“My beautiful kiska,” he whispered in Russian as he began to move inside her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. She covered his face with delicate kisses as they fused together into something greater than either of them alone could ever be. The weariness of past days and months bled away, and she unfurled in his arms, a flower soaking up his sunlight.
Hypnotized by his touch, his kiss, his body, she was swept to a height of pleasure that was so powerful, she could only desperately gasp as she feared she might die. Her mind blanked as she crested, and every dark corner of her memories were bathed in white light. She was undone, unmade, and reforged by sheer pleasure and love for this man.
He held her, his forehead pressed to hers as he gasped for breath. His body trembled as he slowly set her down on her feet. The hot shower rushed over them as he withdrew from her body but kept her tight in his arms.
She raised her gaze to his, droplets coating her lashes. She wiped a hand across her eyes and stared at him in awe, and he at her.
“I love you,” she said. She waited for him to say it back, a brief flicker of fear trespassing through her that he might not feel the depth of what she felt for him. He cupped her face, his thumbs smoothing over her cheeks as he smiled. The tiny lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled.
“I have never not loved you, my little kiska. From the moment I first saw you. You were mine, and I was yours.” This was his way of saying he loved her, and it was everything she had ever dreamed of.
Elena laid her head against his chest. For the first time, she knew she was whole. Not because she loved someone or was loved back, but because she had embraced herself, broken pieces and all, and put herself back together into something more beautiful. Now she had a life again and someone to share it with.
She wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.
Royce met Hans Brummer at the private airfield just as the sun was beginning to set. The middle-aged bodyguard was like an older brother to him, and he smiled as Royce got out of his car. Behind Hans, the private jet was fueled and ready to go.
“Everyone here?” Royce asked as he shook his friend’s hand. Hans may have had gray streaking his temples, but he was the best man Royce knew on this side of the ocean who could be trusted with the mission ahead.
“Everyone except Fenn, who’s already en route. He was in Denver. Cody’s packed up everything we need. We pulled out all the stops and brought the fun guns.” Hans’s tone was light, but Royce knew the man was taking the situation seriously. He knew better than anyone what kind of men they would be facing. They weren’t the spoiled minions of Russian mobsters like Vadym’s men. They would be dealing with the most dangerous men Russia had to offer.
“Thank you, Hans,” Royce said. “You should be enjoying retirement, not gearing up for another fight.”
He knew Hans was ready to retire. The man had become a private bodyguard for Royce’s childhood best friend, Emery Lockwood, when Emery and his twin brother, Fenn, had been kidnapped. For twenty-five years Fenn’s disappearance had never been solved, and Emery had Hans as his faithful shadow to protect him in case danger struck again. But the Lockwood twins had been reunited, and the danger to Emery was over. The bodyguard had every right to ride off into the sunset in pursuit of the life he had sacrificed to protect Emery.
Hans shrugged. “Elena Allen deserves her life back. She’s a good kid. No one should take anything else away from her, especially because of her ancestry.”
“I agree.” Royce followed him up the steps into the plane. The cabin had a limited number of seats compared to a commercial jet, designed for comfort and pleasure. Two men were already seated at a table. The dark-blond man was Emery Lockwood, and the one who sat across from him was Wes Thorne. Both were Royce’s age, in their early thirties.
“Royce,” Emery called out as he spotted him.
Hans nodded at the men before sitting in another part of the plane, across from a man in his midtwenties with shaggy blond hair. That was Cody Larson. The man who had saved their lives that day in Ulaanbaatar. Cody looked more like a surfer ready to hit the beach than a man raised on the inner-city streets of Chicago. He knew more about tech than anyone Royce had ever met.
The flight attendants closed the door and started securing the cabin for takeoff. Royce grabbed an empty seat beside Wes and across from Emery.
“Kenzie all settled in Manhattan?” Emery asked.
“Yes, thank you for that. I feel better knowing she’s at your penthouse with Sophie.”
Emery nodded. “Of course. Sophie’s glad to help. With all her media contacts, they’ll be ready to launch Elena’s story the moment you give the word.”
“Speaking of,” Wes cut in. “How is Miss Allen? Emery told me that she . . .” Wes cleared his throat. “He told me what happened.”
Royce curled his hands into fists. Thinking of what Elena had endured at Vadym’s hands still haunted him. Emery and Wes were like him, Doms who shared a natural protectiveness for
