses and throws me a worried glance. Nikolai covers her ears. "Ear muffs, freckles. Nothing you need to concern yourself with." "What's going on?" Sasha asks.

Maykl's fingers splay across my belly. It feels possessive but also protective. Like he's letting me know we're a unit. "Nothing, sugar. It's handled. You're safe," Maxim tells her.

Sasha cocks her head. "Was I not safe?"

"You're safe," he repeats firmly. To me, he says, "Your nephew and his new family will fly out to meet you tomorrow."

My lips part in surprise. His new family. Wow. Maykl tried to warn me of this, but I still haven't digested it. "Fly from where?"

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Maxim shakes his head. "You'll learn it all when the time comes."

I lift my gaze to study Maykl. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I relax. It can't be horrible, whatever it is they have planned for me. It doesn't feel wrong.

Nothing about any of these people feels particularly menacing although I know all three men are bratva. They must be dangerous criminals. Yet, seeing them with the women they obviously adore makes them completely different. Normal, almost.

Whatever normal is.

Certainly not me.

They all seem very human. The women aren't junkies or whores. They appear to be beautiful, intelligent women who are in love with their chosen partners.

And Mika is flying out to meet me.

That may be a lie or a manipulation, but it doesn't feel like one.

"Kira said she'd like to learn to throw pots," Maykl offers.

"At you," Nikolai mutters.

Maxim smirks. A joke. These men joke with each other.

Kat smiles at me. "You should. I can teach you. Want to come down tomorrow?"

"I'd love to." I answer her immediately, even though Maykl said it was something I had to earn. I'm daring him to contradict me.