The sound of the howling wind reverberates around me, but it doesn’t feel cold.
In fact, it’s warm.
So warm that I bury my face in the pillow and moan softly at the welcoming embrace. In an instant, it feels as if I’m back to happier times in my life.
Times when Mama would hug me to sleep, Papa would kiss my forehead, and Anton would tease me about being a baby.
Times I took for granted, oblivious to the bleak reality fate had prepared for me.
So I burrow further into the warmness of the pillow, inhaling deeply and engraving every detail to memory.
Then I pause when I notice something hard against my head. In fact, the firm surface is glued to my whole body. A pillow isn’t supposed to feel like steel.
Slowly, I open my eyes. The moment I understand the situation, a wordless gasp spills from my lips.
Turns out, the pillow isn’t a pillow, after all, and I am, in fact, cocooned in Kirill’s arms.
I tilt my chin up to catch a glimpse of his sleeping face. The hard lines of his jaw are shadowed by the early morning light slipping through the window.
The storm is still blazing outside, but it’s not dark, or maybe not as dark as anyone would expect.
His lashes are quite thick, and so are his brows. I have an undeniable compulsion pushing me to touch them, just to see how they feel.
As I lift my hand, he tightens his arm on my middle. It’s the same arm he threw over me last night, and he hasn’t changed his position, not even an inch. I’m the one who turned in his direction and practically hugged him back.
My hand pauses near his face.
What am I doing?
Kirill is my captain and benefactor. He saved my life because, as he said, he’s not the type who’d leave any of his men behind. Not only that, but he also agreed to keep my identity a secret and didn’t probe for the actual reason I assumed another gender.
Am I in awe of him due to gratefulness? I can’t even look away from his face or attempt to pull away from him.
No. It’s not really gratefulness, but more like an intense version of that feeling of uneasiness I have whenever he’s around. Only, now, it’s accompanied by a dangerous impulse. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay in this position for a bit longer.
Without touching him, my hand hovers in the air as I trace my fingers over his brows, the straight line of his nose, the contour of his cheekbones, and the dark shadow forming on his hard jawline.
My forefinger pauses when I reach his mouth. These lips were so close to mine that I couldn’t breathe properly.
That feeling has come back again, and I find myself constricted, hot, and abnormally bothered. Even the dull pain in my shoulder throbs and stings.
I shift and accidentally, or not really, inch closer to him, but then I come to a jolting halt.
Something hard and massive stabs the bottom of my belly. At first, I think there’s an object between us, so I move my stomach up and down, but the ‘object’ grows in size.
Holy shit.
It’s his…dick.
And it’s erect and huge.
My ears heat, and my fingers that are hovering in the air tremble. Tracing his face is the last thing on my mind now that I’m being poked by his boner.
This is highly inappropriate and has the potential to screw over any professional relationship we might have had. No, it wasn’t the best, and we had our differences, but it was always ‘proper.’ Strained but right.
It didn’t help that I was more often than not uncomfortable and wary around him.
But this…this…is an entirely different beast.
The right thing to do would be to leave the bed before he wakes up and save us each from the awkwardness.
That’s what my brain tells me, anyway. But do I listen? Not really.
I’m more fascinated and interested in the current display of the male anatomy. I know it’s natural and by no means due to my presence, but it did get harder when I moved, so maybe I had some effect, after all?
Just to make sure, I lean closer, subtly rubbing my stomach up and down. Once again, his cock thickens against me.
I don’t stop.
I can’t.
I keep wondering how big it can get, and I’m rewarded by the twitchiness against my skin.
Yes, we’re clothed, but it doesn’t feel that way right now.
My belly flutters, and a sudden zap of pleasure shoots between my legs. I have to place a hand on my mouth to stop whatever sound from coming out.
“You better be aware of what you’re doing or I swear to fuck…”
I come to a halt, my breath catching, and a cold sweat breaks out all over my skin.
Icy blue eyes clash with mine, and I have nowhere to go or hide. All I can do is remain here, motionless and feeling every beat of my heart thundering against my rib cage.
The scenario I dreaded earlier comes crashing down with more of an impact than I anticipated.
I can’t breathe or think as he fixates me with those eyes that could be mistaken for weapons of mass destruction.
“So you are awake.” The husky timbre of his sleepy voice carries in the air and gets stuck between us.
His large hand flexes on my hip, and I can almost feel his skin sinking so deeply into me that I couldn’t shake it off even if I wanted to.
“And here I thought you were moving in your sleep.” There’s a slight amusement in his voice, and if I weren’t so mortified, I’d swear it sounds sadistic in nature.
“I…I was.” I lie through my teeth and don’t sound convincing in the least.
“Is that so? I’m almost sure you were doing it on purpose.”
My cheeks heat, and I start to lower my head. In a flash, he lifts my chin with his index and middle fingers.
This time, I have no escape from the cold depths of his punishing gaze. It strikes me then that the reason behind my unease has always been these eyes.
They hide more than they show. They’re secretive, cruel, and hold not an ounce of empathy or mercy.
It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking about or plotting, let alone try to evade him.
“Were you doing it on purpose, Sasha?” The edge beneath his words leaves me breathless. It’s almost as if he knows the exact corner he’s driven me to and is now coming for the knockout.
It doesn’t help that a jolt travels through me whenever he calls me Sasha. It’s new and sounds intimate whenever he says it.
“No.” My voice is barely a whisper, but it’s calm and collected—nothing of the nervousness from earlier, as if I actually believe my words.
“Are you sure?”
My heart lunges, reacting to the insistence in his voice. I’m so close to divulging my intention for no other reason than to see the reaction he’ll have. I stop at the knowledge that I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I demolished the wall between us.
I can’t afford to be stuck in Kirill’s web with everything that’s resting on my shoulders.
I simply can’t afford to be distracted.
So I nod.
The moment I do, it’s like I’ve removed a spell.
Kirill releases my jaw and lifts his hand off my waist. I can see the closing off of his face as he says, “Very well.”
He rolls to the other side of the bed and gets up in one swift movement. I try to catch a glimpse of his face, but he’s completely sealed himself off as the strict, unapproachable captain.
A knock on the door startles me, then Nadia’s voice follows, “Are you up?”
“Yes, one moment.” I start to stumble out of bed.
“No need to hurry. Just come out for breakfast and your shot whenever you’re ready.”
“Will do, thanks!”
As Nadia’s voice and presence disappear, so has Kirill. He vanished into the en-suite bathroom while I was talking to her.
My feet itch to follow after and try to clear the air, but what’s the point? It’s better this way.
I did the right thing.
At least, I hope so.
After I put on the dress and tights Nadia left on the chair for me, I wash my face in the guest bathroom down the hall. It takes me more time than necessary since I have to stop every now and then due to the pain in my shoulder.
Once I deem myself presentable enough, I go to meet the old couple.
Like last night, Nadia doesn’t allow me to help and, instead, gives me some medication. The shot, too, of course. I nearly cry waiting for the ordeal to be over.
“You’ve improved so fast,” Nicholas comments as he begrudgingly lets me help him in setting the table.
“She’s young and strong,” Nadia replies while bringing some toast.
“I think the will is everything.” He smiles at me as my uncle would. “You definitely have a strong will, young lady. Protect it with everything you have.”
“My father told me to stay alive. Everything else can be fixed as long as I’m alive,” I say and resist the tears that well in my eyes.
“Those are wise words,” Nicholas says.
I wish he’d been wise enough to stay alive.
“Oh, you’re here. Let’s sit down for breakfast.” Nadia ushers Kirill to the seat beside me, and for some reason, I hold my breath for a moment too long.
He’s in black pants and a light blue button-down that molds against his pecs and biceps. And he’s wearing those glasses again that make him look tamer than he actually is.
He thanks Nadia for the food and compliments Nicholas on a chair he made himself.
But he doesn’t look at me or address me. Not even once. He’s subtle about it, too. It’s not that he’s glaring at me or treating me differently.
Maybe I’m imagining things. After all, this is just him being himself. He’s the same Kirill I’ve come to know during the past couple of months.
I may have gotten a glimpse of a change in him during this ordeal, but that might simply be me trying to see a human side of him.
And failing.
“Do you even know how to use that?”
I lift my head at Nadia’s voice. I’ve been kind of acting like her inexperienced apprentice in the kitchen, and she’s been letting me.
Despite her stern appearance and her merciless needles, Nadia is a kind woman with a natural talent as a caregiver, which makes her the best type of nurse.
I put the knife down and smile awkwardly. I do know how to use it, but only in combat, not in the kitchen.
Nadia, who’s dressed in a lively green apron, shakes her head and takes over the task.
We’ve been staying with the old couple for six days now. The storm ended last night, and today, Nicholas and Kirill went to the local market to stock up.
I wanted to go out, too, but my personal nurse told me that would only happen over her dead body.
The pain in my shoulder has lessened to a dramatic degree, and I can even move it freely now, but if I do it too fast, there’s a dull ache.
Nadia steals a glance at me. “You don’t usually cook, do you?”
I get another knife and peel the potato to mimic what she’s doing. “Not really.”
“How do you keep that husband of yours fed, then?”
My chest jolts, as is the case every time I’m reminded of the roles Kirill and I are playing. I’ve come to the realization that it’s impossible to get used to this fake marriage. Sometimes, I just want to blurt out that we’re not actually a couple.
But then again, I don’t want to hurt their feelings after everything they’ve done for me. As Kirill mentioned, they’re traditionalists with set values and might have trouble accepting us if we’re not ‘married.’
“We just get by,” I answer with a smile.
“That won’t do.” She chops the carrots in perfect squares and stares at me. “You need to eat healthy food, not just anything to stop the hunger.”
“But I don’t know how to cook.”
“Learn to, then. It’s not that hard.”
Easier said than done.
The kitchen has never appealed to me, and it’s not particularly because I was spoiled by my parents or due to the fact that I was a wild tomboy.
Though I do want to learn so I can stop surviving on army food alone.
“Would you…teach me?” I ask in a small voice.
Nadia all but beams. “Why, of course! What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time?”
I smile back, and she sighs, a nostalgic look covering her eyes. “A long time ago, I also didn’t know how to cook well, but Nicholas was so patient. He even taught me how. See, he’s the oldest in his household, and since he lost his parents when he was young, he had to make sure his younger siblings were fed and taken care of. In his teenage years, he worked a lot of jobs while studying.”
“Wow, that must’ve been hard.”
“It was.” She doesn’t stop chopping, but her gaze becomes brighter and reminiscent. “I watched him all the time. Ever since I was a little girl. He’s ten years older than me, but I knew when I was five that we’d end up together. I bugged him, of course, and he initially had no interest in me, but after I went to college and came back, we became inseparable.”
“That’s beautiful.” It’s probably been decades since they got together, but that shine in her eyes is still blazing strong.
Something tugs at my heart at the thought of what must’ve been an epic love story. I think their type of connection happens once in a lifetime. We only have one chance to seize it before it’s gone forever.
“How did you meet your husband?”
My pulse hikes again, and I shift on my feet as I carefully peel the skin of the potato. “He…saved me.”
“How so?”
“I was surrounded by some guys in a secluded place, and he happened to walk by. He lacks empathy, so he didn’t have to intervene, but he did. Not only did he manage to effectively stop them, but he also punished them for it.”
That incident feels like forever ago, but the events and details are crystal clear in my mind.
A sense of ease falls over me at not having to lie to Nadia. At least, not about this.
She hums knowingly. “He seems like the responsible type.”
“He is.”
“Those are very hard to come by. Appreciate him while you can.” She pauses and her face brightens again. “Oh, here they are.”
Through the kitchen window, I catch a glimpse of Nicholas and Kirill coming through the front door, carrying grocery bags.
Nadia wipes her hand on her apron and goes to welcome her husband. Kirill brings the grocery bags inside the house, but he soon reappears in the front yard, which faces the kitchen window.
The heavy winter coat does nothing to conceal his solid build. Sometimes, he looks no different than a beast with his harsh features and unwelcome aura.
Other times, when he’s wearing the glasses, he looks like a sophisticated gentleman.
At least, from the outside looking in.
He heads to the shed, then reemerges with an axe and several large pieces of wood. Then he proceeds to split them.
Despite the storm ending, it’s still cold and continues to snow. However, Kirill doesn’t seem to care about that since he’s removed his coat and wears only his woolen cardigan.
He continues to chop the wood in sharp, precise movements that tug on my attention.
I can’t look away from him.
Ever since the morning I shamelessly rubbed myself against his erection, it hasn’t been the same between us.
Yes, he holds my hand whenever Nadia brings out her needle of horror, but he doesn’t sleep on the bed anymore.
In fact, I don’t think he sleeps much at all, and if he does, it’s on the chair, where he spends most of the night reading some book Nicholas gave him.
He’s been making it a point to engage in physical contact only when necessary. And for some reason, that’s been making me frustrated for no apparent reason.
I place the knife on the chopping board and rub my fingers against each other. If I want to breathe properly, I have to do something about this situation.
After a moment of contemplation, I pour a cup of tea, put on my coat, and head to the front door. I smile at the distant voices of Nadia and Nicholas coming from their bedroom. She’s nagging him about not wearing enough clothes and how he needs to look out for his health.
By the time I cross the threshold, my smile disappears, and it has less to do with the freezing cold and more to do with the man outside.
My pores fill with dread, which is a familiar feeling whenever I’m around Kirill.
“I brought some tea.” My voice is surprisingly welcoming and calm.
He lifts his head from his task, and I’m once again trapped in his freezing eyes that put winter and all its snow to shame.
His punishing gaze studies me from head to toe, and it takes everything in me not to squirm.
“What?” I say in a less sure tone than earlier.
“You’re able to move comfortably without putting strain on your injury, yes?”
I nod.
He abandons the axe and dons his coat. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere private, where they can’t hear us.”
Oh.
Not sure what to do with the cup of tea, I place it on the chopping block and follow after him. Kirill’s strides eat up the distance in no time, and I have to jog so that I can catch up with him.
We wander into the small forest surrounding the village before he stops under a giant tree, leans against it, and crosses his arms and ankles.
For a moment, he remains like that, not saying anything, and I resist the urge to ask, but I’ve come to learn that Kirill isn’t the type to be pushed into anything.
“We’re going back,” he finally announces.
“Have you gotten hold of the others?”
“Only Viktor, yes. He’s at the base and will come to pick us up tonight.”
“Thank God he’s all right. How about Maksim? Yuri? The others?”
“No clue. I had to end the call because Nicholas found me.”
“Oh, okay.”
Something’s wrong, though. I didn’t pay much attention to it earlier, but the expression on Kirill’s face has been hardening since he came back from the market with Nicholas.
“We’ll need to leave now,” he continues.
“I thought it was tonight?”
“The pickup is tonight, but we need to leave the couple’s house immediately. I had a nagging feeling that I was being watched in the market today, and Viktor confirmed that our position might have been compromised.”
“Okay, we’ll just say goodbye and leave.”
He shakes his head. “We don’t have time for that. If we linger any longer around them, we’ll be putting their lives in danger.”
“We can’t just leave without saying anything.”
“We will. That’s an order.”
My muscles tense, but like the apathetic monster he is, Kirill simply turns and takes a few steps, then starts digging in the snow.
I watch from afar, my blood boiling, not only at the turn of events but at him. How could he envision leaving without even saying goodbye to the people who took us in and asked for nothing in return?
Soon after, he retrieves our weapons and combat gear that he wrapped in the waterproof backpack. He throws mine near me and I pick them up.
“Get dressed.”
My fingers tighten around the material, and I want to punch him in the face, but I can’t. One, Kirill has zero appreciation for emotional outbursts, so it would backfire.
Two, he disappeared behind a tree.
My movements are jerky and mad as I remove the coat and start to dress in the surprisingly dry clothes. Because he was smart about hiding them. Kirill is always thinking ahead, never wavering or taking a shortcut from his original path.
As I wrap the bandages around my chest, I’m fuming while nearly freezing to death, which isn’t a fun combination.
With every wrap, I feel like I’m locking myself inside again. It’s only been a few days, but I easily got used to being a woman and also feeling like one.
Going back to my ‘man’ look leaves a weird taste at the back of my mouth. Despite living like this for so long. Will I ever go back to being a woman?
“You done?”
A chill sneaks over me as Kirill comes into view. Gone are the glasses and the somewhat tamed look. He’s now back to being the unforgiving captain with nerves of steel.
“Almost.” I lower my head to focus on tying my combat boots.
My shoulder strains with the angle, and I wince.
Kirill lifts up my shoulders so that I’m standing. “I’ll do it.”
“There’s no need—”
“If you rip your stitches before we even leave, I’ll be the one who’s burdened. Stay still.”
I bite my lower lip to stop myself from hurling curses at him. It’s like he’s making it his mission to sound like an asshole. Though, it probably comes naturally.
Efficiently and in record time, he finishes tying the laces and rises to his full height.
“I’m going back,” I announce.
“You’re what?” I don’t miss the annoyance in his tone.
“I have to bid Nadia and Nicholas goodbye.”
“What part of ‘that’s an order’ do you not understand, soldier? We are not going back, and that’s final.”
“I won’t see them. I can’t, anyway, when I’m looking like this, but I can at least slip them a note of thanks.” I step closer, keeping my head up. “Not only did they help me, but they also helped you and offered you warmth and shelter from a deadly storm. How are you supposed to protect your soldiers if you can’t display gratitude to your benefactors?”
Kirill lifts his hand. “You little—”
I close my eyes, waiting for him to punch me for the insolence.
I wait and wait.
And wait…
But the impact doesn’t come.
When I open them again, he’s staring at me as if he wants to slash my throat open, but his hands are at either side of him.
“Five minutes, and then we leave.”
“Okay!” I jump, smiling, but it soon disappears when it’s faced with his complete apathy.
Damn tyrant.
I pick up my rifle and run in the direction of the house, thinking about the words I’ll scribble on the note.
Thank you for everything (minus the needles). If I have a chance, I’ll come again for those cooking lessons and—
My feet come to a halt when I arrive at the backyard. Silence.
Long, overbearing silence. No chopping of wood. No sound of Nadia’s voice.
It’s an eerie type of silence.
Something is wrong.
“Get down!” Kirill shouts as someone opens fire in our direction.
