"Sometimes, that's all it is." Sasha's voice has an edge now. "Luck."
I'm acutely aware of the heat of his palm through my jeans, the way his thumb traces small circles on my inner thigh. Even in the middle of this tense standoff, my body responds to his touch. Heat pools low in my belly, and I have to fight to keep my breathing steady.
Danil moves to the fireplace, bracing one hand against the mantel. The flames cast shadows across his face, making him look older, more worn. "Do you remember anything?" he asks quietly. "Anything at all about your life before?"
"Flashes." Sasha's voice is frustrated. "Images that don't connect. A restaurant. Expensive suits. The smell of cigars and vodka. Your face, but younger." He pauses. "A gun in my hand."
Danil's expression doesn't change, but I see his knuckles whiten against the mantel. "What else?"
"Nothing clear. It's like trying to see through frosted glass." Sasha runs his free hand through his hair. "I know I should remember you. I can feel it. But I can't… I can't access it."
"It'll come back." Danil turns from the fire, and his eyes are fierce. "You're the strongest person I know. You'll remember."
"And when I do?" Sasha's voice is hard again. "What then? What am I going to remember about my life?"
"That you're a good man." Danil's words are careful, measured. "That you protect people. That you have a code you live by, even when it's hard."
"A code." Sasha's laugh is bitter. "That's vague as hell."
"It's the truth."
They stare at each other, and I feel like I'm watching two alphas establish dominance, neither willing to back down, neither willing to show weakness. The testosterone in the room is thick enough to choke on.
Danil breaks the stalemate first, moving back to his chair. He picks up his mug, takes a long drink, then sets it down carefully. "I should probably find somewhere to stay for the night. The storm's getting worse."
"There's a motel in town," I say quickly. Too quickly.
"Fifteen miles in a blizzard," I say, shaking my head. "He'd never make it."
Sasha's arm slides around my waist, pulling me against his side. The movement is possessive, protective, and unmistakably territorial. "The couch pulls out," he says flatly. "You can stay here tonight. But tomorrow, you leave."
"Fair enough." Danil's eyes flick between us, and I see understanding dawn in them. "I appreciate it."
I stand, needing to move, needing space from the intensity of Sasha's touch and Danil's knowing gaze. "I'll get you some blankets."
As I move toward the hallway, I feel both men's eyes on me. Sasha's gaze is hot, possessive, tracking my movement like a predator watching prey. Danil's is more analytical, still trying to solve whatever puzzle he sees when he looks at me.
When I return with the blankets and a pillow, Danil is standing by the window again, looking out at the storm. Sasha hasn't moved from the couch, but his body is tense, coiled.
"Here." I set the bedding on the chair. "Bathroom's down the hall if you need it."
"Thank you." Danil takes the blankets, then looks at me again with that same puzzled expression. "Maya, right? That's what he called you?"
"Yes." My mouth is dry.
He nods slowly, but his eyes are sharp. Too sharp. "It's a pretty name."
Sasha stands, moving to my side. His hand finds the small of my back, warm and possessive. "It's late. We should all get some sleep."
"Yeah." Danil doesn't move toward the couch. Instead, he keeps looking at me, his head tilted slightly. "It's just… I can't shake the feeling that I know you from somewhere."
"You don't." I force my voice to stay steady.
"Maybe not." He sets his mug down on the coffee table with deliberate care. His eyes never leave my face. "But you look very familiar. Add dark hair and a different name, and you'd be the spitting image of someone I know who disappeared a few years ago."
22
ALEKSANDR
