Mal and I lie entangled in bed in the dark for a long time before he finally speaks.
“Are you all right?” He sounds somber. Like he’s worried he did something wrong.
“You didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Your throat…?”
“You could’ve squeezed twice as hard, and I wouldn’t have felt it.”
He exhales in relief. “Breath play can be dangerous. We should’ve talked about it first. Had a safe word.”
Dear god, hearing him say “breath play” and “safe word” makes my imagination run wild with every kinky scenario people can engage in, in pairs, trios, or groups.
I picture him in the middle of a writhing pile of naked bodies at a sex club, godlike and glistening as he fucks every random hole in sight, and feel as if I might faint.
“Here’s a safe word for you: I have zero interest in hearing about your past sexual experiences. The thought of you doing what we just did with another woman makes me want to bury a hatchet in your chest and set you on fire.”
After a moment, he says, “That’s too long for a safe word. Hard to remember in the heat of the moment.”
I hear laughter in his tone, the bastard.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” he murmurs, squeezing me. “You’re jealous.”
“Pfft.”
“Deny it all you want, but I didn’t mention anything about my past. I simply suggested we needed to communicate about what we do together, then suddenly you were threatening me with death.”
Embarrassed because he’s right, I hide my face in the crook of his neck. When he softly kisses my throat, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I know exactly how you feel.”
“You do?”
“Why don’t you bring up your blond bodyguard again and see how I take it?”
That dials down my aggravation to a manageable degree. I burrow closer to him, closing my eyes. “No, thanks. But can we talk about what happened at dinner?”
He peppers soft kisses down my throat and along my collarbone. “What happened is that you sassed the king of the Bratva, and he loved you for it.”
“You’re sure he won’t change his mind later?”
“I’m sure. The man hasn’t had anyone dare to even raise their voice to him for twenty years. He found your angry little speech very entertaining.”
“I can’t figure out why he was so mad at you, though.”
He pauses kissing me to say thoughtfully, “Me neither.”
“Are you not allowed to kidnap people?”
He chuckles. I take that as a no.
“What were you guys talking about in Russian?”
“Mostly business.”
“Did he tell you how he found out about me?”
“No. I asked if it was the man he sent me to in New York to help me find Declan, but he said it wasn’t. Said it was a dead man, an old friend of his who knew everyone and everything.”
“A dead man? Does he spend a lot of time on a Ouija board talking to spirits?”
“I didn’t understand it either, but Pakhan said he wanted to introduce me to him.” His voice drops. “Now that he’d met you.”
“Me? What do I have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is all very strange.”
“Yes. Especially the part where he told me to take a vacation.”
I lift my head and look at him. “A vacation?”
“A month off,” he replies, nodding.
“Has he ever given you time off before?”
“Never.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“I do.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
He smiles. “Take a month off.”
A dangerous thrill goes through me, like I’m standing at the edge of a perilously high cliff, looking down. Aiming for nonchalant, I say, “Where will you go?”
His smile is indulgent. “Look at you, trying to act innocent. You know exactly where I’ll go.” He presses the softest of kisses to my lips. “And with who.”
“To the cabin,” I whisper, kissing him back. “With me.”
Rolling on top of me, he takes my mouth in a deep, hot kiss, curling his hand around my throat as he does it. “Yes, with you,” he says, voice husky. “My mouthy little captive.”
I wrap my arms around his back, shivering in delight at the feel of his big, strong body against mine. “Your wrinkled gray tissue someone left in their pocket too long.”
“My stubborn fighter.”
“Your homeless deer mouse with the tiny fang-like tusks.”
“My world.”
It’s said in a murmur as he gazes deep into my eyes with a look of adoration.
I swallow, my heart beating faster. “Can I say something now?”
“No.”
“It’s super complimentary, though. You’ll like it.”
“I already know, baby. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Oh. Okay. So the feeling’s mutual?”
“Fucking hell, woman. Shut up.”
He kisses me again, giving me a very good reason to.
In the morning, we return to the cabin in the woods.
On the drive from the airport down the rutted dirt road, I gather my courage and ask Mal about Spider. I’m hoping since we’re not in bed, he won’t get so mad.
I’m wrong.
As soon as I mention his name, he goes stiff.
“He’s alive.”
“Is he going to stay that way?”
“Not if you keep asking me about him.”
“I’m only asking because you haven’t told me anything. The last I heard, you’d drugged him and told him to leave the country, but he hadn’t.”
He’s silent for a long time. I’m not sure he’ll ever answer me, but then he does, his jaw tight, looking straight out the windshield as he drives.
“He’s still in Moscow. Sniffing around like a dog.”
“What are you planning on doing about him?”
“Nothing.”
I examine his profile, but can’t get a clue to what he’s thinking. It’s like looking at a brick wall.
If the brick wall wanted to smash something, that is.
“I’m sorry that this conversation is pissing you off, but I have to know that he’s going to be okay.”
With slow, precise enunciation, he replies, “Why is that so important to you?”
“Mal, look at me.”
He clenches his jaw instead.
“Come on. Just for a sec.”
He draws an exaggerated breath, exhales, then glances in my direction.
As soon as our eyes meet, I say softly, “I don’t have feelings for him. I never did. I promise you. But I liked him, and he was really nice to me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. Okay?”
He holds my gaze for a moment longer then looks back out the windshield.
We drive for a while in silence. I let him work it over in his head without pestering him, and am finally rewarded when he says grudgingly, “I’ve already put the word out that he’s off-limits. No one’s to touch him. If anything bad happens him, it won’t be our doing.”
Relieved, I scoot across the seat and duck under his arm. Cuddling up to him, I kiss his cheek and whisper, “Thank you, sweetie.”
He says vehemently, “I hate that Irish fucker.”
“I know.”
“So should you. He shot you!”
“It was an accident. I’m sure he feels awful.”
My reply is a disgruntled growl. I kiss his cheek again, and he squeezes me closer into his side.
I decide to leave my questions about Declan’s future for later. In my heart of hearts, I already know the answers, anyway.
If Mal were going to kill Declan, he already would have.
We arrive at the cabin just as Poe is landing on the wood railing on the porch, squawking at us impatiently for treats.
The next few weeks are a blissful dream.
The snow starts to melt in the meadow. A riot of wildflowers springs up from the thawing ground. I perfect my target shooting skills and learn how to shoot a bow and arrow, though only at trees. I even start work on a book, a project I always dreamed of but never had time for.
When Mal asks me what the story is, I tell him it’s about a girl who doesn’t know she’s dead.
“Like that movie,” he says. “I see dead people.”
I smile at him. “No, this is a love story.”
“A love story with ghosts?”
“Keep making that face, and I’ll never let you read it.”
He chuckles, kisses me, and leaves it at that.
We go to bed early and sleep late, sometimes staying in bed all day. We make love on every surface in the cabin, including up against all the walls. I’ve never been happier.
I promise myself that when Mal has to go back to work, I’ll call my sister. I’ll deal with “real” life, but not yet.
For the first time, I’m happy, whole, and completely at peace. I feel like I was wandering lost in a wilderness, but now I’ve been found. I want to live in the cabin in the woods forever.
Until the day Mal goes into town to restock supplies and everything falls to pieces.
I should’ve known something so beautiful was too good to last.
