Read Hating Beauty (The Vegas Titans Series Book 6) Online

Authors: Celia Loren

Hating Beauty (The Vegas Titans Series Book 6) (17 page)

Now I feel myself grinning as I
realize I hold the final ace in the hole.

“Well, ladies,” I announce, “I
happen to know there’s a limo hiding out back in the bushes. How about that? We
run from the law in style.”

“That will do.” Rusiko’s face is
inscrutable when she looks at me, but softens when she turns to her sister. “We
should go right away Keto, before your Amish friends show up to help and make
everything more complicated. Is there anything you and Natalia need to take
with you from here? Any goodbyes you need to say?”

The sister shakes her head,
smiling. “No. No goodbyes. They have been good to us here, but they will
understand. They will know that Natalia and I belong in a different world. I
don’t need to say goodbye. From now on I only want to say hello. Besides, I
have everything I need right here with me. I have you. You are all I need.”

She reaches her hands out, one to
Rusiko and the other to the little girl, who smiles and giggles in spite of
what must have been the most traumatic day of her young, sheltered life. Their
faces are all radiant, full, and beautiful as hell.

Oh crap. I feel the tears coming
again.

Now Rusiko looks at me, her gaze
searing me like a laser beam.

“And you Knox Cole,” she says, “Do
you have everything you need?”

She says it like a challenge, and my
heart starts hammering in my chest. Is that a challenge—or an invitation?

This is probably the only
opportunity I am going to get to say it.

This is my chance.

I’ve got to do it.

Ok, I’m doing it.

I’m doing it now.

Alright.

Ok.

Here I go.

Hey, it’s hard, alright!

Give a guy a minute.

And you, Knox Cole, do you have
everything you need?

“Not unless I can have you,” I say.
“Not unless you can forgive me, Rusudan, and believe me when I say that I love
you. I love you. You’re everything I need. I want you, and I love you, and I
need you.”

The sister lets out a low whistle
and laughs.

“Not a bad speech coming from an
American,” she says. “He sounds just like the movies, Rusiko. He has the courage.
Natalia, you remember when you grow up that you need a man who is willing to
say all those things to you, ok? And more, one that is willing to do them. One
who is willing to risk his life for you, like this man just risked his life for
your Aunt Rusiko, and for us.” The sister turns to look at me. “You, are you
willing keep doing that? Keep your life on the line for her?”

I turn to look at Rusiko, smiling
when I answer.

“Yes.” Somehow it’s the easiest,
most natural answer in the world.

Rusiko is staring at me hard, her
poker face impenetrable.

“What do you say, Rusiko?” I ask.

“What can I say? You love me?”

“I love you.”

“You want me?”

“I want you. You Katja, Jana,
Tatiana, Rusiko, Mystery Girl. I don’t care who you are or where you’re from or
where you’re going. I want you. And I want to go with you.”

“You want to be with me now? After
running away and leaving me in the middle of the night, you expect me to
believe that you want me? What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

“I’m not afraid anymore. I want to
be with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“That is what you need?”

“Yes. I need to be with you.”

“I told you I am leaving to
Georgia. I have to go. My family were princes there once, and still a very
powerful family. With our violent father dead Keto and I have responsibilities,
destinies, and an inheritance to manage there. A legacy to claim.”

I’ve always loved that she doesn’t
give up easy, that she doesn’t settle for less. I know she needs me to be clear
about my intentions. She needs something tangible.

I shrug. “Take me with you. Take me
with you to Georgia. Let me be a part of your life, if you’ll have me. There’s
nothing for me here without you. ”

Rusiko’s inscrutable face ripples
and changes, the broadest smile I have ever seen taking over all her features
until she is beaming at me as brightly as the sun. The happiness radiating from
her is so intense and immediate it is hard to picture the same reserved, careful
Mystery Girl. This new mystery, this love she’s showing me, is even more
beautiful than the mysteries I’ve seen in her before. She throws her arms
around me and kisses my cheek, raising a deep belly laugh out of me.

“Then I have all I need too,” she
shouts. “My family.” She steps back and looks at me again, reaching out her
hand. “And my family includes you, Knox, if you are willing.” She winks. “And
if you’ll convert to the Orthodox Church.”

I don’t even care if that is a
joke. I’d promise anything in this moment. I’d do anything for her. With a
thundering heart and a buzzing high, I reach out and close my hands around
hers, only then remembering that my wrists are still tied together.

“A little help for the hostage?”

We laugh, and Rusiko wrestles with
the knot until the bonds fall to the ground and I am free.

I am free.

Freer than I have ever felt before.

The first thing I do with my free
hands is grab Rusiko, pulling her into my arms: kissing her as deep, hard, and
long as I possibly can.

“I am willing,” I murmur. “I am
willing to do whatever it takes to be with you. For good.”

Epilogue

Rusudan Tsetsilia Dadiana

Samegrelo Province, Georgia

We are laughing as we run through
the sun shower, the light spring raindrops invigorating and caressing my skin,
making my silk dress cling to my body like a lover. Behind us the view of the
Egrisi Mountains is stunning, heartbreakingly beautiful, seeming to rise
straight to heaven. In front of us, my family’s country home sparkles like a
jewel before the glistening coast of the Black Sea. The deep blue-green waves
calm, deep, and rich.

It is more than I have ever dreamed
of, to be here again and whole: to have some of my family’s land to myself, to
have my sister and niece around me, and most of all, to have love.

Real love.

My body, spirit, and mind have
never felt more unified—more alive. I’ve never been stronger or feistier than
now, breathing my native air and thriving in affectionate intimacy. It had been
so long since I felt the joy of home, that I had forgotten the feeling. And
even the memories of joy I used to live off of, alone in New York, were nothing
compared to the reality of my life now. I never dreamed I’d be this happy to be
home, and even happier to make my own home as a woman. My own life—mine to
share, to give, and to create with those I love.

I’d never dreamed I could be so
eager to run to this door I’ve already passed through a million times, and will
pass through a million times more. It is the front door that I remember from my
childhood, the front door of my forever home.

But this time approaching it is different.
This time I am more excited than ever before. This time I am wearing my wedding
dress: I am rushing to my wedding night, my heart light, my mind at ease, and
my future bright.

I can’t get there fast enough.

No matter how fast I sprint I
cannot outrun Knox—he gains on me, laughing as he snags his arms around my
waist and lifts me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What are you doing!?” I squeal,
giggling.

“What do you think I am doing,” he
growls in mock sternness. “You don’t think I’m going to let my bride walk over
the threshold herself, do you? I told you when I got here, that from now on,
I’m going to do everything right. Prepare yourself for the most amazing husband
ever. Ready? Are you ready? Do you think you can handle the most amazing
husband ever?”

So help me, he always makes me
laugh. What is his secret, his charm? It never stops thrilling me.

He slings me forward so that I am
carried in his arms like a child. I can feel his strong arms around my body,
his broad chest supporting me, and I stare up into the handsomest, most
satisfied face I have ever seen.

“I’d never guess you were such a
stickler for tradition,” I tease. “In that case we probably shouldn’t have
slept together last night. Or the night before that. Or the night before that
or the night before that…”

He kisses my lips lightly,
tauntingly, making a guttural noise in his throat.

“My commitment to tradition comes
and goes, and I wouldn’t give up a night with you for anything. That’s why I’ve
reserved you for every night you’ve got left until you’re dead. All mine. No
backing out.”

“And you’re all mine,” I remind him.
“No backing out, and no sharing.”

“It’s a deal.”

His expression goes hilariously
serious as he ceremoniously steps through the front door of the villa, as if he
is pretending we really are the Prince and Princess Dadiani, the ancestral
rulers of Samegrelo. In keeping with my family’s former status, the staff of
the house have lined up to greet us in the entry hall, and as soon as we burst
through the door they are cheering, tossing white flower petals in the air and
whistling. Knox remains stoic and stiff like an actor in a period piece as he
bows formally.

“You didn’t tell me I’d be
performing for a group,” he whispers. “I thought tonight was a private show for
your eyes only.”

“You said you like traditions,” I
laugh. “This is very traditional.”

He grins impishly, taking my hand
in his. “I know another tradition.”

“What is that?” I ask innocently.

He kisses my cheek, his lips
tickling towards my ear as I feel his hot breath form the words: “A long, long
wedding night. Come on!”

He starts running then, jerking my
hand and body along behind him, and we are all laughing—the servants laugh and
whoop after us, I can’t catch my breath for giggling. Even Knox is chuckling
happily as he dashes up the stairs, down the hall, and to a large familiar door.

The bedroom.

He slams the door behind us,
panting, and he faces me with an animal hunger that still makes me feel hot and
weak in the knees. We are both grinning like idiots. His face is full of
promise as he grabs my hips and slams me up against the door, rowdy and wild, his
kiss a fierce possession that frees and enflames me.

“I love you,” I breathe, already
wet and eager as he kisses my neck, runs his hands on my breasts.

“God I love you, woman. I love you
forever strong.”

His hands work furiously to lift
the skirt of my wedding dress even as I desperately strain to wrap my legs
around him, my arms around him, my tongue around his.

Each touch of his rough, tough
hands through the silk of my dress feeds my hunger for more. I can’t get
enough. No matter how many times we make love, I need at least one more. It is
merciful that he is mine, that I can spend the rest of my life loving him. I
need it, a life with him. I yearn for it.

I am ready for it, as I can tell he
is ready for me. I can feel his body yearning for mine, restless, needing me
like a ship seeking a safe harbor. I can feel his cock, hard and ready. I can
feel our future trembling between us like a secret, ours, sacred.

And I can feel his love.

“Every night, love,” he murmurs,
entering me, “For the rest of our lives.”

THE END