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That painkiller is becoming more necessary by the minute.
“Here,” Nikolai says, pulling open a drawer in his desk. He takes out a small black box and hands it to me. “You can give this to her.”
Confused, I open it—and gape at the diamond-studded bracelet inside.
What the hell?
My gaze jumps to his face. “What do you mean, give it to her?”
“It can be your gift,” Nikolai says matter-of-factly. “I’ll give her another piece of jewelry.”
Is he serious?
“Of course it can’t be my gift,” I say when I’ve recovered my powers of speech. “You got it for her, not me. I can’t afford a single stone in that bracelet, and Alina knows that.”
He shrugs. “So what? She’ll enjoy it regardless.”
Oh my God. I take a breath and count to three. “No, she won’t. Because I’m going to give her something else—something that’s actually from me.”
“Such as?”
“Flowers. I’d like to put together a bouquet for her. I saw some really pretty ones blooming not far from here.”
His eyebrows draw together again. “There’s no way you’re going for a hike with that ankle.”
“It’s not far. I can make it. Especially if you come with me and help.”
A peculiar gleam appears in his tiger eyes. “You want me to take you flower-picking?”
Now that he’s said it, I realize how ridiculous it sounds—and how big of an ask it is. What the fuck was I thinking? He’s not my boyfriend; he’s my captor, a powerful, dangerous man who has far more important—
“All right,” he says before I can backpedal. “Give me a minute to finish up here, and we’ll go.”
13
Nikolai
Ignoring Chloe’s claims that she can walk “just fine,” I carry her to her room and return to finish the message I was writing, instructing Valery’s newest arrival on how and where I want the DNA sample collected. It’s not a man my brother is sending for this job, but a woman—which is even better.
It opens up some interesting possibilities in regard to getting close to Bransford.
I then answer a few more urgent messages and go get Chloe for our flower-gathering expedition.
My heart pounds with anticipation as I approach her room. Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I feel encouraged that she’s actively sought me out, that she wants to spend time with me, even if it’s under this bullshit pretext.
My strategy of being nothing more than her patient, platonic caretaker is working. Slowly but surely, my zaychik is losing her fear of me, letting down her shields. And that’s good—because I don’t know how much longer I can remain patient.
The better she feels, the harder it is to control the beast inside me, to stop myself from claiming her as my instincts demand.
She’s watching the news as I walk into her room. Seeing me, she powers off the TV and stands up, a radiant smile on her face. “I’m ready.”
Something deep inside my chest simultaneously expands and contracts. “Let’s go get those flowers, then.”
I let her walk toward me on her own, just to see how well her ankle is healing. As soon as she reaches me, though, I pick her up, once again ignoring her objections. I can’t watch her limp—it hurts me too much—so the only way this hike is happening is with her in my arms.
“You’re not seriously planning to carry me all the way there,” she says as we exit the house.
I smile down at her. “Why not, zaychik?”
I love holding her, feeling her pressed against me. Until her ankle is healed, I intend to carry her around as much as possible—and maybe afterward as well.
“For starters, it’s at least half a mile to the spot I have in mind,” she says with utmost seriousness, as if half a mile is any sort of real distance. “If you just lend me your elbow, I could walk there at a slow pace.”
“That’s not happening.”
“But I’m heavy. There’s no way—”
“You’re kidding, right?” I grin into her small, indignant face. “Zaychik, I’ve carried backpacks heavier than you for a day straight.”
She blinks. “You mean… when you were in the army?”
“And now. Pavel and I frequently train with the guards to keep fit.”
“Uh-huh. But still—”
“How about this? I promise I’ll let you walk if I get tired.” Or rather, if I drop dead. That’s the only way she’s hiking through these woods on that ankle of hers.
She huffs. “Fine. Be all macho, see if I care when your arms fall off. The flowers are that way.” She points to a small dirt path leading into the woods to the east of us, then lays her head on my shoulder, as if planning to take a nap.
I laugh and head down the path she indicated, being careful to protect her from low-hanging branches and shrubs. I can’t remember the last time I felt so light, both physically and mentally. Instead of tiring me, her slight weight in my arms buoys me, the feel of her body against mine evoking not only the usual carnal hunger but also something warm and pure… something almost like joy.
