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So why am I just lying here gazing at Zevran like a lovesick schoolgirl? Panic sparks in my chest, burning away the last remnants of sleep. As soon as he wakes up, we’ll be back in that car, headed straight for Corvale. This might be my only chance.

I ease onto my side, taking agonizing care with my movements, watching Zevran’s face for any flicker of waking. I don’t know the layout of this house, and I have no idea what I’m going to do about getting past the attack dogs or the locked gate, but I have zero options until I get the key to these handcuffs. It has to be on him somewhere. I curse myself for not paying attention last night.

I inch closer, our cuffed wrists resting on the mattress between us, the short steel chain clinking softly. I freeze, holding my breath until his steady breathing resumes. My left hand feels clumsy and heavy in the fresh plaster, but I can still use my right fingertips. I carefully trace the outline of his trouser pockets but feel nothing resembling a tiny metal key. There’s nothing in his shirt pocket, either.

His suit jacket is still on, and I slide my hand carefully inside the dark fabric. I’m pressed right against his side, and the solid heat radiating through his shirt is overwhelming. My heart hammers violently against my ribs as my eyes flick continuously to his face, just inches from mine.

Don’t wake up. Please, God, don’t wake up.

My fingers slide into the inner left jacket pocket, and my nail grazes something small, flat, and cold.

I hold my breath as I push deeper into his pocket, and my fingertips close around the tiny metal ring.

7

Zevran

Isurface slowly. The first thing I’m aware of is softness, and our shared heat under the covers. The room has turned golden with late afternoon light, and Viktoriya is pressed tightly against me. For the first time in decades, there is no job and no time pressure. No highway stretching out ahead of us. There’s only this. The smell of her hair. The sound of her breathing.

I smile before I even open my eyes.

She’s there when I do, nestled close to me, the way she’s been since the moment I saved her. I take my time looking at her in the golden light. That pretty face that’s given me nothing but trouble, and I find I don’t mind the trouble at all. She’s young and scared, but she’s as sweet as honey when I have her close to me.

I reach for her.

My hand finds her face as though I’ve done this a thousand times. My fingers slide into her hair, and she’s exactly as soft as I knew she’d be. I caress her, slow and unhurried, and I gaze at her the way you watch something you’ve decided to keep. I want so desperately to hold on to this feeling that I’m ready to burn my entire life down to protect this girl.

She’s holding her breath.

She’s scared, I think, from somewhere deep inside, but she wants me.

My thumb moves softly across her cheekbone.

“Printsessa,” I breathe.

I’ll be so careful with her. So good.

I cup her face, pulling her flush against my chest. My mouth is almost on hers.

Then I see it out of the corner of my eye.

The open cuff, dangling empty from my wrist.

I blink. My eyes flick from the cuff, to her hand, to her face, and I watch her trepidation blossom into pure terror in the half second it takes me to understand what I’m seeing.

I wrench her right hand up before my face and study it like I’m going mad. Did I forget to lock her to me before I fell asleep?

No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t have.

Which means she’s not nestled cozily into my side because of how it feels. She didn’t press herself close to me for any other reason than to sneak the key from my pocket. The softness was a lie. The closeness was a calculated move. She’s using my weakness for her against me.

Cold, lethal humiliation violently snaps into a blinding white rage.

I move before she can come to her senses, rolling her beneath me in a single, fluid motion. She makes a sound of pure outrage as her back hits the mattress.

I pin her good arm flat above her head, and I look down at her, breathing hard, waiting for the red haze in my vision to clear.

She glares up at me, furious and flushed, her hair spread wildly across the pillow.