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12

Viktoriya

In the side mirror, I watch Zevran pump gas with unhurried ease. Then he strolls into the store as though he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

Meanwhile, I’m handcuffed in his car, still as much of a prisoner as I was when he pulled me out of that basement.

Un-freaking-believable.

His kiss is still warm on my lips, and that’s a problem. I’ve been losing myself in him. In the tenderness, the possessiveness, the way he looks at me like I’m someone he’s decided to keep. And I’ve been letting it happen. Worse, I’ve been leaning into it, turning my face toward him the way a sunflower seeks the light, because it feels so unbearably good to be wanted like that.

I rattle my cuff against the handhold. Cold evidence that he might want me, but he doesn’t trust me one single inch.

But then again, why should he? I don’t trust him either. In fact, at this very moment, I should be brainstorming ways to get away from him. Now would be the perfect time, because he’s left the car keys right there in the center console. They lie there, mocking me, because I can’t hope to reach the ignition and start the car from the passenger side. If only I had the handcuff keys from Zevran’s jacket, I could…

Zevran’s jacket.

In my mind’s eye, I see him tossing his suit jacket onto the back seat of the car before pulling on a hoodie.

I half turn in my seat, as much as the shackle around my wrist lets me, and I see the jacket crumpled beside his duffel bag.

Inside the store, Zevran is lingering in front of the cold drinks fridge. I won’t ever have another opportunity as perfect as this one. It’s exactly what I need to do. The only right choice in this awful, dangerous situation.

So why does the thought of ditching him at this gas station and disappearing into the night make my heart ache so brutally?

I saw his face on that back road when he thought I was going to run into the trooper’s arms. That bleak, searching look, like he was already grieving me. I don’t want to put that look back on his face, but I’ve made this mistake before. Staying when I should have run.

I don’t know Zevran Komarov. Not really. But I know what he’ll do when he discovers I’m not who he thinks I am. All his wanting and sweetness will curdle into darkness. He’ll seize me by the throat, his eyes turning black with anger, his teeth bared as he throttles the life out of me.

A sob rises in my throat.

I can only save myself. No one else is ever going to do it for me.

With a final look at Zevran, who’s comparing two sodas in front of an open fridge, I reach into the back seat, my hand clumsy and heavy with its cast, and pull the jacket onto my lap.

The key is in the inner pocket, exactly where I found it the first time. My fingers close around the cold metal, and I feel a sharp pang in my chest that I force myself to ignore.

I undo the cuff, leaving it dangling empty from the handhold, and scramble over the console into the driver’s seat.

I start the car, and the engine roars to life.

In the rearview mirror, Zevran steps out of the store, a regular Coke in one hand and a vanilla Coke in the other.

The vanilla Coke is for me. I know with painful, devastating certainty that he picked it up with the same instinct that made him order me a vanilla latte. Because he knew I’d love the sweetness. Because he knows I crave something more than an ordinary coffee or a plain Coke. He actually thinks about what makes me happy.

Zevran starts running the exact moment I slam my foot on the gas. The powerful engine roars, and the gleaming Mercedes leaps forward. I tear away from the pumps and peel wildly onto the dark street.

“Viktoriya!”

I can see his face in the mirror, raw, furious, and utterly disbelieving. Zevran Komarov, stripped of every single layer of composure he owns, sprinting through the dust after me, not understanding what’s happening.

It’s difficult to control the wheel with my left arm trapped in a thick cast. The pedals are almost too far away for my legs, and my heart is hammering against my ribs a million miles a minute.

But I keep my foot down on the gas pedal, and the dark night swallows me whole.

13

Zevran