“Call them, then come to bed. I need one more night with you before all this happens . . .”
He stepped into the hall and called Emery, Wes, Fenn, Hans, and Cody. His friends had all been through hell in the last year, but they would come whenever he needed them. That’s what friends were for. They would help you bury a body—or in this case, take on a small Russian army to save the descendent of Anastasia Romanov.
16
Dimitri parked his car outside of a bar in town. He didn’t get out—he simply stared at the merrily lit windows—yet his thoughts were miles away. He didn’t want to admit his friends might be right, that they had to set a trap, and then he would get Elena away to safety. It was the only real option they had.
He couldn’t let her go to New York alone, nor could he let her stay and fight. It was too dangerous, and too much depended on her. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a long moment before he cursed and turned the engine back on.
He drove back up to the cabin. As he entered the front door, he heard his friends still talking. They quieted as he stepped inside. He fumbled nervously with the keys, not quite ready to meet their eyes. He had never really fought like that before with them.
He cleared his throat. “I . . .”
Nicholas smiled. “Go find your little czarina. She is worried about you.”
Leo and Maxim nodded, giving silent signals of forgiveness for his outburst. But he still owed them the words.
“You were right . . . about the plan, and about my father. I didn’t want to betray you. I didn’t want to leave you.” What he couldn’t say was that he didn’t want to leave them to die. He didn’t want to be forced to choose between them and Elena.
“We know,” Maxim replied with a rare smile. “Now go reassure your kiska that you are well.”
Dimitri tossed the car keys at Leo, who set them on the counter before Dimitri walked to the master bedroom. He knocked lightly on the closed door, and it was flung open. Elena leapt into his arms. He chuckled as he caught her. She wrapped her arms so tightly around his back he almost felt his ribs crack.
“Where the hell did you go?” she demanded. Her tone was hot with anger, but she didn’t release him.
“Just to town and back.”
She lifted her head, glowering at him. “You can’t just disappear like that. People worry.”
“Did you worry?” His tone was gentle as he brushed the backs of his knuckles over her cheek.
Her lashes fluttered down. “What do you think?” Then she looked back up and pinned him with a glare. “Don’t you dare do that to me ever again.”
“I won’t,” he promised. He moved them both into the bedroom and closed the door behind them, locking it.
“You should shower.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom.
He couldn’t disagree. He had sparred with her that afternoon and needed to wash off his sweat, but he sensed that she was after something more now than simply getting him clean. He allowed her to lead him into the expansive master bathroom, aware of the fact that she wore only a bathrobe. He played with the terrycloth sash that was wound around her waist.
“You haven’t showered yet either?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to wait for you.”
There was such power and emotion behind those last two words, for you. Now he understood. She had made her decision, and he would give her what she needed and wanted.
Dimitri held his breath as she moved closer to him, pulling at his sweater. He removed it and let it fall to the ground at his feet. Her hands touched his chest, gently exploring him as she raised her head.
“Please be with me tonight, sir.”
That single word turned something on inside him, something he had done his best to bury since Utah.
“This is what you truly want, kiska?”
She nodded. “I have been thinking a lot about who I am, who I want to be.” She kept her hands on him as she spoke. “I was so broken after . . .”
He caught her chin. “You were never broken, kiska.”
“You keep saying that, but you’re wrong.”
“Kiska . . .”
“No, listen, you’re missing the point. To keep insisting that I was never broken, it’s like . . . well, it’s like being broken is a mark of shame. But it’s not.” She smiled, a soft smile that contained a deeper understanding. “Have you ever heard of kintsukuroi?”
Dimitri shook his head. He was a little distracted by the feel of her touching him. No woman had ever affected him like this. He belonged to Elena, now and always. She continued to speak as her hands coasted up his shoulders to touch the sides of his neck.
“Kintsukuroi is a Japanese art where you take something broken and repair it with gold—like a shattered piece of pottery. You collect the pieces and fuse them together with gold or silver lacquer. Part of the art of it is the acknowledgment that something can become more beautiful for having been broken. Now that simple pot or base is infused with the might and the glitter of gold.”
He gazed at her, spellbound by her words.
“I am done pretending that I wasn’t broken. Vadym broke me. But I put myself back together, better, stronger, more beautiful. You helped me achieve that.” She caressed his neck with light fingertips. “And now I want you, sir. I want you desperately.” She met his eyes. “Be the last piece of gold that puts me back together.”
She stepped away from him, but he caught her, holding her close when she would’ve moved toward the shower. He nuzzled her neck, feeling the thrum of her pulse against his lips.
“You are my endless wonder,” he murmured in her ear before he claimed her lips.
It was a kiss that infused his heart with gold. This kiss burned through him brighter than any star, deeper than
