Damn it all to hell and back. He wanted her. He wanted more of the way he felt when he was around her. Lighter, freer, relieved just the smallest, life-giving amount from the constant suffocating press of his grief. She made him believe it was okay to take a breath, a single in and out of his lungs, without thinking of how he’d utterly failed his kid brothers.
And damn, she was so strong. Despite being locked behind dungeon bars, the first thing she’d asked was if he was okay. Her compassion overwhelmed him again and again. He kept trying to imagine the scene Mikhail had earlier described. Her, feeding him and holding his warriors at gunpoint at the same time. Of course, his men were there for him, but to think he’d met a woman with the mettle to do what she’d done, to stand up for him in a do-or-die situation. He wanted to melt into her, to crawl into his bed with her in his arms, to lay his head on her chest and sleep his pain away.
She was his equal, in every way. No, not true at all. She was so much better than him.
Yeah, and that kind of woman would never want a male so grossly tainted by dishonor.
He dragged his hand through his hair, and the movement of air carried her scent to his nose. Jesus, she was fire wrapped in satin and silk. She touched him and he burned. But it hadn’t been enough. With her, it would never be enough.
And that meant she had to go.
With the Soul Eaters so numerous they were nearly an infestation in Moscow, Saint Petersburg, Nizhny and Perm—not to mention the south of Russia, where cities like Saratov were actually losing population due to the evil ones’ destructive addiction—he couldn’t divide his attention enough to even consider a relationship.
That’s a goddamn lie and you know it.
He could never have someone like Katherine Bordessa, and lose her. Simple as that. And the war was too volatile to chance it.
What a fucking coward he was. No hero material here, that was for sure.
He heaved a sigh. “Fine. Get her out of that damn cell, though. And get her some clean clothes.” With a final glance at the monitor, Nikolai offered a silent apology for the way he’d treated her, then turned his back on her image. “You—” he glared at Leo “—sparring ring, ten minutes.”
*
Voices echoed down the stone hall, but Kate couldn’t really make them out. Well, not since Nikolai had growled out his command to send her back to Moscow.
She thumped her fist against her forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How had she been so stupid? Man, she’d heard of vampires’ allure, how everything around them felt so much more intense. And now she understood it firsthand. He’d made her believe he liked her, cared for her, wanted her. The reverence in his gaze as he healed her arm, the deep rasp of need in his voice as he encouraged her pleasure, the pet names that seemed to communicate affection and familiarity—she’d fallen for every last bit of it.
Worse, she’d thought it all meant something. As if. She thunked her head against the wall behind her and immediately regretted it. The medicine Nikolai had brought had dimmed the ache, but the bump on the back of her head was still sore.
Wrong path, my butt. Leaving the service of the Proffered was the smartest thing she’d ever done. Tonight confirmed it once and for all.
Then why does it hurt so much?
Footsteps approached, diverting Kate’s attention from her self-examination.
Mikhail pushed through the still-open door and looked down at her with those analytical dark brown eyes. Another man entered behind him, thin and kind-faced. “Katherine, I understand Nikolai talked with you about seeing Anton, our doctor.” He gestured to the other man, who smiled and nodded. “So, I’ll leave you—”
“No.”
Mikhail tilted his head. “I don’t—”
“I won’t see your doctor.” She pushed up off the floor, grinding her teeth against the ache in her head.
“Nikolai said you were complaining of a headache after some sort of injury.” Anton said in a calm, even voice. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Skull versus frozen ground. Okay? I’m fine.” She glanced at the man, then back to Mikhail, hating her rudeness but needing desperately to leave from where she wasn’t wanted. “I know he wants me gone, so just give me my things and I’ll be on my way.”
Anton raised his hands. “The king was very clear,” Anton said, apparently leaving it to Mikhail to decide. “He wants me to give her a clean bill of health, but I can’t examine her against her will. I won’t.”
The doctor’s words faded out as her brain focused on the first two that had so casually fallen from his lips.