while.

He probably had been.

The man could move without making a sound. If he didn’t want her to know he was around, then she wouldn’t know. It was as simple as that. She had become accustomed to it now, or as much as she ever would be, anyway.

It was his thing.

What could she do?

“A scared mouse?” she asked, arching a brow and giving him a look. She even bared her teeth in a bit of a smirking sneer just for good measure. She was so far from a frightened little mouse now. “Is that really how you see me, Pavel?”

He grinned right back. “See, now you look like the cat waiting for the mouse.”

“Who do you think the mouse is?”

“Is it me?”

“It might be if you keep calling me the mouse.”

His laughter colored up the apartment, and Viktoria relaxed a bit. She knew things were difficult for him sometimes.

He’d spent so much time hidden away from the rest of the world that he didn’t always know what to do … or what he should do, rather. He was still getting accustomed to being free, in a sense.

He was learning the world.

With her.

“You went to see Konstantin today, huh?” she asked.

Pav’s expression melded into calm nothingness. “I did.”

“Why?”

“I work for him, Vik.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Pav shifted on his feet and tipped his head down so that she couldn’t see his eyes. She didn’t like that—all of his truths always shined back in his gaze, and like this, she couldn’t tell if he was trying to hide something from her, or not.

“And what if it wasn’t the only reason I went to speak with him?”

“Care to tell me what or why?” she returned.

Pav chuckled. “You won’t drop this?”

“Nope.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, straightened up against the entryway, and met her gaze again. Finally, she felt like she could see the truth staring back at her.

It spelled out love.

Like it always did.

“It wasn’t about work,” he said.

“No?”

Pav shook his head. “No.”

“Was it about me?”

“Perhaps.” Pav grinned a bit and shrugged. “I’m not very good at this thing, you know?”

“At what?”

He pulled a hand from his pocket to gesture between the two of them, saying, “This.”

She disagreed.

Entirely.

“You’re very good at this, Pav.”

“I don’t always know what’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t ask you for perfect. I asked for you.”

Pav cleared this throat, and his tongue peeked out to wet his lips. “I thought … maybe I had to make sure you were going to be mine. Forever, yes? I thought I had to ask.”

Viktoria blinked. “You asked Konstantin that?”

He tipped his head to the side, muttering, “He said I didn’t have to ask him.”

“Because you should already know the answer, Pavel.”

Or, that’s how she felt.

Pav’s gaze lifted again and nailed into hers. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

She didn’t even think about it before she crossed the room, reached up to catch his face in her palms, and then she pulled him in for a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to answer her back—his lips worked hard against hers while he took her breath away all at the same time.

Yeah, he was still figuring things out.

About the world.

About life.

About himself.

But her?

Them?

She didn’t ever want him to wonder.

Never.

Viktoria pulled away from the kiss, but still stayed close enough that their lips grazed as she spoke. “You don’t have to ask anyone anything—I am always going to be yours. And you’re mine. I decided.”

Pav smirked. “That’s how it is, then?”

“That’s how it is.”

“I like that.”

She winked. “You better.”

• • •

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About the Author

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, three cats, and four dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, a snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something ... when she can find the time.

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