He says nothing, and I study his profile: sharp and statue-perfect. The wind tousles his dark curls. Snow dusts the shoulders of his jacket. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I reach for him, touching gloved fingers to his jaw. He looks at me, dark eyes flashing.
“I will do anything,” I whisper, breath pluming from my lips. “I will kill my father myself if that is what you wish. You don’t have to believe my children are yours to protect them. To save them. Do you, Max?”
He looks over my shoulder, at the twin hulking forms of Yvan and Gregor by the door. A subtle nod sends them both inside, a flash of golden light on the snow before the return of the dark.
“You can’t talk to me like this,” he murmurs, taking my hand from his face. “You can’t touch me like that. Not in front of them.”
“I’m not playing, Maxim.” I press my lips together. “This isn’t a game anymore.”
He studies me, a furrow between his brows.
“What do I have to do,” I whisper, “for you to believe me?”
“Kiss me.”
My breath catches. “Maxim…”
He turns so he’s facing me, snow whirling around him. “Kiss me like you would if we didn’t know each other. Like none of this is happening. Like we’re the only two people in the world.”
My heart is thundering—why?My weakness for him…it’s attraction. That’s it. That’s all there’s ever been between us.
Isn’t it?
He gazes down at me, so lovely, a shadow in the night, and I remember the way he was so long ago, when we truly didn’t know each other, when we really did feel like the only people in the world. That night, we disappeared into each other. That night, we made our future, unknowingly: two children that would change our story forever.
Love.
The word is steel between my ribs. I take a step back, gutted. No.No.This isn’t how this was supposed to go—I don’t care about Maxim. This was all a game, the groundwork to escape his clutches and return to the life I had before. The flirting, the trust, the sex…it was all a lie. A part I was playing.
The Daughter of the Snake.
Is that who I am at all?
Or in the end, am I this girl: the one who’s open, and bold, who sleeps with beautiful men on a whim and never forgets them and falls back in love with them years later?
Is that even possible?
“Don’t,” Maxim warns. His eyes narrow. “Don’t look at me like that.”
I don’t know what to say. I look up at him, unable to catch my breath. Does he understand that my world is falling apart around me right now? That everything I was sure I knew is now a lie?
One I’ve been telling myself?
“Fuck,” I whisper, touching gloved fingertips to my lips.
I realize why his expression is so tortured—he does understand. My feelings for him are real.
And our world just got a lot more complicated.
He brushes my hand from my face and kisses me, wrapping me in his arms. I pull him to me, letting instinct take over. His body is taut and powerful beneath my exploring hands, heat pouring off of him, despite the snowy night. He slides his hands into my hair, bends me back in his arms, tongue parting my lips and stroking my own. I moan softly, clutching him to me, utterly surrendering.
Am I falling in love with him? My enemy? My captor?
I can almost taste the words on my lips. I can almost hear myself speaking them. Then a low rumble catches my attention, pulling me from our stolen moment. Headlights strobe the endless snow, and a pair of cars come juddering over the black, cracked road.
The others?Maxim and I pull apart.Could they be here so soon?
My question is answered instantly. Not by words.
