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She gives me a shove that does absolutely nothing to move me. “Show me where you stood.”
I shift into place, to the right of the altar, the toe of my shoe resting along the edge of the marble leg just like it did then. The awe fills me once again at being trusted with something so precious, so vulnerable.
I struggle to clear my thick throat. “You looking to recreate a photo or something, Pcholka?”
“Or something…” she trails off. The gleam in her eyes promises something I’m definitely not going to like.
Trailing her fingers along the fabric, she works her way toward me. When she reaches my side, she plants her palms on the altar and lifts herself onto the surface. Before I can do much more than suck in a gulp of air, she’s sliding before me, right between my legs.
“So you held me, right about here.”
The skirt of her dress settles barely past her hips, revealing her smooth thighs. There on the outside of her right leg, bruises from my fingertips from the night before.
The buzzing in my head grows and I can’t tear my gaze from the spot where I’ve marked her.
I can’t touch her.
Can’t be touching her right now.
Not with the raw replay in my head. “Cut it out.”
I take a step back, and another, leaving her alone on the altar under the massive cross suspended from the arched ceilings.
My sins are too many to count, but this was the one fucking thing I had that I could cling to. The good deed I could take with me in death to find some sort of forgiveness.
She raises her palms in surrender, the move so unlike her I flinch at the sight. “I’m running out of time, Kostya.”
“You’ll be with your brother. You’ll be fine.”
“Not if Vlad manages to get to me and if he does, I’ll wish for the dark again.” She gulps and the color drains from her face. “Because he’s promised me to Ivan Petrov.”
It’s as though the confession was meant for this place. This very spot where I promised to do anything to protect her. Where we’re both closest to God, and the power of his protection.
Here, in this place, eighteen years ago—my vow changed me. And today, under the threat of a road chosen for her, I’m changing once again.
Cold dread slithers through me and I can do nothing but stare at her. He would never turn her over to a Petrov. His own sister—he couldn’t. But even as I tell myself he wouldn’t, I see the truth in her eyes. She’s not lying. She’s been promised to Petrov and that means Vlad will stop at nothing to get to her.
“Have you seen what they do to their women? They carve them into ugly things for breeding.” Her chin wobbles. “Every scar along their cheek representing each time they tried to run away.”
At the fear in her eyes, something in me begins to crumble. There’s no room for error because for her, the consequences are dire.
“Vlad stopped trying to break me the minute he made the deal. He needs me to hold onto what fire is left in me. Because the sick bastard wants to count over time how many times I run by the gaping wounds they dig into my face.”
Molten-hot rage pours through me. Images cascade through my mind of them raping her, beating her, cutting her open, and leaving her to suffer.
I can’t speak. I can’t take another step away from her.
Because now I know why this is so important to her. Time is running short. All we have is right here, right now, before our world closes in on us.
“Some of them only have one. They learn that lesson the first time. Some of them have four or five because their fight or flight instincts tell them they can still get out. So, they keep trying. Every act of survival is defiance to them so they carve chunks of flesh from their faces that disfigure them with every mark. That could be me, Kostya. You know I’ll fight. I won’t be able to help myself. It’s been your greatest lesson. And I’ll pay.”
The sunset filters through the stained glass pooling behind her, so different than the day of her baptism. Like her innocence of that day is dying here, under the weight of an uncertain future, or by my hand.
How do I even make that choice?
“With you, I’m not losing something, I’m giving it willingly.” One tear slides down her cheek born of anger, hopelessness, frustration—I don’t know, but I can’t tear my gaze away.
“Because I love you.” Her voice breaks on her declaration of love and I break with it.
