Glazov listened to Roksana’s retreating footsteps with a heavy heart. His daughter was impulsive. Undisciplined. As much as Kathleen cautioned him not to push the idea, he looked forward to the day Roksana became a mother. Only then, with her baby pressed to her breast, would she have a deeper understanding of just how fragile life was and, he hoped, stop tempting fate.

Her craving for adrenalin far surpassed that of the men who worked for him. When combined with her bloodlust and stubborn will, and it was a recipe for trouble.

“That daughter of yours…” Glazov voiced his frustration to his wife upon entering their bedroom, his voice little more than an irritable growl. She looked up at the sound of his voice, frowning as she wondered what was causing his unease. This man would forever hold not just her life but her heart in his hands—hands stained with the blood of his enemies. She knew him better than anyone; there was no sense in trying to hide it. Maybe she could offer him some comfort and shed some light on how to deal with their daughter.

“Why is it that I get the blame any time Roksana fucks up?” she asked, her voice amused.

Glazov cut his eyes at his wife as she closed her laptop and took her reading glasses off, setting them on top of it. “Because she’s just like you,” he snarled in his defense.

“I dare say she’s like both of us, for better or worse. That, in and of itself, is bad news for anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in her line of fire.” Kathleen patted the bed next to her but he ignored her, fuming as he removed his robe. The ominous glint in his eyes made it clear that talking didn’t interest him.

She moved her laptop and glasses over to the nightstand and pressed back against the headboard, as if it could swallow her up and save her. But she wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else because she knew she was the antidote for her husband’s darkness. Though she had grown accustomed to his temperament over the years, there was still a part of her that feared him. Of course, that only added to his sex appeal. Go figure.

He smirked at his wife’s obvious unease, feeding off her anxiety while all the while knowing that she felt the same anticipation that clawed at his veins. How could she know what he might do when he wasn’t certain himself? Not when it came to her. A consuming passion like theirs was experienced by only a lucky few. Neither of them ever took for granted how they remained in each other’s sexual thrall after so many years together.

One side of his lip curled when he noted her squirming slightly, moving her hips as if she could ward off the inevitable – or perhaps thinking of the pleasure to come. Yes…they were made for each other. It was as if the Bratva gods had preordained their union, ensuring they married—even if it had been necessary for him to orchestrate the sequence of events that had gotten them there.

He wondered sometimes what his path would have been had she not walked into his gambling house all those years ago. His heart could love no other, he knew that much. And the mere idea of her finding happiness with anyone else was untenable. No, he would have found his Ptichka one way or another, even if it had taken him to the last hour of the last day of a long, lonely life to do so.

Kathleen’s eyes were glued to those broad shoulders and that massive chest that rippled with thick slabs of deliciously formed muscle. Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. She marveled at this man who still looked like he’d been hewn from God’s own granite.

His robe discarded on the floor, he stood gloriously nude by the bed. His cock jutted straight out toward her, weeping glistening streams of pre-cum that made her mouth water.

“I’m still as captivated by you as I was the first time I saw you.” He rested a knee on her side of the bed as he wrapped his big hand around her throat, his grip light, just enough for him to feel the lifeforce pumping through her jugular. She slid her hand between his legs, marveling that this powerful, autocratic man’s physical form was hers touch and kiss and claw for her pleasure. Despite his dominant nature, he gave his wife free rein to explore his body to the fullest, craving her touch as much as she craved his.

She cradled his balls before wrapping her hand around his cock, slowly stroking and exploring the velvety steel. As she lost herself in his cruel blue eyes, she knew what she wanted to do. She moved back, stifling a smile at the imperious scowl that darkened his face at her withdrawal. With a look that could only be described as naughty, she twisted around on the bed until she was lying on her back, her head tilted back off the edge of the mattress. He stilled as she slowly bent her legs and slid them wide apart. Her tongue slid along her eagerly parted lips as she waited for him. Glazov moved forward and braced his hands on the mattress on either side of her, looming over her as she fluttered the tip of her tongue beneath the broad mushroom head of his shaft, tasting the precum that glistened there.

The head of Glazov’s cock was so taut and swollen with need that she knew it wouldn’t take much to make him come. She scraped her nails along the backs of his thighs, eliciting a surprised hiss from her Russian lover. As she worked her lips and tongue over his cock, she caressed his balls, hefting their considerable weight in the palm of her hand, stroking the soft skin with her fingertips. As he murmured mindless words of praise, he fucked her mouth with a steady, forceful rhythm.

Without warning, he sealed his mouth over her pussy, laughing softly at her muffled cry of pleasure. She was silky smooth beneath his tongue, and so sweet. Always so sweet.

He gave a low growl of regret as he straightened and fisted her hair, pulling her suckling mouth off his cock with a distinct popping sound. When she pouted up at him, he slid his gaze over her curves and declared, “Oh, you’ll get yours, Ptichka. Now, on your knees.”

He flipped her over onto her hands and knees, facing away from him. He yanked her hips back toward him and shoved her flimsy nightgown over her hips. At her lack of panties, he murmured his approval and swatted her ass. With his hand wrapped around his considerable girth, he slid the head of his cock up and down her slit. Then slowly, inexorably, he thrust deep inside her until he could go no further. Fully seated within her, he held the position for a long moment, sweat gathering on his forehead as he savored the sensation of her pussy yielding to him.

“Ah, Ptichka, you set me free from this bloodthirsty world even as you hold my flesh captive. I love you to distraction.”

He began to move, his thrusts quickly becoming more demanding as he took all that she had to offer. But it still wasn’t enough, would never be enough. He wanted to drive so deeply inside her that they would no longer be two people, but one. They had surely come close over the years; they knew each other’s minds, often finishing each other’s sentences, on occasion communicating effortlessly by simply making eye contact across a crowded room. For one to be without the other would be a soulless journey neither would survive.

Kathleen’s fingers clutched at the duvet as she struggled to contain the rising fever in her veins when the orgasm overtook her. When he felt the unmistakable silken clenching around his cock, he threw his head back and released inside her with a roar of mindless pleasure. His arms were wrapped tight around her as he claimed her once more, his most precious possession.

He rested his forehead between her shoulder blades, taking long, unsteady breaths as his hands roamed her curves, paying special attention to the parts of her that were known only to him. He pulled her close and told her all that was weighing on his mind.

“She’s reckless. There is no more dangerous quality. I wonder at times if they don’t give in to her crazy ideas because she’s the Pakhan’s daughter. I’m certain it’s hard to say no to her when she holds that kind of power.” Kathleen’s chuckle confused him and he frowned as he looked down at her.

“I’m sorry, Glazov, but I have to disagree.”

“Disagree? With what?” he grumbled.

“I think you’re underestimating Oleg. He’s not the kind of man to be led around by any woman, even if she is the Pakhan’s daughter.”

“What’s your take on it?”

“I think they’re young, wild, and free. You haven’t forgotten your youthful antics with Novak, have you?”

“No. We were crazy, too.”

“You’re both still crazy. Wisdom comes with age, eventually.”

“And children. Once you’re responsible for a tiny life, you learn to pick and choose your battles.”

“Agreed. I, for one, think our daughter is using wisdom by not getting pregnant right now. She’s looking out for you, you know. With Natasha pregnant, you would be short two workers -- two prolific workers.”

“Well, I will give her that, she’s all about ‘family first’. But I don’t want her putting her life on hold because of me.”

Kathleen turned in his arms to face him, draping herself across his chest with one leg over his thighs. She ran her hand over his chest and pressed a kiss over his heart. “Don’t underestimate our daughter, Glazov. Just when you think you have her figured out, she’ll throw you a curve ball.”

The statement didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it made him feel worse. Because he knew it was true.