“Z? Semyon and Elena are safe now. Ford is driving them to Maine this afternoon. Kolya…donatedtwenty thousand dollars to get them started, and we found them an in-patient recovery program that will let them stay together. New identities, jobs waiting for them when they get out…” I turn the green glass over in my hand, tracing the edges with my index finger. “I wish you could have met Ryker. You’d like him. Or…maybe he’d drive you crazy. But…I love him, so you’d find a way to get along.” The image of the two of them facing off almost brings a smile to my face. “I…won’t be back here again. Not in this room. So, come find me in Seattle, okay? I love you, kid. Always and forever.” Heading out to the living room, I stop with my hand on the door knob.
“I promise.”
* * *
One week later
Ryker
Wren leans back against me as we stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows in my—our—apartment. Pixel snores in the corner, a princess on the world’s plushest dog bed. West and Cam’s wedding was a quiet, small affair, thank God, and as we walked the few blocks home, Wren got me to admit it wasn’t the torture I’d anticipated.
“What are you thinking, little bird?” Scoring my teeth along the shell of her ear, I relish the little shiver that runs through her.
“Ten days ago, you stood in front of me, naked, and I told you I loved you for the first time.”
“I remember.” Every second of that night is burned into my brain. As she lay under the sleeping bags, sated and peaceful, I cataloged every word. Every feeling. Every emotion. Joy. Fear. Pride. Shame.
Turning to me, Wren slides her hands around my neck. “You said the words almost forty-eight hours before I did. How did you know?”
I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to bed.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Not…exactly.” After I slide the green straps off her shoulders and her dress pools on the floor, I nudge her down onto the mattress, then kneel between her thighs. “Before I met you, I woke up every night screaming. Every fucking night for six years.”
Wren unbuttons my black dress shirt, exposing the scars across my chest.
“I tried therapy. Sleeping pills. Alcohol. Nothing quieted my demons. And…I couldn’t figure out why. Until you.” I shrug out of the shirt, then take her hand and press her fingers to the scar below my left eye. “You asked me what happened. Back in Boston. That night…the demons didn’t come.”
“You…loved me before we went to Russia?” Her voice rises a few notes, and I chuckle.
“No, baby. Not then.” I let her undo my belt, then step out of my pants and briefs. “Can I hold you?”
When we’re nestled together, skin-to-skin, her nipples pressed to my chest and our legs entwined, I run my fingers through the soft curls of her hair. “I never wanted to talk to anyone. Even West and Inara…if it wasn’t about the mission, I rarely said two words to them. But you… Every time you asked me a question, Iwantedto answer. I needed to answer. Needed you to know what I was thinking. Feeling. I couldn’t explain why. Pissed me off.”
Now it’s her turn to laugh. “I could tell.”
“When you were taken, I knew. That night. West called me on it, and I tried to deny it, but…I couldn’t.” My eyes burn, and all I can see is Wren. Bruised. Bleeding. Afraid.
Warm fingers tighten on my hip. Over one of my many scars. “I’mhere, Ry.”
I can’t tell her everything yet. If I could, I’d tell her being with her makes me feel like I matter. Like I’m more than my scars. My damage. My broken body and shattered mind.
I’d tell her how I hadn’t smiled in months. Hadn’t laughed—real laughter—in years.
Most of all, I’d tell her how she saved me.
“Kiss me, baby.”
Her lips are warm, soft, and she tastes like rain. And tonight, a hint of wedding cake. Of sherry. And of need. I pinch her nipple, and she arches into my touch.
I skim my hand over her breast, down her stomach, all the way to her mound. Sliding a finger between her slick folds, I swallow her moan, tangling our tongues in a dance I never wanted to learn, but now can’t live without.
“Ry,” she whimpers. “More.”
I trail kisses over every curve, adding a second finger when her eyelids start to flutter. The first gentle caress of my tongue has her hands fisting the sheets, and fuck. I inhale deeply, unable to get enough of her scent.
“I love you, little bird,” I say against her clit.
