Prime Target (17 page)

Stiffly, she crosses the small space between us, wincing as I begin to wipe the dried blood from her wounds. When I dip the cloth in rubbing alcohol and make another pass, her eyes fill with tears. But other than the initial hiss of pain, she doesn’t react at all. This is not good. Not good in the least.

“No stitches,” I say, relieved. “But if you did need them, I could do it.”

“Of course you could,” she says.

Ignoring that little dig, I examine the rest of her face. “Your lip is more crusted blood than actual wound, and the scrape above your eye will heal fairly quickly.” Lightly running two fingers over the bruise along her cheek, I say, “This will take a while. I’m sorry.”

She grabs my hand and flings it away. “Stop.”

“I won’t touch you there again. Give me your wrists.”

“No.” Taking a step back, she grabs a towel and wraps it around her.

“You need medical attention, love. Your wrists are practically shredded. Let me help you,” I say as gently as possible. “I promise to be very careful with your wounds.” I can’t promise for it to be pain free, because the skin on her wrists is raw.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Don’t touch me
anywhere
again.”

“What did Viktor tell you?”

Her gaze skitters away. “It’s not just what he told me.”

Unease grabs hold of me. “Then what is it?”

“Pictures,” she rasps, fat tears rolling down her cheek. “He made me look at picture after picture of the people you killed. There was a woman—she looked like she was sleeping, except her head was at the wrong angle.”

“Fuck.” I move toward her and she backs up, her hands coming between us, as if to protect herself from me. I freeze, letting my arms hang loosely at my sides.

“He said those people had done nothing wrong. That you killed them for money.”

“Every single one of them deserved to die,” I say softly, lifting my chin. Shame washes over me. I flex my fingers. “However, I
was
paid to end their lives.”

Her gaze returns to mine. “How could you? Why wouldn’t you just turn them over to the authorities, if they deserved to die?”

“The authorities?” Shaking my head, I let out a harsh laugh. “Love, some of those people
were
the authorities.” I hold up my hands, palms facing out. “I am what I am, Everly, but I do not murder the innocent.”

She locks in on my hands. “Your tattoos—are those for all the people you…” she swallows, “…
killed
?”

Wordlessly, I nod. “It lets others know what I’ve done, and to stay away.”

“Except me,” she says. “Except stupid, gullible me who thought your tattoos were hot.”

I open my mouth to speak but she forestalls me with a look.

“Please leave me alone. I need time to process everything and figure out the truth.”

“Fine. If you want the truth, simply ask, and I will give it to you. But in the meantime, I’m here if you need me.”

Her chin tilts up. “I won’t need you.”

“As you wish.” I stride out of the bathroom, intent upon drinking myself into a stupor, but the sound of her crying reaches me before I get to the bedroom door.

I can’t just leave her, not like this. Sinking to the floor, I listen to her sob. Watch and wait, until I hear water running and nothing else. But I don’t leave until I hear her rummaging around the bathroom, and even then I lean against the outer wall of the bedroom and wait. When all is quiet, I slip into the room and find her in bed, asleep. A single lamp is on, whether on purpose or by accident, I do not know.

There is a light knock on the door and I turn to see Gustav standing there. “Can I be of further assistance?” he asks. “I’ve already prepared the blue room for your guest.”

“Thank you.” Striding out of the room, I close the door behind me. “My guest will make use of this room instead.”

“Then I bid you good night.”

“Good night, Gustav,” I say, watching as he hurries down the ornate hallway. It is lined with paintings from the last century. Former owners of the house and their children, I suppose. I’ve never bothered to check.

I start in the opposite direction. Everly isn’t the only one in need of a shower or rest. Or time to sort things out.

T
welve hours later,
Gustav shows Everly into the study. I don’t bother to stand, mostly because my pride is damaged.

As she walks to me, I study her intently, taking in every nuance—from the hitch in her gait to the gauze wrapped around each wrist. My gaze lingers on the bruise marring her smooth cheek. A part of me wants to go to her and examine her wounds again. But I know that would be a waste of time.

“Did you not see the clothes I had brought up for you?” I ask.

She’s wearing my robe, the sleeves turned up several times. Her bare feet peek from the bottom hem as she walks. In any other situation, I would find her charmingly seductive.

“Sorry I took over your bedroom,” she says, her eyes dull as she avoids answering my initial question. “I didn’t know.”

“No worries. I slept elsewhere,” I say from my spot in the club chair by the massive window. I glance at the garden, at the maze I have never walked, and take another shot of vodka. “Shall I pour one for you?”

“Pass the bottle,” she orders, and I hold it out to her.

Our fingers touch, and sparks ignite at contact. I want her. I fucking
need
her, but I know without a doubt, I can’t have her.

She takes a long drink, coughs, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I hold out my glass and she refills it, then takes the seat across from me.

The robe parts as she crosses her legs, baring soft, slender thighs. I’m grateful there are no bruises there, unlike on her upper arms and along her cheek.
Damn you to hell, Viktor.

I clench my glass and hear a crack.

“I swear to God, Roman, if you break that thing and start bleeding, I will hit you with this bottle. I am done with blood.
Done
.”

My gaze jerks to her face—there’s no give, no equivocation in her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy from anger and good vodka. But she is still far too pale. Forcing myself to ease up on the glass, I gesture to the plates of food on the table beside me. They are close enough for her to reach.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“Did you make all this yourself?” she asks, picking up a small sandwich.

“No.” I set the glass down. “My staff did.”

She takes a bite and closes her eyes. “Too bad you couldn’t have been this honest with me before we got on a plane.”

“My deception was necessary to keep you alive.”

Her eyes open. “While I don’t like it, I get that you had to lie to me to protect your identity. But what I don’t understand is why you lied to me about how you felt.”

I dig my fingers into the leather arms of my chair. “What happened between us was real.” But it can never happen again. I must distance myself as much as possible, until everything has played out and I can return her to the States.

“So you say.” She takes another drink, her throat working as she swallows.

My jaw works. “It’s the truth.”

“So you say,” she repeats.

I try a different tactic. “Is there anything you would like to know about me?”

She lets out a
hmmpf
. “The first thing that comes to mind is how many other women have you done this to.”

“You’re the first.”

Her eyes widen fractionally, and then narrow to green slits. “So you—”

“I swear to God, Everly, if you say that one more time, I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank you. I’m done with your anger, however righteous.” I lean forward, but to her credit, she doesn’t shrink from me. Not at all. A bit of pride swells inside my chest. Viktor has not permanently damaged her spirit. Lowering my voice, I say, “I want you to understand. I want you to know the truth. But it’s hard, damn it.”

“How so?” she asks, her face expectant and skeptical.

Standing, I walk to the fireplace and begin to pace, my hands laced behind my back. “The only time I’m allowed to be completely honest, to be myself, is in my head. That’s it. Every honest thought, every bloody word is censored before I speak.”

I pause and look at her. “Until you, that is. You came into my shop with your smiles and laughter…and hope for something I could never fully have.” I slam my hand down on the mantel of the fireplace. “Bloody hell, woman. You fucking
ruined
me.”

Everly stands up and for a split second, I think she’s leaving the room. Instead she walks to me, her steps unhurried. She touches my arm and the muscles bunch up. “You weren’t the only one who was ruined. You weren’t the only one who was given hope.”

Turning, I cup her face in my hands, willing her to understand. “I never meant for this to happen, and not because there’s something wrong with you. Because I’m not the kind of man you deserve.” Though I’d break every single bone of the next man she welcomes into her bed. I know what’s good for her, but I’m a selfish bastard. Actually, I’m just a bastard raised by an entire band of bastards.

She licks her lips, and I inch closer, dipping my head.

“Roman—Nikolai, I—”

“The name you feel most comfortable saying is the one I will always answer to,” I say against her skin.

“What I said earlier, when we got here, about not wanting you…”

I nod, afraid to break this spell we’re both under.

“I lied.” Slowly, her robe begins to open, and then slide down her shoulders.

“A
re you sure?”
I ask.

She nods, her hands going to the hem of my t-shirt and lifting it up. “I’m positive.”

Releasing her, I raise my arms and allow her to undress me.

Soon, her lips replace her hands. Soft kisses rain down on my skin, reminding me of our first date. I’m at her mercy right now, even while my body is screaming at me to dominate her.

Forcing myself to allow her to take the lead isn’t easy. It’s pure torture. I can’t allow this to happen. I just can’t. “Even though I’ve killed people?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She tilts her head to one side, her hair sliding over one bare shoulder. “Does it matter why?”

It shouldn’t, but it does. I should keep my mouth shut and give in to her. “Yes, it matters.”

“What if I don’t want to explain why?” she asks, the look on her face growing uncertain. Perhaps now she’ll reconsider her plan of seducing me. “Maybe I
can’t
explain why. Maybe I just know what I want.”

Her fingers trail down my chest, lower still to my abs, which contract in response to her light touch. Looking down at her, I stare at the white strips on her wrists as she unbuttons my pants and shoves them down. They are reminders of her time away from me. Reminders of what Viktor did to her. She could have died.

“Then don’t, love,” I murmur while taking off my boxer briefs. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Scooping her into my arms, I kneel on the floor and lay her on the white rug in front of the fireplace. Flickering light plays over her golden body as I sit back on my legs, simply admiring her.

Her nipples harden under my watchful gaze. Unable to resist the temptation, I lean over her, taking one into my mouth and sucking. Biting. Kissing. Licking. I give the same attention to the other one, until she is moving restlessly under me.

I blaze a wet path down her body, pausing at the soft swell of her stomach to kiss her there. The tops of her thighs, her plump hips. The dimples in her knees. All the way down to her ankles.

Taking a foot in my hand, I rub the instep and she rewards me with a sweet moan. I slip my hands up the backs of her legs, kneading the muscles as I travel higher and higher.

By the time I’m between her sweet thighs, her legs are parted and her voice is breathless when she asks, “See anything you like?”

I peer up at her through my lashes. “Everything.” Lowering my head, I part her soft curls to reveal her wet, hot flesh. “Try not to bring the house down with your screams, yeah?”

Her hands fist in my hair when my tongue grazes her swollen clit. She tastes divine. With slow, leisurely licks, I drive us both mad.

“Are you on birth control?” I ask, lifting my mouth slightly. I lick my lips, savoring each drop of her that still clings.

She nods and licks her own lips. “I get a shot every six months.”

“I want to—”

Pushing me back, Everly straddles my lap, wet curls brushing my hard cock. “Do it.” She runs her hands down my back and kisses my neck. The hard points of her nipples scrape my chest. “Make me yours.”

“You already were mine.” Cupping her hips in my hands, I position my cock at her entrance and her head falls back, eyes closing in pure pleasure. “You’ll always be mine.”

“
Now
, Roman.”

“Look at me.” Her eyes fly open. “Know who’s possessing you,” I say as I begin to ease inside. “Who owns you and will raze an entire civilization to keep you safe.”

She gasps, her thighs widening. I rock into her, taking my time and keeping her on edge, not allowing her to sink down on me.

“Know that I would lie, steal, and cheat for you.”

“You don’t have to,” she says. Her fingers dig into my biceps, a welcome stinging pain.

Not until I’m fully seated to the hilt do I speak again. It’s nearly impossible to do so. There is nothing between us. Only the hot, wet clasp of her inner walls. Our bodies are perfectly aligned with one another.

“But I would, love. I would use
everything
at my disposal.” My heart slams against my chest as she leans up to kiss me.

I kiss her back, mindful of her injuries. Her tongue traces the seam of my mouth and I open slightly, but that’s all she needs. Boldly, her tongue touches mine, strokes and caresses.

Rolling my hips, I thrust into her, hard enough to make her breasts bounce. I palm her ass and guide her movements, slow and then fast. Hard, then soft. Our bodies become slick. She’s as hungry for me as I am for her.

We can’t stop kissing, can’t stop touching and stroking. “Please,” she whispers in my ear. “I need you.”