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I’m staring up at the same ceiling I’ve been staring at for two days when I hear someone at the door. I pull the comforter up to my neck just as the door opens and Yakov walks in.
For a second, I’m stunned.
Two days without him has weakened my defenses. All I’ve thought about is how pissed I am at him for locking me up, but now, all I can do is take him in.
It’s like the night I first saw him. Soft moonlight and shadows paint the planes of his face and his dark hair is effortlessly tousled. He’s a dark dream standing in front of me.
“The door is unlocked. If you can stop trying to kill yourself, it will stay that way,” he explains in a melancholy rumble.
Nope, not a dream. In my dream, he’d already be naked.
“Weird apology, but thanks.”
His eyes narrow. “It’s not an apology. It’s a mercy.”
“Did you and your brother coordinate your speeches? He said something similar. Apparently, I should thank you for locking me up. It means you really care.” My hands are shaking. Just having him close is unraveling my good sense. “Did you send your brother in to butter me up?”
“I don’t need any help with that.”
My face flames and I’m glad it’s dark in here. “Then what? You sent in a spy to make sure I was calm?”
“I didn’t send him in. He came on his own. I just didn’t stop him.”
He could have, though. The implication is tucked away under his words. Nikandr, like everyone else in Yakov’s life, follows his lead. He commands; they go.
“Do you ever get tired of ordering everyone around?” I ask.
“Only when people refuse to listen.” He drags a hand through his hair. I can tell it isn’t the first time he’s done it tonight. “I came in here to make sure you were ready to behave.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be a good little prisoner if that’s what you’re asking.”
Before the words are even out of my mouth, Yakov is across the room. The comforter falls around my waist and he’s kneeling on the bed in front of me. There isn’t a single place where we touch, but I feel him everywhere. Our nearness is like an electrical charge in the air. My entire body tingles.
“I’m doing all of this for your own good,” he growls. “I’m trying to make sure you keep breathing, and all you want to do is bitch at me about how I’m doing it. Why?”
The raw truth bursts out of me before I can stop myself.
“I told you I loved you and you locked me up and threw away the key! I’m pissed, Yakov.” My chest is rising and falling fast. I can’t catch my breath. “I’m mad at you. And I missed you. And I don’t know who I hate more: you or myself.”
I’m breathing heavily, but Yakov is immovable. Unreadable.
My entire self—body and soul—is laid bare in front of him.
And he might as well be a statue.
His eyes drift from mine and slip down to my chest. It’s only a second, but it’s long enough for me to see the flash of desire there. Then he jerks his gaze away. “I need to know if you’re going to behave, Luna.”
That’s all he cares about. No confession. No sign that he feels the same way.
He needs obedience. Another person to follow his orders and not cause waves.
My heart cracks, but I force myself to nod. “Yes.”
He drags a hand through his hair again and heads for the door. “You can sleep wherever you want. Here… Somewhere else… Wherever.”
I pull the blanket up to my shoulders again. “Okay.”
He pauses in the doorway. He glances back, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “But if you go behind my back again, you’ll beg for me to lock you in this room.”
