To Have and to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  “It was too far.” He gathered her against his chest, trapping her in his arms. “Now, what is this all about? Why are you so nervous? Are you about to break up with me? Because if so, I won’t allow it.” His tone had been teasing, but his muscles were tense.

  She let her head fall on his shoulder, then nestled her face into the warm spot in the crook of his neck. Her favorite spot. She inhaled deeply, letting his scent soothe her. “You won’t allow it? Am I stuck with you?”

  “Yes, of course. A vodyanoy never releases his victims.”

  Past the joking, she could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Was he afraid to lose her? Or was she imagining things?

  “Is that it, little bird?” The question was so soft, she almost couldn’t hear it. “Are you done with me?”

  A lump formed in her throat, but she spoke past it. “Never, Master. But . . .”

  He pushed her to sit up, then looked her hard in the eyes. “But, what?”

  Just say it, Varushka. Her eyes watered but she pushed forward bravely. “I need to know if you want me . . .”

  “Of course I want you.”

  “. . . and my baby.” She braced herself. “Our baby.”

  He blinked a few times, as if he hadn’t fully comprehended what she’d said. Then his gaze dropped to her stomach. She placed a hand there. When he looked at her again, she nodded as his eyes widened and filled with understanding.

  “A baby?” he repeated. “You’re pregnant?”

  She’d expected some amount of shock, but her heart beat rapidly in her chest, waiting for what came next. “Yes.”

  His lips curved in a big grin, then he pulled her up tight against him. “A baby! I can’t believe it! But how?”

  He sounded . . . excited. Excited? She pulled out of his grip so she could see his face. Although he was good at fooling other people, she could usually tell if he was hiding something. “You’re okay with this?”

  “Okay? I’m not okay, I’m fucking ecstatic! It’s a shock, but I’m thrilled. A baby is . . .”—his smile was contagious—“is . . . amazing.” He stared at her like a million happy thoughts were running through his head at once. It was interesting seeing it from the other side. Then a look of concern settled behind his eyes. “Oh, Varushka. I’m sorry. I’m so wrapped up in how excited I am I forgot to ask if you were okay.”

  “I was surprised, but other than you, this baby is the best thing that has happened in my life.” She cocked her head, staring into his eyes, trying to read the truth there. “Are you sure you want us? Because I would understand if you didn’t. I don’t want to be an obligation. You didn’t ask for this.” Her hand splayed automatically over her belly, warding the child from his possible rejection.

  For a moment, he looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. “I love you, Varushka. This baby just makes everything sweeter.” Smiling, he cupped her face in his hands and pecked her on the lips. “I’ll love this baby.” He moved his hands from her face to her belly, laying them over her own. “I already love this baby.” Laughing, he looked at her again. “You’re mine, Varushka. From the moment Baba sent me your picture you’ve been mine.”

  She had to admit, if he was faking, he was doing a damned good job. But then her heart spoke, louder than her head, drowning out her doubt and fear. Of course he’s excited, it said. He loves you. He’ll never leave you. He’s your Master.

  Her Master.

  Then she grinned with him. More tears came. Master kissed them all away—on her cheeks, her chin, even her eyelashes. All her anxiety, her apprehension, faded.

  He loved her.

  She’d marry him, knowing he chose her out of love, not obligation. And their baby would be born into loving arms, knowing it was desperately wanted. She couldn’t think of a better ending to her fairy tale.

  Epilogue

  Even though it was a back hallway in a tiny church in a backwater Russian town, the painstaking detail of the murals all around them was astonishing. They boasted a wealth of color and heavy gold accents so much more impressive than the simple, elegant churches that other faiths seemed to have. It made the one he’d taken Varushka to in America look plain. Here, it was go big or go home.

  Konstantin fiddled with his left cuff link, impatient to get on with things but having nothing to do until Varushka and her parents showed up. Part of him still worried her father would back out at the last minute, or bring a rifle. This wasn’t exactly how Konstantin had wanted things to go, even though the end result was the same—he was getting what he wanted.

  Varushka had trusted him not to get her pregnant, and yet here they were. He knew that condoms sometimes failed, but that was the sort of thing that happened to other people—like to teenage boys who didn’t know how to put them on right. Putting Varushka in the position where they were marrying under what her father and community considered shameful circumstances had never been his plan. Not that the community knew, but he was sure rumors would follow their very sudden nuptials, especially after her father had probably just finished bad-mouthing him all over the village.

  “You realize you suck.” Ambrose gripped Konstantin’s shoulder and gave it a shake. “Now they’re all going to want one.”

  Banner raised his brows and shrugged. “I’m ready anytime. The idea of my baby growing in Kate’s belly is hot.”

  Konstantin’s cheeks heated, but his friends were kind enough not to mention it. He made a hissing noise at them and glanced around. “This is a church. Shut up.”

  “Yes. We should be careful in case the empty hallway or the priest who doesn’t speak English overhears us.” Ambrose nodded, picking a piece of lint off Konstantin’s suit jacket. “What were we thinking?”

  “Be nice,” Banner chided their friend. “He’s probably nervous.”

  “I thought I would be, but I’m not.” A strange calm had settled over him in the past few days. Marrying his Varushka and knowing their baby was growing inside her should have freaked him out, but instead his elation had become almost unbearable. Varushka was so radiantly happy that all of his worry over ruining her had vanished. This was what she wanted—he was what she wanted—even after having time to think about it and after he’d accidentally trapped her into marrying him.

  Although they were ten minutes late, Varushka and her family eventually arrived. For those ten harrowing minutes, he was sure her father had stolen her away and he was going to have to spend the rest of his life searching for her. Then Varushka swept in, her parents struggling to keep up.

  From the determined expression on her sweet face she would have dragged her father the whole twenty miles on foot, if necessary.

  Varushka was breathtaking in her mother’s wedding dress, a handmade gown that was so intricately beaded and embroidered it looked almost too heavy for Varushka to carry, and yet she wore it as though it weighed nothing. With her red hair pinned up in loops and coils and covered with a pretty veil, she looked every inch a princess.

  With his friends standing for him and their women and Antonia standing for Varushka, things were perfect. Baba and Anatoli seemed to have come to a truce. Lyuda was beaming. Varushka’s brothers were aware of why the wedding was being rushed, but were apparently also pleased to have a rich sister to visit in America.

  The ceremony was long and entirely in Russian, but even Ambrose managed to behave himself. Konstantin had wondered whether Ambrose would burst out laughing when the priest placed the huge golden crowns on his and Varushka’s heads, but his friend hadn’t made a sound. Her father had stared daggers at him the whole time, but he’d make it up to the man eventually. Hopefully, for Varushka’s sake.

  He was the conqueror and had stolen his bride fair and square. How much more traditional could a wedding get?

  After changing into a sundress and kissing everyone good-bye, Varushka dragged Konstantin away from the small luncheon reception and practically shoved him into his rental car.

  “Go, go, go!” she barked, thumping on the dash.


  Konstantin laughed too hard to comply.

  “Sorry, Husband. I’ve always wanted to do that.” She grinned at him. He leaned over and kissed her, glad to finally be able to do it without all the chaperones. It went on longer than was appropriate for a public parking lot, but although Kon slid his hand up her dress, it was only to finally touch her still-flat stomach.

  Varushka was his, and the beginning of their family was growing inside her. The awe and reverence it inspired in him every time he thought about it stole his breath. Varushka and their baby filled a gap in his life he’d never realized was there. Not all men needed a woman and children to make their lives meaningful, but his life had gone from a path of meaningless entertainment to one that was deeply spiritual.

  When they finally pulled away from each other, Varushka wiped the corners of her eyes with the hem of her dress.

  “This was supposed to happen,” she said simply. “We didn’t plan it, but here we are. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Konstantin didn’t trust himself to speak. His throat felt thick, so he nodded, then busied himself with driving out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for a while. Their flight didn’t leave for hours, but after being kept apart so long, he was glad she’d dragged him away from the party early, even if only to be quiet and alone together.

  “I almost tore your suit off at the altar,” she admitted. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are? It isn’t fair to mortal women.”

  “You wouldn’t rather have Banner or Ambrose? They were wearing suits too.”

  She paused as though she was mulling it over. “I like them well enough, but I doubt either of them can do that thing you do with your tongue. And I’m sure they wouldn’t play vodyanoy with me or call me malish the way that makes my toes curl. I’ll have to settle for you.” She eyed him slyly. “Besides, Ambrose is too big. He’d probably flatten me if he laid on top of me.”

  Konstanin humphed at the girl, who only laughed again. “Is that why you married me? Because of the oral sex?”

  “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

  Sassy little brat. She was buzzing with adrenaline from the day.

  Without a word, Konstantin pulled off the main road and onto a deserted-looking side road. It was overgrown with trees and brush, which were perfect for what he had in mind.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, mock disapproval in her tone.

  She grabbed his free hand and kissed the palm, then rubbed it meekly against her cheek. Konstantin melted a little inside before moving completely into Dom space. It was shocking how fast that part of him responded to the smallest signs of submission from her. When he glanced over, the girl’s eyes had fallen shut, as though being under his hand was her favorite place in the world.

  “I just wanted to see what was down this road.”

  Varushka looked at him and grinned, her eyes shining. “Am I going to need my safeword while we’re on this detour, Master?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  We can’t believe we completed our third book already. It wasn’t that long ago that we started writing together yet it feels like we’ve been doing it forever. We have several people to thank for the inspiration and motivation to write Konstantin and Varushka’s story.

  Thank you to Lina Sacher, our usual beta reader, who didn’t get to read this book because we ran out of time, but she did help us with the Russian language, names, and culture. And for that, and her help on our other books, we’re thankful.

  Also, thanks to our agent, Nicole Resciniti, who encouraged us to write our dirty books for a publisher in the first place. Without her telling us how appealing our perversions were, we wouldn’t have ever risked trying to get a publishing contract.

  Our amazing editor, Kristine Swartz, also deserves thanks for giving us the much-needed feedback to take this book from good to the final version you’ve just read. It might actually be our favorite book in the series and we have her to thank for that as well as a great many other things she’s done for us throughout our journey.

  Huge love to our original street team from our other pen names, The Badass Brats, who are always there for us, every step of the way. They shout our books from the rooftops on release day, they comfort us through harsh reviews, they encourage us to write more, faster, and dirtier. Seriously, we wouldn’t be who we are today as writers without you ladies (and man).

  Keep reading for a special preview of the next book from Sparrow Beckett, STEALING HIS THUNDER, available Summer 2016 from InterMix.

  Energy buzzed through Addison as though lightning had invaded her bloodstream. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the dry Nevada night. Awkwardly, she held her body as close to the open window of the vehicle as she could without touching it. Her ass was dangerously close to bumping the car in the next spot over. She made a mental note to avoid crowded parking lots from now on, even if the ritzy apartment complex did have some of the finest engines she’d ever seen.

  She’d already disabled the alarm on the silver Lexus and now her fingers worked skillfully as she slid the blank key into her hacking device and waited for it to upload the car’s computer information.

  It was her first time using the new software—something she modeled after existing gadget thieves who actually had money could afford. It was hard to believe she’d gone from law-abiding undergrad student to criminal all because of a news segment on high-end car theft. The idea that it was now about hacking instead of hotwiring appealed to her inner nerd. Time to put her electrical engineering degree to the test. Busting her ass for her master’s degree was a waste of her time and potential when, in less than ten minutes, she could drive off in a hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar Lexus.

  So far, she hadn’t resold any of them to chop shops, or done anything that illegal. Ditching them on the side of the highway when she was done was enough to feed her adrenaline addiction. The whole thing was harmless and barely broke any laws. It was more of a prank, really. At least that was what she told herself as she went to sleep every night. She might have been slinking around in the dark, wearing black, stealing cars from rich people, but she had principles, damn it.

  Eventually, she’d travel down the gold-paved path of organized crime, but she had a plan to keep her Karma scale in balance. She’d donate a large percentage of her income to charity. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Like Robin fucking Hood.

  And then there was her grandparents—the real reason she’d started down this path.

  If she ever figured out how to sell what she stole, she could reunite them. The system sucked. What kind of world pulled apart a couple who’d been married for forty-five years just because one of them was too sick to live at home? Like her Gran was doing that much better?

  The sight of the small, frail woman trying to transfer her husband back and forth from bed to wheelchair had been heartbreaking. Even respite workers hadn’t been enough—not when he started fighting Gran’s help when no one else was around. The fact that he rarely remembered the woman he’d built his whole life around was bad enough. Separating them should have been illegal. There just wasn’t money to have them together at the nursing home, though.

  With desperation driving her, she’d been practicing hacking into cars, working her way up to the big leagues.

  Just as the device finished uploading the code into her blank key, her phone buzzed in her cargo pants pocket. Shit. Rolling her eyes at the disruption, she pulled it out so she could turn it off. The name “Mama Drama” with a text message lit up on the screen.

  Scrapbooking class starts in one hour, if you’re interested.

  She sighed.

  The woman had an obsession with decorating photos from every life moment with stickers and doilies and cheesy sayings like “a time to treasure” and “moments to remember.” After she’d finished all of Addison’s baby books, she went on to scrapbook family vacations, Addison’s graduation, and every major and minor holiday
. Didn’t think Labor Day could have a photo theme? Think again. Even their dog, Peanut, had his own scrapbook. And if her mom knew about her budding car theft addiction, she’d probably scrapbook the hell out of that too.

  She typed back, Busy. Thanks anyway.

  “Way to kill my high, Mom,” she grumbled. Not for the first time, she wondered if she was adopted. There was no way an adrenaline junkie like her could have come from two of the most boring people on the planet.

  The sound of heavy breathing echoed through the parking garage, but quickly she realized it was her own. She had to hurry. She’d been sitting here too long already.

  Excitement pulsed through her veins. The anticipation mixed with nerves and a sense of danger, collided in her belly, warming her insides and extending down between her legs. It was almost as good as an orgasm. In fact, one of her biggest fantasies was wild, hurried sex on a car she’d just stolen. God, she was such a perv.

  With the upload complete, and the car alarm disabled, she opened the door and slid onto the plush leather seat. Grinning madly, she sat back and ran her hands over the steering wheel. Time for a ride.

  The door creaked open wider and she turned just in time to see a fist flying toward her head.

  * * *

  Pain. So much pain. Like someone had bashed her head in with a brick.

  A voice murmured distantly as she tried to force her eyes open. Her head felt too foggy, her body too weak to go on alert, like she knew she should be. What happened?

  She finally managed to pry open her stubborn eyelids. Her temple throbbed in time with her heart.

  Oh yeah. Fist to the head.

  Had she been caught? Was this jail? She stared up at a ceiling, trying to process anything other than the ice pick in her skull. The distant voice dropped lower then disappeared. The white paint above her was smooth, not cracked and peeling. The air felt cool and smelled like leather.

  No. This wasn’t prison.