Taking Emmaline: Power of Vashchenko Book 1
Page 13
“Katya Vashchenko. I like it.”
“Moya lyubov’, you continue to amaze me.” I lean down to kiss her lips. Quickly, it turns heated, and I wish I could show Emmy exactly how much this precious gift means to me.
“You’ll tell her all about the woman she’s named for,” she instructs, just like a true Russian wife.
“One day, I’ll take you both to the homeland. Show you our roots.”
“I’d like that, Viktor.”
Removing the sleeping baby from her arms, I encourage Emmy to rest as I carry Katya to the rocking chair where I sing her a lullaby my mother sang to me as a small boy. One I’ve taught to Emmy, as well.
One heinous debt.
One captivating photograph.
And I have everything I’ve secretly wanted my entire life.
Epilogue
Viktor
Four Years Later.
For the first time in more than two decades, I am home. Moscow has changed in ways I never thought I would get to behold. Where there was once darkness and death, there is now laughter and life.
It’s not a perfect city, none are, but my home has welcomed me with open arms, and on this day, Emmy and I will get to christen our baby boy in the same church my parents wed and christened Danika in.
The impressive white and gold cathedral is beautiful in the evening light as the sun fades to dusk. The brick walkway to the front doors is a deep purple that signifies the resilience of the church and its people.
“Papa!” Katya, my sweet, darling, firecracker of a child, who wishes me to see an early grave, calls from the bridge railing. “Papa, you must see this!” Her excitement for life is what’s going to kill me before my time.
“Moya lyubov’, you have a wild child,” I groan at Emmy as I follow Katya to stand over the Yauza River.
“Tell me the story again, Papa?” Katya gazes up at me with a pouting lip and eyes just like her mother, making it so I cannot decline her request.
“Last time, moya.” Her grin is magnificent. “There once was a beautiful woman with eyes as blue as the sky who longed to be loved by the lowly butcher across the way from her mother’s bakery. When he finally took notice of her, he'd already fathered a strapping young man but knew the boy needed a caring mother.”
“That boy was you,” she murmurs when I pick her up in my arms.
“It was.” I kiss her forehead, recalling when my father married Katya. I never knew my own mother, so when she shrouded me in love as well, I was happy as could be. “One day, she nearly got hit by a car because she was too focused on the man. He, in turn, saved her life.” Katya sighs in my arms, already anticipating the kiss. She’s a romantic, just like her mother. “They fell to the ground, and finally, they could no longer hold back their desires, and your grandpapa stole her away with a kiss.”
“Mommy!” Emmy peeks around my shoulder, and like a dozen times before, I place a kiss on my wife’s lips after telling the little tale. “It’s soooooo romantic.” Katya’s precious head lays on my shoulder as we begin walking to the cathedral again.
* * *
Emmy
Nothing tears me up faster than when Viktor is being loving with our two children or whispers words of love to me in Russian. Which is often.
But today, observing him in his home country for the first time had me frequently tearing up. And now, as the priest praises our son, Alexei,—named after Viktor’s father—speaking their beautiful language, I’m lost to the beauty of it.
Alexei is just six months old and curious as can be, reaching for anything within grasp, and when he grips the priest's rosary beads and closes his eyes as he holds them to his heart, the room grows silent in awe.
“A special boy to know the power of faith,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more. Our little family comes from so much controversy and heartbreak that I believe Katya and Alexei bring a new light to their generation.
Viktor’s arms wrap around us as we recite the final blessing, and I can feel him growing lighter with each word. Viktor no longer holds the sins of the past on his shoulders as we grow together. Being home, sharing this monumental occasion in such a special place has given him the peace he has sought for his entire adult life.
“I love you, moya lyubov’.” Kissing my forehead, he nuzzles my ear. “Tonight, we make baby three.” I shiver as I picture his devilish grin.
Turning to face him, I cup his cheek as our children rest in our arms before standing up to whisper back, “You’re on, Viktor. But this time, it’s going to be another girl.”
His jaw grows slack as the service finishes and I walk with Alexei to the exit, knowing full well he’ll follow, and he’ll love the next child as much as the first two.
The End!
Thank you for reading Taking Emmaline. If you’re interested in finding out more about the how Viktor and Danika were introduce, you can start with King. Find a complete list of my books, along with series lists and reading orders on my website.
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About the Author
Hey, I'm Krystal. I write as USA Today Bestselling Author KL Donn. I'm stoked you've grabbed one of my books and I really hope you enjoyed the story!
A little about me:
Perpetual romantic.
Coffee addict.
I speak sarcasm more often than not.
Gimme an action flick over a romance. But a romance book over action. I'm weird like that.
Did I mention coffee addict?
Closet shopaholic.
Beach lover.
Coffee addict, it bears repeating. Again.
Husband obsessed. Mine that is, you can keep yours.
Mom of 6, well 7 if you count the husband. Oh and 2 of those are a cat & dog.
I love to connect with my readers so feel free to find me on any and all social media platforms you use! I can’t promise to be sane, or not swear a lot, but I’ll be extra happy to hear from you!
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Taking Emmaline
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Those Malcolm Boys
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Timeless Love
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In His Arms Series
Safe, In His Arms | Bullied, In His Arms | Coached, In His Arms
Naughty Tales
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The Protectors Series
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The Possessed Series
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The Hogan Brother’s
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Love Letters
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Stand Alone Books
Brantley’s Way | Mr. & Mrs | Imprisoned | London’s Calling
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