Page 35 of Essence of Fear

Still.

Was it embarrassment?

Shame?

Or something else entirely?

Had that fear of hers come back to the forefront of her mind, and reminded her of exactly what she had been doing with him?

Pav was fine to let this woman do whatever she needed to do to keep herself in check. He knew that all too well. He understood what it was like to put the mask on for those who were watching to see something that made them more comfortable.

Yes, he understood.

He didn’t like it, though.

Not with her.

“Viktoria,” he said quietly.

Her next step froze before she could climb the stairs. He didn’t miss the way her shoulders tensed at his call of her name, either, or the way a shiver crawled over her spine again. God. He’d love to get his hands on her when she was wearing nothing but skin and fighting that fear. There was something enthralling about that—he was a stupid moth dancing far too close to her flickering flame.

“What?” she whispered.

Her back stayed facing him.

He didn’t mind.

Pav didn’t actually know what he wanted to say to her. It was more like he just wanted two more seconds with her. Another moment to breathe her in and drink every drop that she was willing to give him.

“Make sure someone gets you home safely. And sleep well.”

She let out a quiet laugh. One he didn’t understand, but it still felt loaded. She didn’t reply before she climbed the rest of the steps and headed into the house. He gave it twenty seconds, more than long enough for her to rejoin the party without it looking like he was following behind, and then he went inside, too.

He assumed she would find her family in the crowd and join them for the remainder of the party. Instead, he noticed her standing alone in the entryway of the living room, away from the guests. She said nothing to him. He said nothing to her as he passed.

Pav couldn’t help but reach out to touch her as he headed for the hallway that would lead to the front door. It was nothing big, really, just the brush of his fingertips along the soft skin of her inner wrist.

But it was enough.

Enough to make her relax. Enough to make her shiver again. Enough to drive him crazy.

Pav was not done.

Not with her.

He tended to like broken things. She was certainly that.

And more …

• • •

Pav hadn’t known what the issue was that needed their immediate attention at the Compound. For the entire drive, Konstantin drove in silence. Pav wasn’t the type to talk anyway, so he hadn’t bothered to press the man for details. Not that Konstantin owed him anything, if he had tried to ask.

But now, as he stood in front of the empty cell that had once housed a man for almost two years, Pav was beginning to think Konstantin was concerned over more than just the fact that one of the Boykov prisoners had escaped.

“He killed the man watching the Compound,” Konstantin said from behind Pav.

Pav didn’t turn away from the cell. His gaze swept the shackles at the other end of the cell—this was one of the few rooms beneath the Compound that actually had a door. He’d never known the name of the man housed in this particular cell, but the man refused to be broken. He was beaten more often than the rest, and for the first couple of months after he had been brought in, Pav remembered specifically that Kolya Boykov had made a few trips down to visit the man.