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“I’m so sorry, Mr. Komarov,” the woman says breathlessly, gazing up at him without letting go of his waist. “I saw you from across the street, and I just—” She stops, turning her head to call over her shoulder. “Andrey! This is him! This is the man I told you about!”

A young man jogs to catch up with her, the bewildered expression on his face instantly melting into gratitude. He looks at Zevran like he’s gazing at a guardian angel.

Zevran still has his arms held out from his sides, his expression rigid, as though he’s only just restraining himself from throwing her off him.

“Miss Kuznetsov,” Zevran says, his voice clipped and deadly. “Would you mind releasing me?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She flushes bright red, instantly stepping back from him.

Zevran straightens his cuffs, steps around her, and reaches for me, his large hand drawing me flush against his side.

“Miss Kuznetsov, this is Cora. My fiancée.”

Despite the lingering spike of heat in my veins, my heart softens hearing him say my fiancée.

“Cora, this is one of my former assets.”

Understanding sweeps over me. I look at the young woman again, no longer seeing a threat, but picturing her as she must have been when Zevran found her. Terrified, bruised, and shivering in the dark.

“Zevran saved you?” I ask, my voice filled with genuine warmth. “I’m so relieved you made it out alive. Has it been hard for you since you returned home?”

I reach out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“A few nightmares, and loads of therapy, but I’m doing much better,” she admits with a rueful smile. Then her eyes travel to the brand-new diamond ring on my finger. “You must be so proud of him. He’s a very special man to do what he does.”

“He is,” I say without hesitation, smiling up at him. I pause, then add, “He rescued me, too. He wasn’t there for me specifically, but…well, it’s complicated.”

Delight bursts across her face. “Mr. Komarov saved you? He saw you in some terrible place, and it was love at first sight? That is so romantic!”

Zevran offers her a sardonic curve of his lips, and I know he’s remembering me sinking my teeth into his hand. “Something like that. I’m glad to see you doing well, Miss Kuznetsov. We won’t keep you.”

Without waiting for another word, Zevran steers me smoothly toward the waiting car. I wave a polite goodbye to the woman, and a second later, Demyan has the door closed and we’re gliding into traffic.

Zevran adjusts his jacket, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’m sorry about that, printsessa. That doesn’t happen often, thankfully.”

I brush his apology away, leaning back against the leather seat. “She was just grateful. I can certainly understand that.”

Zevran turns his head to regard me, a gleam of pure mischief lighting up his eyes. “Oh? Do you? Because I could have sworn you were ready to tear her hair out for a second there.”

“I was not,” I scoff, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“If you say so,” he purrs, moving closer. He drapes a muscular arm around my shoulders, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “But it’s intoxicating to see how possessive you are of me. Knowing you want to mark your territory just as hard as I mark mine? Khristos, Cora.”

I turn in his lap, taking hold of the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him down to my level.

“You’re my fiancé,” I tell him, my voice fierce and entirely unapologetic. “I’m the only woman who gets to touch you. I get to grab hold of you in the street. No one else.”

“Damn fucking right,” Zevran growls, his eyes darkening with devotion.

He captures my mouth in a kiss that takes my breath away entirely. His tongue slides deep into my mouth, claiming me, tasting me, while his large hands slide up my back, pulling me so flush against his chest that I can feel the beating of his heart against my ribs.

By the time he finally pulls back, I’m gasping for air, my lips swollen and my head spinning.

As Demyan turns the car down the quiet, tree-lined streets of Corvale toward Zevran’s estate—our home—a quiet thought crosses my mind. I almost wish I’d gotten Miss Kuznetsov’s phone number. It might have been comforting to talk to another woman who understood the lingering shadows of that basement.

Zevran takes my left hand, raising it once more to press his lips to my fingers, his eyes softening as he looks at me.

“I haven’t forgotten what you said to Dragan today, printsessa,” he murmurs, his tone turning serious and deeply gentle. “I will personally make sure Viktoriya’s father hears every word about what she went through, and how fiercely she fought. I will make sure he knows how proud he should be. She will not be forgotten.”