When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. The wind is whipping my hair everywhere, and I’m hyper-aware of every little thing—his heat, the smell of his jacket, the way his fingers feel on my skin.
“You’re braver than I thought,” he says quietly. “Stronger.”
I laugh, half because it’s true and half because it feels ridiculous to be complimented right now. “You think you know me?” I ask, and the words come out angrier than I meant.
“No,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “But I want to.”
I take a shaky breath. The cliff, the dark, the city below, everything—it’s dizzying.
He tilts his head, voice soft, almost too quiet. “You can trust me, Aurelia. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not now. Not ever.”
Chapter 31
Aurelia
Present
Adrian reacts first. The second Nikolai steps into the room, he retreats, like instinct’s warning him not to stand too close, backing away from me and giving Nikolai better access to the room, and to me.
And Nikolai—he takes the space. All of it. Towering over me, closer than I was prepared for. No cage between us. No distance I can pretend is safe.
He’s in the same dark suit I spotted from the doorway nearly two days ago, but the tie is gone and his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar—just enough to strip away the businessman façade and reveal the predator beneath.
He doesn’t speak, just moves until there’s less than two inches between us. His breath is even,controlled, and I wish I could say the same about mine.
I lock my spine, wrapping my hands around the posts to keep my body from bending, refusing to lean back even though every cell in my body screams for distance.
I’m familiar with the Orlov family, how they raise their kin to believe women are possessions, trophies, weapons to be usedand discarded. Nikolai was born in that mold. Trained to see me as weak. To break me until I prove him right.
Not fucking happening.
With his body nearly touching mine, he raises a tentative hand, fingers grazing my temple and brushing through my hair before he gently tucks a strand behind my ear.
I force myself not to flinch. Not to give him the satisfaction. But my heart betrays me, slamming against my ribs, trying to claw its way out.
Amber. Pine. Whisky. That’s how he smells—danger wearing cologne. It wraps around me, worms its way under my skin, and suddenly I hate that my body can’t tell the difference between fear and something hungrier.
My body aches for comfort, and I think of Elijah—God, I miss him, hate him, want to erase him—but that’s not the point.
The point is that right now, standing shackled to a couple of posts, there’s a heat pooling between my thighs that I need him to satisfy, because I would have to be dead or unconscious to invitethismonster to do it. A man who will likely be responsible for my death.
My teeth clench hard enough to ache. I won’t give in.
He wants submission. He won’t get it.
He continues to stare into my soul, hand on my cheek, body almost flush against mine. So I lift my chin and say, “You done?” keeping my voice steady despite the storm brewing within.
The corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smile. He leans in, so close I feel the vibration of his voice before I hear it.
“Hi.”
Low. Rough. Russian silk dragged over gravel.
For a second, I forget how to breathe. I’m sure he could have spoken to me while I was out cold, could have touched me—Adrian hinted enough—but hearing it directed at me, feeling his touch while I’m awake, is different.
My jaw clicks, annoyed that he ignored my jab from seconds ago. But the moment our eyes meet, the anger melts into something else entirely.
I hadn’t looked at his eyes. Not since they brought me here.
