Jake bit back that laugh when I swung a knee.
“You’re smug,” I retorted, knee jamming against his … thigh. An explosive exhale cut through the air.
I ducked under his arm, swiped at his leg. He laughed—low, dark—and shoved my chest.
The ground disappeared under my feet, slick grass sliding me off balance.
“Simona?” Jake snapped. His body slammed against mine as he grabbed my hand. We slid down the slick hillside and rolled in a blur of dirt and grass until the earth leveled out.
Jake landed half on top of me, solid and warm. My heart hammered against his chest. His hand cradled the back of my head.
Lips hovered dangerously close to mine, and his breath brushed my cheek. “You good?” Jake whispered.
I nodded, heat rushing to my face.You like bad men, Sima. That’s how you’ve worked yourself up to Rurik.“Get off me, Jake.”
“Gladly.” He rolled away. We scrambled up, brushing off mud and grass, not daring to meet each other’s eyes.
I walked closer to the still, dark lake and along the mouth of the dock.
“Simona, wait.” Jake followed.
Boards creaked under his boots. My breath caught as he neared. My lips ached for a kiss. Instead, he pulled out his phone.
Jake flicked on the flashlight, and my stomach dropped. A bullet lodged deep into the post. More holes pocked the wood. The cold stabbed through me as I dove headfirst into Loch Ness. The world shrieked in silence—freezing black swallowing me whole.
Not thinking, I tried to scream her name and swallowed muddy liquid.You can’t die, moya kuzyan, moya sestra, moya sem’ya.
I mentally chanted those words—my cousin,my sister,my family—until Jake dragged me to the surface. We shivered, smoke curling from our flesh.
He held me tight. “We gotta call my clan, Simona. We gotta tell them.”
Despite the intense cold that threatened to overcome me, I stuttered, “We … we can’t.”
“Why not?” Voice hardened, Jake trapped me between his legs, arms locked around me. Instead of forcing the truth out, his breath warmed my neck.
“Because …” My teeth chattered. “She can’t be dead! Jake, you must understand. The Mikhailovs—if Natasha’s dead—they’ll come afterus. We are bound. Contracted. Her to Edik. Me to Rurik.” My voice broke at his name. “I’d rather die than fulfill my obligation … but they-they’d resuscitate me! They’d bring me back just to make me suffer.”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“At least she has the weak one,” I said, staring at the bullet holes gouged into the dock post. “She just has to be alive … for more reasons than being my cousin … my best friend.”
Jake glanced over the black water, jaw twitching.
“Because if she’s not,” I muttered, “then we’re already dead. Every … Resnov.”
51
NATASHA
My dreams had never been sosweet.
Even before my eyes fluttered open, last night wrapped me in a warm embrace. The good. The hallelujah-thank-you-Jesus good. My man—no, my husband—loved me for me. Lachlan had shown me the intimacy that uplifted, elevated, nurtured, cherished, and adored.Dang, Natasha, how many synonyms do you wanna throw in here?I’d list them all day.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, the good, the stars in the sky, and the ugly.
I glimpsed that before even opening my eyes because a person didn’t grow without battle wounds. I’d grown stronger because of Lorenzo’s actions. And last night, I’d seen Lachlan in a new light. He grew too—his fingers intertwined with mine as we lay in bed.
And before dawn claimed the night, with no pillows beneath our heads, he’d slid his arm underneath mine, granting me a comfortable rest. A small act, and I melted into the strength and safety of him.
