Chapter Thirty-Six
KATERINA
The Fates’ voices echoed in Katerina’s head as she made her way back from the shrine, the feather safe in the pocket of her gear. Before, the dark waters of the lake had stretched, untroubled, beneath the overhanging oaks and the clouded sky. But now, a figure stood several yards offshore, near the flat rock that rose above the surface, his face tilted to the sky as if listening.
The pose was unnaturally still, and Katerina blinked, as if to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. But no. Niko stood, waist-deep in the water, naked, his back to her. She said his name, but he didn’t reply. It was like he wasn’t really there at all.
Fear seized Katerina’s heart. Before she could think better of it, she stripped off her clothes and dropped them at the water’s edge, then strode in after him. The water was colder than it had been earlier, and she hissed in surprise as it lapped at her ankles, her knees, her thighs. But still, Niko didn’t react. The closer she got to him, the more his posture alarmed her. His muscles were tensed, as if poised to attack. But what could he be hunting here, where she herself sensed no threat?
Stopping several feet away out of prudence, she tried one last time. “Niko?”
Finally, he turned, his face in shadow. The moonlight that crept between the leaves illuminated the silvered scars that crossed his chest: the older ones, from battle, and the newest one, right over his heart, a gift from Elena’s blade. It fell on his Mark, and Katerina sucked in a breath. Was it her imagination, or had the ink-and-blood tattoo dulled, the rich obsidian hue fading to a paler ghost of its usual self?
Was this what he had been hiding from her?
Surely it was a trick of the light, and nothing more. An illusion, a reflection of the fear that threatened to swallow Katerina whole at the thought of losing her Shadow.
“Niko?” she said again, trying to keep the alarm from her voice. The very last thing he needed was to think she was afraid of him. “Are you all right?”
One moment, he was still, a silvered silhouette against the backdrop of velvet, star-pricked dusk and shifting water. Then he was moving, prowling toward her with a predator’s slow grace. The water parted around him, small wavelets coursing outward as the lake gave way. He was coming for her, and Saints help her, she had no intention of fleeing.
With every step, her Shadow loomed larger, blocking out the stars, the trees, the rind of moon, until he was all she could see. Her throat grew dry, her swallow an audible click, as he reached her, his hands rising until they cupped her face with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.
He’d sworn not to touch her, vowed it on his blade to the Saints above and the demons below. Vowed it to her. But here he was, stroking her hair back from her face, tracing a finger over her cheekbone, down her throat, and into the dip between her breasts as if memorizing the feel of her. Afraid to frighten him off, she stilled, not speaking a word.
Gods, how she wished she could tell him what had just happened. How she believed their child might be growing inside her. But no. Not like this, when he was finally touching her for the first time since that night outside Kalach.
She strained to make out his expression, but he ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. This close, she felt as well as heard the growl that rumbled from his chest. “Mine,” he murmured, his tongue tracing a path down her throat, then over her breasts, lashing her nipples so that they sprang to attention. She moaned, and his hands tightened, pulling her flush against him. His body was slick with lake water, every muscle tensed with restraint and thrumming with desire. It pulsed from him, seeping into Katerina’s veins until she felt drunk on it. Until there was nothing but her and Niko and the night.
Maybe he had changed his mind. And if so, she would show him how good they were together. She would remind him why their love had been worth dying for. And why, now more than ever, he had to live.
Tentatively, afraid to frighten him away, she lifted a hand and pressed it to the Mark that bound him to her. Faded or not, it heated beneath her hands, flaring to life. The growl in his chest grew louder, and he swelled against her belly, thick and wanting. Her core throbbed, aching for him, as he bent his knees to angle himself, brushing against her.
“Yes.” The single syllable sounded as if it had been torn from his chest.
Katerina squirmed against him, urging him onward, and he lifted her, as effortlessly as if she weighed nothing at all. She wrapped her legs around him and he arched against her without hesitation, as if he hadn’t been going on and on since they’d fled Rivki about never touching her again. As if he hadn’t asked her to take his life.
She should be telling him to stop. Reminding him that their friends slept in the cabin a few hundred yards away. That he was supposed to be keeping watch. But she had no intention of doing any such thing.
Her Shadow cradled her as if she were something precious, dropping his head to take her mouth with his. He tasted as he always had—of the wildness of the night and the mint leaves he chewed before bed. But he tasted of something different, too, of salt and a bittersweet taste she couldn’t name. Katerina thought maybe it was grief.
She swiveled her hips, desperate to feel him inside her, and he groaned into their kiss, his fingers digging into her flesh with enough ferocity to bruise. He nipped at her bottom lip, then trailed lower, leaning her backward so that her hair brushed the surface of the water. His mouth ghosted over one of her breasts, then found her nipple, the suction hard and demanding. It felt so good, and yet—something was wrong. He was here, and yet not.
I need you to kill me.
Perhaps, so close to their destination, he meant this to be goodbye?
“Niko,” she breathed. “What are you?—”
Her Shadow didn’t let her finish. “I love you, Katya. I always have.”
“I love you, too. But are you sure…”
“Keep me like your darkest secret,” he growled, grinding against her until her core clenched, wanting more. “Never let me go.”
Katerina inhaled, startled. Her darkest secret? Did he know what the Rozhanitsy had implied—had he somehow divined?—
But no. If that were the case, surely he would not be on the verge of making love to her as if his existence this side of the veil depended on it. One of his hands supported her back; the other gripped her hip, guiding her. Each slide of his flesh against hers brought drugging, claiming pleasure. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she forced them open as the hard, hot length of him slipped through her folds, tantalizing her with the promise of what was to come—but not filling her, not yet. He was her anchor, here in this vast lake under the canopy of stars.
