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“I’m crushing you,” he says, kissing my neck.
Too soon, the cocoon in which I’m hiding lifts. And there’s no transformation or butterfly, only stark, empty reality.
He pushes up, keeping his weight on his arms. “Take a deep breath.” He pulls out when my lungs expand, leaving an after-burn, but the pain is grounding. “Stay.” A command he loves giving.
He goes into the bathroom and comes back with a wet washcloth. After cleaning the spillage between my legs, he turns me over. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head.
“Painkiller?”
“I’m good.”
He dumps the washcloth on the floor and stretches out beside me, spooning me from behind. “Sleep.”
“I should have a shower.”
“Tomorrow. I like the idea of you sleeping with my cum in your ass.”
I swat his arm that lies snugly around my waist. “You’re so filthy.”
“I’ve been accused of worse.”
“I thought you’re not telling me when to sleep any longer.”
He nips my earlobe and nuzzles my temple. His lips stretch into a smile against my skin. “This time, you’ll want to obey.”
“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?”
“Because tomorrow, I’m taking you to see your grandmother.”
29
Yan
Mina is in love with me.
I try to wrap my mind around it on the way to Budapest. It’s not what I expected, and so much more than I could’ve hoped for. How can anyone love me, let alone someone as guarded as Mina? At the same time, the attraction makes sense. We’re so much alike. We’ve both seen the uglier side of life, and we can be ruthless. Yet we’re both loyal as hell to the family we love. Not to mention, we both need a little more spice in our lives than most people.
Still, we’re a world apart. For all the numbing trauma of her past, she feels more, cares more for people than I do. I can see it in the way she interacts with my brother, and even Anton, to some extent. Her hard shell is just that, a shell. Inside, she’s vulnerable, fragile. Wounded. And there’s a soft side to her, a nurturing and caring part that draws me like a prickly thorn to a lamb’s wool.
Even now, as I sit opposite her in the Cessna Anton is piloting, my hand is resting on her knee. The hold may seem casual to an onlooker, but it’s a possessive touch, a claiming touch. Now that I know how she feels, I’m more reluctant than ever to let her out of my sight. I’m not blind to how wrong that is. Keeping her against her will is the most fucked-up thing I’ve done. But I can’t let her go. Setting her free would be like chopping out a part of me. She’s gotten way deeper than under my skin, and I won’t be the same without her.
No, there’s no other option. She has to stay. I’m still keeping her forever.
The scale of my feelings has tipped, though. Before, I wanted to own her life and make her pay for her betrayal. Now, a calm acceptance invades my mind. The pressing need for vengeance has shifted to a pressing need to please. To make her happy. Which is why we’re on our way to see her grandmother a day before we carry out the hit on Dimitrov. I want to give her everything I can to make up for the love she offers despite the freedom she’ll never have.
She’s tense, my little soldier. Her body is rigid and her face paler than usual. Disregarding Anton’s weight-distribution-impact-on-aerodynamics theory that awarded me the seat facing her, I shift onto the one next to her. I take one of her hands that’s clamped between her knees and brush my lips over her knuckles before intertwining our fingers. I wish I could tell her I love her, but I don’t know what love means. The feeling I harbor for Ilya is an ingrained duty to protect and take care of him. It’s part of my programming. What I feel for Mina is new, hard to define. I only know I can’t bear the thought of being apart from her or, God forbid, any harm coming to her.
“Nervous?” I whisper against her ear, sneaking in a kiss. She smells like lemon and honeysuckle. Mouthwateringly delicious.
“What do you think?” she snaps.
“I thought you’d be happy to see your grandmother.”
“I’m not happy about you coming along.”
“Don’t fret, princess.” I smile. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Snorting, she turns her face toward the window as if I’m not worthy of her sight, which I’m not.
“Not long now.” I put her hand on my thigh and massage the knots in her shoulder.
She relaxes marginally, leaning a little toward me. The submission is small, a tiny drop in a vast ocean, but my heart warms as if I’ve put a blowtorch to it.
A few minutes later, Anton announces our descent. We touch down at the private airport where the same driver from a few nights ago waits.
