Page 52 of The Pakhan’s Stolen Bride

"Via," he rasps, his head turning to look at me, his eyes dark, blown out, and completely filled with a sudden, wild intensity.

I move my mouth down his spine, kissing every jagged dip, every white line, trying to erase the memory of the greenhouse, trying to show him that he’s not just a weapon. He’s human. He’s a man who has been bleeding in the dark for twenty years, and I’m done letting him bleed alone.

He turns around in a flash of movement, his large hands grabbing my waist and lifting me onto his lap. His chest is heaving, his breath hot against my face as he stares down into my eyes.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he growls, his fingers digging into my hips, his grip tight enough to bruise.

"I’m showing you your own skin, Ilya," I say, my hands coming up to cup his face, my thumbs tracing his cheekbones. "You don't have to be the monster with me."

His jaw works, his eyes searching my face with a desperate, starving hunger that makes my lower belly pull into a tight, aching knot. He’s not the dominant Pakhan right now. He’s a man who is terrified of the way his own heart is beating, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that can keep him from drowning.

"I will burn this entire city before I let them touch you, Via," he whispers, his voice breaking slightly.

"I know," I say, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I lean in, pressing my mouth against his, wanting to feel him badly. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me so close against his bare chest I can feel the thud of his heart.

The storm outside is still roaring, the thunder shaking the walls, but as I wrap my legs around his waist, I don't hear the gunfire anymore.

I only hear him.

20

ILYA

My lips part from hers, the heat of her mouth lingering against my skin. I slowly pull back, my chest expanding as I draw a breath, and press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. My thumbs brush the tears from her damp cheeks, my touch lighter than it has any right to be. "Go to bed, Via."

I stand up, the floor cold under my feet as I force myself to turn away. My chest is tight, a wild, clawing panic under my ribs because of how close I just came to letting her see every broken piece of my past. If I stay here, if I look at her for another second in this soft, golden dimness, I won't be able to put the mask back on. I’ll lose the edge I need to keep us both alive.

Her hand shoots out, her small fingers catching my wrist, her grip surprisingly tight as she halts my retreat. "Don't go, Ilya... stay... please."

I look down at her, my jaw clenching as the blue flames of the stove throw long, flickering shadows across her face. I can feel the rapid, desperate heat of her palm against my pulse. "I can't stay here without touching you, Via. And I’m not sure that’s what you want right now."

She looks me straight in the eye, her hazel pupils dark, blown out, and completely steady through her tears. "I want it more than I want my next breath."

A low, rough growl rumbles deep in my chest, my body instantly hardening at the sheer, desperate surrender in her voice. "I don't want to hurt you, little bird."

"Then don't." She stands up slowly, her bare feet silent on the cold floor, stepping directly into my space until her chest is pressing against mine. "But please, hold me, touch me, kiss me... fuck me... please, I... I need it, Ilya."

The last thread of my control snaps.

I slide my arms under her knees and her back, lifting her in a single, smooth motion. Her weight is nothing to me, a fragile, trembling bundle of gold hair and soft grey wool. She wraps her arms around my neck, her face burying deep into the crook of my shoulder, her hot breaths puffing against my collarbone

I carry her out of the kitchen, my feet thudding softly on the marble of the staircase as we ascend into the quiet, dark upper level of the estate. The storm outside is still screaming, the lightning throwing long, blue-white sheets of light through the arched windows, but the noise feels distant now. The only sound that matters is the rapid, shallow hiss of her breathing against my skin.

I push open the double doors of my bedroom with my shoulder, stepping into the dim, shadow-draped space. The fire in the hearth has died down to a bed of glowing red coals, casting a warm, amber light across the massive bed. I walk to the edge of the mattress and lower her slowly onto the dark silk sheets.

She stays there, her legs curled up slightly, her eyes wide, dark, and completely glassy. She looks up at me as I step back to strip off my wet flannel trousers, leaving myself completely bare.

My cock is already thick, rigid, and throbbing with a heavy, painful pulse that has been building since she kissed my scars in the kitchen.

I climb onto the bed, my knees sinking into the soft mattress as I hover over her. I reach down, my large, rough hands catching the hem of her oversized grey sweater. "Raise your arms, Via."

She lifts her hands without a second of hesitation, letting me pull the heavy wool over her head and toss it onto the floor.

She is completely bare beneath it. The amber glow of the coals traces the soft, smooth curve of her breasts, the elegant dip of her waist, and the pale flare of her hips. She is beautiful. Her chest is heaving, her skin goosebumped from the cool air, her thighs trembling slightly as she looks up into my face.

I reach out, my fingers trembling just a fraction as I lay my hand flat against her lower belly. The skin is so soft, so warm, it makes my jaw clench with a sudden, suffocating ache. I slide my hand upward, my thumb tracing the swell of her ribs, the rapid, frantic beat of her heart under my palm.