Page 109

I hope she’s savoring this moment. I hope the memory of him like this warms her on bad days.

Cora smiles.

When she speaks, her voice carries through the silent basement, clear and unwavering.

“Thank you, Zevran.”

I bring her into the same guest bedroom as last time, the thick blackout curtains drawn tight against the morning light. I sit her on the edge of the mattress, step into the adjacent bathroom, and twist the handles until warm water streams into the basin.

When I return with a wet cloth, she hasn’t moved. Hands rest palms up in her lap and she looks scraped hollow. But she smiles up at me as I approach.

My cracked ribs scream as I lower myself down, but I ignore the fire in my side and drop to my knees between her thighs.

“Stay still for me, printsessa,” I murmur, easing into her space.

I begin with her face, wiping away the grime and the crusted blood with slow, deliberate strokes. She sits quietly under my hands, her breath steadying, letting me tend to her, completely yielded to my care. I think back to the grimy motel room and the way she used to flinch if I moved too quickly. And me, I didn’t know how to comfort a woman until Cora.

We’ve come a long way together, her and me.

I take her right hand, supporting her wrist gently as I clean the scrapes. She must have been dragged over asphalt. I work slowly, dabbing away the dirt, testing the joint of each finger with gentle pressure to make sure nothing is broken. She watches my hands as I tend to her.

“I’m sorry they took you again,” I murmur. “I should never have let that happen. A man protects what’s his.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She thinks for a moment, her gaze rising to mine. “And this time I fought back right away. I didn’t wait eleven days.”

I pause, looking up at her.

“After Ruslan was shot, I took his gun,” she tells me. “I didn’t freeze. I thought of you. Your arms around me in my kitchen. Your hands over mine. Your voice whispering in my ear. And I stopped shaking long enough to shoot those bastards.”

Her eyes are clear and her voice is strong, and even though Demyan already told me about this, a surge of pride swells in my chest.

“That’s my brave girl,” I whisper, cupping her jaw and running my thumb soothingly over her cheek.

Her throat works, a faint blush warming her pale skin under my touch. “Ruslan and Demyan. Are they…?”

“I was checking my messages on the way here. As far as I know, they’re alive.”

A long, shaky exhale leaves her chest.

“But it’s bad,” I tell her honestly. “They’re both on an operating table in Corvale right now.”

She closes her eyes and nods, taking the hard truth like I knew she would.

I stay on my knees, keeping my hands resting possessively on her thighs, watching her face.

When she finally opens her eyes, the green is brilliant, swimming with unshed tears.

“They got me away as soon as that SUV crashed into you. They knew you’d want them to save me.”

“That was their job.”

“That doesn’t—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I’m still so sorry they were shot. They aren’t just soldiers to me.”

“I know, printsessa. You weren’t just a job to them either.”

She nods slowly, though I know she won’t let the guilt go so easily. Her big, tender heart is the very thing that makes me want to violently beat back the world to keep her safe.

But she deserves the truth from me. All of it. There’s something I haven’t told her—something I haven’t told anyone—and I need her to know every piece of me.