Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“God, this is so goddamn sweet.” He groans. “God, I love you, Zoya.”
He pulls out slowly, carefully, his every movement tender.
And then he’s back, inside me again, but not just physically. Emotionally. Entirely.
I’m so tired.
My eyes flutter shut as he gently cleans me. Like I’m precious. Like I matter.
My head finds its place on his shoulder, and my limbs go weightless, floating in the afterglow.
I want him. God, I want him.
I don’t know what he’s done to me.
I close my eyes and drift toward what I hope is dreamless peace.
Chapter 19
SEAMUS
She falls asleep beside me.
But I can’t sleep. I hold her against me, feeling her soft breathing. While she sleeps, I think about what’s coming next.
Then she wakes and rolls over, one eye open.
“We should run,” she says quietly. “Hide. Go somewhere no one can ever find us again. No one. Just us, Seamus.”
“Zoya,” I whisper.
“If we left now, we could run to the ends of the earth. Somewhere far, where they’d never suspect we’d go.”
I hate to disappoint her, god knows I do, but I have to. Not that I don’t want exactly what she’s suggesting.
She sighs like she already knew. Like she was just waiting for me to admit it.
“I knew you’d say no.”
“There are too many people depending on us,” I tell her, and it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
I think of them all, my brothers, my sisters, my men. My dad. My mom. Her family too. Even if she doesn’t know it yet, they’re part of this. Part of us.
I have to end the tyranny. I have to bring peace.
We have to end this war and break the chains we were both born into.
Our families, hers and mine, stand a better chance if I succeed.
I press a kiss to her shoulder.
“I need to put my baby in you, Zoya. And I need to protect you, now more than ever.”
“Do you think you’ll get arrested again?” she asks, her voice small and quiet.
“I’m wanted by the Russian mob,” I say, flat, deadpan. “So yeah. We’re not the kind of people who get to escape easily.”
“No,” she agrees softly.
I run my fingers through her hair, maybe to soothe her. Maybe to calm myself.
“I want you,” I tell her. “No matter what.”
“Where would you go,” she asks, “if we could?”
But she doesn’t wait for me to answer.
“Me, I’d go somewhere tropical,” she says, her voice turning wistful. “I’ve never had a tropical vacation. I think I’m due for one.”
I smile at that, at how fast she answered.
“And what would you do on this vacation?”
“I’d lie on a white sand beach and soak in the sun,” she murmurs, her eyes distant. “Then, when I got too hot, I’d dive into crystal-clear water. I’d collect seashells and make crafts. I’d drink pretty cocktails with little umbrellas.”
She pauses.
“I’d buy gifts for everyone. For my family. For the little ones. Jewelry, probably. Jewelry I’d never wear to anything fancy, but I’d have it, and it would sparkle.”
She trails off.
The weight of it all lands heavy on her chest and mine too. The reality claws its way in, cold and merciless. If we run… there’s no beach waiting for us at the end. No fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas. No family to get dumb souvenirs we would laugh about later.
“I’d eat food I’ve never tried before,” she adds, quieter now.
“What about you?” she asks.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I smile, soft and crooked, dragging my hand slowly across the warm, bare skin of her back.
“As long as I was with you, I think I’d be happy. I’d be a lucky bloke.”
She smiles, then lets out a yawn so delicate it tugs at something deep in me.
“You’re tired, love.”
“I am,” she whispers. “So tired.”
“All right,” I murmur, brushing her hair back. “Then what I want you to do is close those pretty eyes and try to sleep some more, okay? We’ve got a busy day ahead of us, and I want you to get your beauty sleep. Be my good girl who rests when she’s told.”
“All right,” she says, the words already slurred, fading fast. “I will.”
“We’ve got that tropical beach in our sights,” I whisper against her temple, pressing a soft kiss to her skin like a promise I can’t guarantee.
“Okay,” she breathes out, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “Done.”
And a few minutes later, I know she’s really out this time.
And god help me, I want to believe in that dream right along with her.
“Zoya,” I whisper… but she doesn’t answer.
No response, no movement, not even the twitch of a finger. Just the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing, heavy and deep. Her body finally letting go, finally giving itself permission to rest.
I stay right where I am, wrapped around her like armor, letting her warmth seep into me, like maybe it'll fill all the cold, cracked places I’ve kept hidden.