50. April

50

APRIL

I crash into Matvey's chest before I can even think about it. "You really mean it? You'll marry me?"

"Yes." He holds me close for a moment, then lets out a low chuckle. "But if you want me to do this properly, you'll have to let me go."

Reluctantly, I oblige. I don't want to let him go—I never want to let him go again—but part of me is too curious to resist.

"Fine. Be quick?"

"Promise."

Then he gets down on one knee.

My heart jumps. It's like all the breath has been knocked out of my lungs. My mouth is hanging open like a goldfish's, because this can't be what he meant, can it? He can't be…

Proposing .

"Actually, this isn't proper at all," Matvey corrects himself. "I've got no ring, no roses, not even a glass of champagne."

"I'm in my pajamas," I blurt back. "I look like a mess."

"You look beautiful." His eyes lock with mine, so blue and deep I could lose myself in them. Maybe I already have. "And I promise I will do this properly?—"

"When my hair is done."

"When your hair is done," he concedes. "But I couldn't wait a moment longer."

Then he pulls something out of his pocket.

I squint. Despite the dim lights, I manage to make out a piece of fabric, long and sleek and gray. No, blue.

No— cornflower blue.

It's a hair ribbon. My hair ribbon. From when we first met.

"You kept it all this time?"

"Always," he replies, and it sounds like the truth. Like a vow.

Wordlessly, he ties it to my finger. I have no ring , he said, but this is better than a ring, better than any diamond.

This is us .

And it's all I ever wanted.

"April Esther Flowers…"

"I never told you my middle name," I sniffle, but there's no stopping the smile spreading on my cheeks.

"I have my sources." He winks. "Now, can I please pop the question?"

I look at the ribbon around my finger. At his tie, his suit—the same one from the shop. I didn't notice until now, but it's the very same, down to the gray shirt and blue tie. Ours. "Do it."

"April Esther Flowers, will you marry me?"

Will I? After you've made me fall in love with you in every possible way, will I marry you?

"Yes." I nod, crying and laughing at the same time. "Yes, Matvey Groza, I'll marry you."

The second he stands back up, I fly into his arms. He twirls me like I'm weightless, the curve of his smile pressed against my skin. It's such a rare thing, I want to burn it there forever.

Forever. Maybe we can have that after all.

I'm expecting my feet to touch the ground, but they don't. "Matvey?"

"I'm sorry."

I blink. "You already apologized."

"No, I'm sorry for this." He carries me to the bedroom, then presses me down on the mattress. "I can't wait anymore," he rasps, voice filled with desire. "I want you now."

My eyes go dark and hooded. "Then take me."

And he does.

He takes me every way he can, any way he wants me. He takes me with his mouth first, capturing my lips like a hunter with his prey, like he wants to eat me whole.

When his teeth graze my throat, I sigh. "Matvey."

When his beard scratches my inner thigh, I keen. " Matvey. "

When his tongue plunges deep inside me, hot and rough and beautiful, all I can do is hold on for dear life. "Matvey!"

" Blyat' ," he curses against my flesh. "Say it again. Let me hear you, kalina ."

So I do. I say his name like a prayer, letting it echo in the four walls of our bedroom. I say it like a vow. It's sacred, it's obscene. It's both, because that's what we are: a mix of the best and worst of us.

"Fuck me," I gasp. "I need you."

I'm so wet I could come from his gaze alone, but he doesn't let me. Instead, he parts my legs ferociously and yanks me forward until our hips are flush together. Until there can't possibly be a distinction between us.

Then he sinks into me.

I grab the sheets and twist them in my hands. I know this isn't our wedding night, but it feels like it is. All the ingredients are here: a vow, a kiss, a bed. His rough palms on my breasts, his hard cock pushing its way into me. I lock my ankles at the small of his back, refusing to let go.

"April," he groans. "Fuck, April. I can't… I need to?—"

"Do it," I rasp. "I'm yours."

That's all it takes to convince him.

He throws one leg around his shoulder and starts fucking me in earnest, spearing me open with every thrust. There's no self-control in it, no restraint—only raw, selfish need .

"Just like that," I moan. "Just like that, Matvey, I— ahh ? — "

He finds my hand and covers it with his. I can feel his warm fingers fill the gaps between mine. His mouth descends on me: hungry, primal, possessive. Like he can't bear to have a single inch of empty space between us. His cock keeps pistoning inside me, trying to reach the deepest part of me.

"Matvey, I'm gonna?—"

"Come for me," he snarls. "Come for me, kalina. Only for me."

"For you," I promise. "Only for you."

Then I see white.

It's the most intense orgasm I've ever had. For a second, it's like my body doesn't belong to me at all; like it belongs to him. Pleasure sparks so hot, I'm afraid I'm going to pass out, but Matvey doesn't let me. He just keeps going .

So I come again. And again, and again, until I lose track of it all: my pleas, my cries, my prayers. Night turning into day. Into everything.

Everything for us.

By the time I manage to grab a shower, it's well into the day. "Morning." I smile as I step out.

"Morning," Matvey greets, even though it's almost noon. "Slept well?"

"No," I laugh. "Not a wink. You made sure of that."

"That I did." He presses a kiss to my ring finger, the one with the ribbon still tied. Even under the spray, I refused to take it off. "My future wife deserves nothing less."

Wife. It still seems so unreal, so dreamlike. "Maybe we should just elope. Next month, I mean."

"Mhmm."

"Planning weddings is expensive."

"I can do expensive."

"And time-consuming."

"Someone's in a rush to lock me down."

"Can you blame me?"

I say it jokingly, but Matvey's eyes turn intense, his hand coming to hold mine. "No," he says. "Anything you want."

For a second, words fail me. I don't think I'll ever get used to it: being on the other side of that look. The sheer adoration in it.

"Even if it's a shotgun wedding?"

"Even if it's a shotgun wedding."

"No literal shotguns, though."

"I'll be sure to clear that with the guests." He presses one last kiss to my knuckles, then rises from the bed. "I have to go now."

"I know." I press a kiss right back. "Wars don't win themselves."

"No, they don't. And little brothers who won't pick up the phone need to be scolded back into line."

"Yuri's ghosting you?" I laugh. Talk about attitude.

"Apparently. To think, I wanted to give him less work. Serves me right."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it once he finds out." Matvey goes to pick up his jacket, but I stop him. "Wait. I have something you can change into."

I walk up to the mannequin and take off the sheet.

Matvey shakes his head, but there's a hint of a smile there. "How come you've always got a suit jacket waiting for me?"

"That's kinda my whole thing." I wink. "Try it on?" He obligingly turns his back to me. I slip it around his shoulders, letting him get a feel for it. "Good? Not too rigid?"

He grins. "It's perfect."

Of course it is. I made it with him in mind. Everything, from the sleek black fabric to the lining, was picked for one person.

My person.

I steal one more kiss at the door. "Call me later?"

"I will."

The next hour goes by in a giddy flurry of activity. I get dressed, fix some of the mess around the house, take care of May. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead." I swear, if I hadn't gone to wake her, she might've just slept the day away.

My stomach's growling for lunch when I hear the doorbell. "Room service?" I wonder out loud. Maybe Matvey sent them for me?

Or maybe he decided to come back early?

But when I open the door, it's not room service. Or Matvey.

"Yuri!" I jump up to hug him. "It's been so long. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Hi," he replies, taken aback.

To his immense relief, I let him go. "Been busy with work?"

"Yeah," he says. "Kind of. Is Matvey around?"

"You just missed him," I tell him. "He took Grisha and went to work. He was looking for you, actually."

"Really?" he asks. "Did he say why?"

"Nope." I shrug. "Just that you were ghosting him."

I turn my back and lean down to fix the last of the mess in the living room. I mean, it's Yuri, but still—can't show him I've been living in a pigsty.

"Hey, are you hungry?" I ask. "I was just about to call up room service. Why don't you stop for lunch? You can spend a little time with May, and we can?—"

"I'm sorry."

I blink. "Oh, that's okay! I understand if you can't stay. We can catch up some other time, or?—"

"I'm really sorry, April."

"It's fine! You shouldn't?—"

BAM!

Pain explodes behind my head. Suddenly, everything starts spinning. "—apolo… gize… huh…?"

I fall on my back, but someone catches me.

I try desperately not to blink. It's like the world is fading, pulsing in and out of focus. "Yu… ri…?"

It's the last thing I see: Yuri's eyes, hard and cold, unlike any other time I've seen them. Like they belong to an entirely different person.

And his face, overflowing with heartbreak.

"I'm sorry. I had no choice."

My head swims, and the world goes black.