He rolls himself on his side, leaning on an elbow as he takes me in. “They didn't lay a hand on you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good.” It comes out soft. I trace a finger over his forearm, watching the way he shivers as goosebumps rise. He's so responsive. So easy to read. “You know I'm not a good man, do you? Hm?”
“I… I guess so.”
Curling a palm around his throat, I think of how he let me fuck his mouth earlier, how he let me hurt him just enough. Even now, Jonah doesn't pull back. He keeps his eyes lingering on mine, his body pliant to my touch. “You know I'll take back what's mine and kill those who stood in the way?”
He gives a jerk of his chin. “What will happen now?”
“Now we sleep.”
“Viktor—”
“Patience, krasavchik. Now I let Sergei think this will work. Let him think he knows me.” Leaning forward, I brace my elbows as tension pulls tight through my shoulders. “He wants me to slip up, but really he's the one who'll end with a dagger through his heart. Mark my words.”
This time Jonah visibly shudders. He must realize the same thing as I do.
“Now you know.” I hold his face. The weight of the secret is a collar around his neck, and I'm the one holding the chain. “And knowing has a cost.”
“I—I didn't mean to…” Jonah mumbles.
“I know you didn't.” Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I nudge him until the back of his head hits the pillow. “But that doesn't change the outcome.”
My mouth traces from his nose to his lips, and I take them. He gasps into me, the rest of his sounds lost when I pull him into a hard kiss. Fuck, he's precious. Soft in my hands, but not weak. He has shown me more care than most people ever have, unless I pay them. That shouldn't turn me on, but it does.
I’m addicted to the way he looks at me without seeing a monster. It’s a clean, unblemished kind of innocence that Sergei hasn't had the chance to rot yet. I’ll keep it that way, because owning something this pure is the only way I'll remember what it feels like to have power that isn't bought with blood.
It drives me feral with a need to claim and protect. I want to burn the world down just to keep him in the embers. “Come on now, krasavchik. Sleep.”
The first thing I register is Jonah's body against mine. He's pressed close, one leg thrown over my thigh, his arm laid across my stomach. His cheek rests on my chest. His breath is warm against my skin.
I don't move. Light from the window reaches the ceiling. I watch it for a moment before I look back down at him. Someone gave me back my dagger. That means someone here, in this house I used to call mine, is on my side.
In the basement, Sergei openly made a fool of me. He smiled at men who were Father's allies while he had me restrained. Like a goddamn animal. He talked like this was business, like pain was just a step in a process. I remember the weight of him watching. I remember the moment he thought I was finished. I curl my fingers once, feeling the shape of the hilt in my palm again. Sergei's making a mistake. He assumes I'll crack at some point. I won't.
I don't need to rush it. I just need time and the right moment to remind him whose throne he's sitting on.
Jonah's fingers twitch against my ribs. I slide my palm to the back of his neck and feel his warm skin, his hair, and the rhythm of his pulse. He melts into it instinctively, shifting even closer. Dangerous. All of this. But I don't pull away.
Jonah stirs slowly, blinking up at me. “Morning.”
“Hi.”
He gives me a small smile. “I don't know why, but I thought you'd have left last night after everything that happened. Escaped through the windows and jumped the fence.”
“Trust me, I know those gardens. We used to play in them as kids. They were guarded even then. Sergei will've doubled it by now.”
Jonah looks around him. “I can't imagine what it's like to grow up in a place like this.”
“Busy. Father used to hold large meetings. There's lots of money. Lots of drugs. There are many secrets.” I grin when Jonah looks up at me with his big, blue eyes. He's the sexiest thing I've ever had in my bed, and the most fragile.
He breathes it instead of saying it. “Mafia.”
“Such a dirty word, krasavchik.” But he's got me grinning. Mafia is such an underrated term. It doesn't include the danger, or the power that comes with it. I better not tell him that.
Trailing a finger over his face, I catch a strand of blond hair and curl it around my finger. Moving him how I want him, I slowly rock our hips together. Jonah shakes his head, but I don't miss how his face flushes.
