Page 158 of Nemesis

Alex jumps into action, pulling out the headcounts of our soldiers. Nik nods his head, still staring at the pen stroke on the blueprint. Even Ben withholds his idiotic refutes.

But I can’t move.

All I can do is pull her tighter against my body and try to breathe through my panic.

After twenty-four hours of tense planning, we’ve finally managed to work out a strategy with half a chance at succeeding. Vasiliy is going to be the one to take Mom’s passage to rescue Kirill. He practically demanded the role, saying the only way he’d allow me to walk into that house alone is if he gets to be the first to come after me.

I know he isn’t happy with me. Even now, as we walk up the steps to our old room, I can feel his quiet ire. He doesn’t want me to put myself in danger, but it’s the only way we’ll pull this off. I need our plan to work. Dad is already lost. I can’t live in a reality without Kirill as well.

When our room door clicks shut, I turn.

“I need you not to be mad at me for this.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he says with a sigh. “I’m mad at the situation. And I’m straight up pissed with all of those fuckers downstairs.”

“Why is that?”

“Because they’re all fine with using you!”

“Vas—”

“It’s unacceptable. They have no respect for what you’ve been through. No appreciation for what you’ve brought them.”

I step closer, brushing my hand down the side of his neck. “They’re grieving, Vasiliy.”

“And so are you!” His hands frame either side of my cheeks. “You have lost just as much, if not more, and you’re forced to swallow your grief as well as their dissent⁠—”

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the corner of his. “You know, you’re the reason I’m capable of shouldering it all. I’m stealing your strength in your sleep. In fact, every time you find some reason to touch me, I’m stealing the dregs of your resolve just to remain upright and functioning.”

His grip on the back of my neck pulls me closer, and he kisses a line from my chin down to my collarbone.

“You can have every last drop. I am your pawn.”

“No.” With desperate movements, my top peels off below his searching hands. “You are my king.”

His laugh tickles between the valley of my breasts, and he soothes the tingle with a reverent kiss. “I’m a queen at best.”

“And why is that?”

Suddenly, I’m lifted into the air. My legs wrap around his hips. His lips find the sensitive skin below my ear.

“Because at some point in the game, there comes a time when you must sacrifice the queen to protect the sanctity of the king.” He pulls back, and the look in his deep blue eyes steals my next breath. “You are my king, moya zlaya. I would sacrifice myself a thousand times over to keep you safe.”

Something snaps in my chest at those maddening words. My lips crash against his. He meets my feverish kiss head-on, matching every stroke of my tongue with the same level of need.

“I’ve known you were mine since you woke me in that cage with my belt wrapped around my neck,” he says, rocking me against his hardness in the perfect rhythm. My thighs are already sticky from the friction. “Or, actually,” he counters, walking us toward the bed. “Maybe it was the first sight I caught of you dancing in the very back of the stage.”

He tosses me onto the mattress, and I’ve barely bounced once before he’s on me again, tugging down the waist of my pants with urgency. “Or maybe it was even earlier. Maybe I was always supposed to go to New York⁠—”

“You are a realist,” I say with a laugh, clawing at his shirt. I need it off. I need his hot skin below my palms. “You don’t believe in fate.”

He grins, helping me remove it. “I’m not a realist anymore. I’m an addict.”

When my pants are finally off, he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of the bed and wraps his inked hands around my thighs. All it takes is one tug for him to pull me to the end of the mattress and thread my legs around his head.

“Tell me you love me.”

With his warm breath on my inner thigh and his hands spreading me wide, there are too many sensations to process his question right away. It’s only when I feel the shock of his punishing nip on my hip that I remember to answer.