"I should be terrified of you."
His hand tightens slightly on my hip. "Are you?"
I think about it for a moment. Am I afraid of him? Of what he's capable of? Of the violence I know he's committed, the blood I've seen on his hands?
"Sometimes," I admit. "But not right now."
He's quiet for a long moment. "You should be. Even now. Especially now."
"Why especially now?"
"Because this—" He stops, and I feel the tension in his body as he struggles to find words for something he doesn't understand either. "This is more dangerous than anything else."
"I know," I whisper.
His arms tighten around me, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. The gesture is so tender, so at odds with everything I know about him, that it makes my chest ache.
I don't know how long we lie there. Time feels suspended, as if nothing can happen while he's holding me in his arms. There's just the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the gentle stroke of his hand on my skin. Eventually, I feel myself starting to drift, exhaustion pulling me under. I fight it for a moment, not wanting to let go of this, not wanting to wake up and find it was a dream or that he's gone or that everything has changed back to what it was before.
"Sleep,ptitsa," he murmurs. I let my eyes close, let myself sink into the warmth and safety of his arms, and for the first time since I was taken, I fall asleep without fear.
17
LIESL
Iwake to pale morning light filtering through the curtains, and the immediate awareness that I'm alone.
The sheets beside me are cool to the touch. I press my palm flat against the mattress where he slept, searching for some lingering warmth, some evidence that last night actually happened. My body aches—a pleasant soreness between my thighs, tenderness in my breasts where his mouth was. The physical evidence is there, but somehow it still feels like a dream.
Like I imagined the tenderness. The vulnerability. The way he looked at me like I was something more than a captive, more than leverage.
I sit up slowly, the sheet pooling around my waist. I'm still naked, and still wearing the evidence of what we did—his scent on my skin, the faint marks where his fingers gripped my hips, the stickiness of his cum on my skin.
The room is quiet. Too quiet. I listen for sounds of movement in the bathroom, the shower running, anything that would tell me he's still here. But there's nothing. Just the soft whisper of wind against the windows and the distant sound of birds outside.
He's gone.
The realization shouldn't hurt as much as it does. Why would last night change anything? He's not mine… we're not boyfriend and girlfriend. We're some nameless thing that out in the real world would be unacceptable. It should be laughable to think that he would spend the whole night in my arms, that I'd expect to wake up next to him like we're a couple.
But knowing that doesn't make it easier.
I slide out of bed, my legs unsteady, and look around for my discarded pajamas. I need a shower, but something in me feels like I can't do anything until I see him again. Until I see him look at me, and find out whether everything has gone back to the way it was before.
I need to confirm that last night was real, that the man who held me so carefully actually exists outside of my imagination.
I pull on the lace-edged silky tank top and matching shorts that I was wearing last night before he came into my room, and slip out into the hallway. There's a guard posted now, and he steps forward.
"You're not to leave your room, miss."
I keep walking. "I need to find Andrei."
He follows, reaching out to grab my arm. "Miss?—"
I sidestep, jerking away, and spin to face him. "If you touch me, Andrei will cut your hand off."
His eyes go wide. He's younger, and the threat seems to sink in. He takes a step back, hesitating, and that's all the time I need to make it to the stairs, hurrying down to the main floor of the house.
There aren't any guards in sight, and I head toward his office first. The door is locked, and when I knock, there's no response. I don't hear any sounds inside. I go to the dining room next, and see a plate and a cup of coffee abandoned, but no Andrei.
