“I deserve worse.”

  He glances at me. “Have you always been this hard on yourself?” His fingers make tender circles around my ankle. As non-invasive as his touch is right now, it still feels like too much. Too intimate, too…comforting. A comfort I don’t deserve and can’t let myself sink into.

  “Please stop,” I whisper.

  He looks at me, but he doesn’t stop touching me. “Stop what?”

  “That,” I say. “This. All of it. Helping me… Touching me…”

  He withdraws his fingers from my calf. But my relief is short-lived when he slides in next to me. Our shoulders knock against one another as he exhales softly. “You feel guilty?”

  “Of course. Don’t you?”

  It’s ironic how uncloudy those misty blue eyes are right now. “No,” he says.

  And then he kisses me.

  56

  TAYLOR

  I don’t know what’s happening. I can feel him, I’m aware of what he’s doing, but I don’t really know.

  Until I smell him.

  Then the world blooms into color.

  My stomach quivers and my eyes close, and I melt into him. I don’t question or struggle. My mind has been wiped blank and everything boils down to a choice that’s so stupidly obvious that I don’t even know why I’d bother asking it in the first place: to kiss back or not?

  It’s a yes, to say the least. It’s a yes from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. From the whisper of my breath to the deepest, darkest parts of me.

  And as long as I’m united behind this yes, it feels okay. If I can cling to that yes for a little while longer, I can enjoy it more. I can take a little more before I have to give Ilarion Zakharov back to where he truly belongs.

  His tongue tangles with mine as his lips move, soft and tender. He has one hand cupped against my cheek, and it’s like he’s the last thing keeping me upright when the whole damn universe is trying to drag me down into the dirt.

  It’s everything I need.

  Which, in the end, is exactly why I have to push away.

  It’s not far. Just far enough to break the kiss. I’m not strong enough to do much more than that.

  Ilarion looks at me with burning eyes. Everything I’m on fire with is blazing inside of him, too. I don’t even have to ask to know that that’s true.

  “I want you, tigrionok.” His hand drops to my hip. “I’m so fucking tired of denying it.”

  How easy it would be to sink into those words. To forget all the reasons to run and cling to the one reason to stay right here.

  But I can’t.

  I push his hand off my hip and shake my head. “Please, I’m begging you… Don’t. You have to stop touching me. I…I can’t think straight when you touch me.”

  “Taylor—”

  “No!” I gasp, the word bursting out of me like a desperate prayer. “No! It hurts too much.”

  He stops short. His eyes see everything I’m not saying. “Taylor.”

  “I’m having your baby. That’s all there is between us. That’s all.”

  Oh, how I wish that were true. But I don’t sound convincing. Not to God, or to Ilarion, or the little sparrow on the tree above us.

  Even that bird is judging me. I can feel it. I deserve it.

  “The night we met,” I continue in a teary rasp, “that was a mistake. I was vulnerable, and—”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “I…I regret doing that to Celine.”

  “Nothing was done to Celine,” he insists. “You and I met. We had sex. Celine had nothing to do with it. I didn’t know her then. She was still a stranger to me. What happened between us was…singular.”

  I blink, and another tear runs down my cheek. It feels like I’ve shed a lifetime of tears in the span of days.

  And yet I feel like I haven’t really been living—until I met him.

  He leans in, but I brace my palm against his chest and stop him from moving any closer. “No. I can’t—”

  “But you want to.”

  Does he even realize how much he’s asking of me? Does he know that it hurts to breathe near him? Much less admit that I want what belongs to my sister?

  “You were mine before I was ever hers,” he whispers.

  I make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. I make the mistake of falling into his words. Of trusting something that I can barely understand.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he rumbles. “You’re thinking you can’t do this to Celine. That it’s Alec all over again.”

  I suck in my breath, feeling the muscles of my stomach tighten painfully. “She told you everything?”

  There I go again, asking questions I’m not sure I want the answers to.

  “Yes—including the fact that she knew you were not to blame for what happened,” he confesses. “You asked her about her feelings for Alec and she lied to you. When you got involved with him, it hurt her. But you didn’t betray her, Taylor. She knew that.”

  She knew that. She knew, and she still punished me for something she knew I didn’t do. She let our parents punish me for something that wasn’t my fault.

  And she made me carry this guilt ever since.

  I’m surprised at how numb I am to the idea that Celine has fallen into the past tense now. Just like Mom.

  I shake my head. The future that Ilarion is dangling in front of me is way too tempting to let myself reach for it. I want it too bad to hope.

  “What happened back then doesn’t matter. You may not have been her fiancé when we met,” I say. “But you are now. Celine believes that, and that’s what matters.”

  “Celine’s not believing anything anymore.” His eyes are bright in the darkening night. “She’s gone, Taylor. I think we both know that.”

  “She’s still up there, Ilarion. She’s still breathing. I just…I can’t stop thinking… I can’t stop—”

  He places a finger over my lips and my words die against his touch. “You think too much,” he murmurs. “It’s time to quit.”

  “Ilarion—”

  “Listen to me. I’m going to kiss you until you stop thinking. I’m going to touch you until you stop worrying. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you forget everything and everyone else inside that pretty, stubborn, messed-up head of yours—until there’s no one left but you and me.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he growls, grabbing my face and pulling it to his. He doesn’t kiss me, though. His lashes flutter against my cheek as he draws his lips from my jaw up to my ear. “For right now, you’re mine. And mine alone.”

  His voice is deep and gravelly, his tone all possession and power. There’s so much that he has that I lack. His strength, his constancy… He’s so solid and I feel like I’m barely even tethered to the earth anymore. I want so badly to anchor myself to him, just enough to get me through the here and now of all the tides of grief crashing down over me again and again.

  “It’s selfish…”

  “Is it selfish to be honest about what you want?” he demands, his voice silky with resolve. “Because I’ve been lying to myself since I met you. And it’s exhausting.”

  “Lying to yourself?”

  He doesn’t so much as blink. “You know this, Taylor. You’ve known it from the start.” He strokes my cheek again. I shudder beneath his touch. “This isn’t just about the child we’re having together. With or without that baby, we’d still be right here.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’ll say that and more,” he snarls.

  “Ilarion—”

  “You’re mine. You were mine from the beginning. In a way that Celine never was, never will be, never can be. You know that, don’t you?” He looms closer. His face is all I can see. Pure and terrifying and beautiful. “You know you’re mine. And I want to hear you say it.”

  I close my eyes, but not before another tear breaks loose. “I’m… I’m…”

  “Louder.”

  “I’m yours.”

  He nods. “Good. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  Then, finally, his lips press to mine. He steals my breath away as though he’s going to replace it with his. I fall back against the soft grass and he engulfs me.

  He trails kisses down my throat while his fingers undo the buttons of my dress. I gasp and groan softly as my vision of the trees spreading above us blurs into paintbrush strokes of green and black. In the distance, the very last of the sun winks out.

  I hiss when Ilarion peels down my shoulder straps and cold air peaks my painfully hard nipples. He’s on it in an instant, suckling with his hot mouth while he palms the other breast.

  Sliding further down my body, he hikes up my dress until it’s bunched up around my hips. I hiss again.

  He straightens up just long enough to meet my eyes. The hunger in his face frightens me for a moment.

  Mostly because it’s a reminder that there’s no going back. Not for either of us.

  And I don’t think I want to.

  That frightens me even more.

  He pulls my panties down my legs and tosses them aside. He teases a kiss on my left ankle, then works his way up my leg until his tongue passes delicately over my aching center.

  His hands are strong and firm on my hips as he parts me with his lips and laps up my desire.

  I’m seeing stars. Cheesy as that sounds, there’s no other way to describe the explosions of pleasure blinding my vision as he swirls his tongue around and flicks my clit between firm pulls of his soft lips. He laps and sucks and nips until I’m gripping his hair at the roots and shuddering through an orgasm that takes a piece of my soul with it.

  When I finally stop writhing, he rises up over me, blocking the sky and trees from view. I cup his face with my hands and pull him down onto me. I kiss him desperately, the way that I’ve never dared dream I could ever kiss him again.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and he gathers me into his arms to pull me up onto his lap. His cock slides inside me as easily and as naturally as if I were made for him. He grips my ass as I ride him, hard and urgent, hungry and needy, forever and ever.

  I meet his gaze and he meets mine. Neither one of us can look away. I can see his demons wrestling inside those captivating eyes. He’s tried to hide them from me, but I know they’re there.

  That’s what happens when you let someone under your skin. You give them a power over you that can be dangerous and destructive.

  It can also be freeing.

  His jaw clenches as he pulls me harder on him. The muscles of his arms flex as he holds me down on his cock and grinds, ripping a groan from me. I trace a thumb against his lips and he sucks on the tip, making my inner walls ripple tightly up and down his cock with every pulse of that wicked mouth.

  “Fuck…” he growls. Inside of me, I feel him twitch and explode. His fingers dig into my hips almost painfully, but the heat filling me and the orgasm curling my toes erases everything but pure pleasure.

  He collapses back onto the grass, pulling me with him. His arm drapes around my back, his hand strokes along my spine, and my head presses over his heart. I close my eyes and listen as the wild pounding gradually slows to a steady throb.

  He kept his promise. In this moment, no one else exists.

  It’s just him and me.

  57

  ILARION

  She lies on my chest for what seems like forever. I’m not mad about it. In fact, I’m doing everything I can do to keep her from moving.

  The sky overhead is an ocean of black. Only when the first stars begin to light themselves does Taylor lift her head from my chest and look at me.

  She doesn’t quite smile, but it’s the closest thing to it I’ve seen on her in a while. When I run my hand down her back, I realize she’s covered in goosebumps.

  “You’re cold.”

  I wrap my arms around her and roll us onto our sides. The grass is comfortingly soft, but I still wish there was a bed beneath us. And blankets. She deserves both.

  “Better?”

  She nods meekly. “Yes.”

  I’m not used to her being this quiet. I tuck a stray lock of her hair back into place. “Are you okay?”

  She rests her forehead against my chest for a moment. The heat of her exhale blooms across my skin. “I think so,” she says at last. “Just…processing.”

  “Don’t work too hard. You’ll give yourself a migraine.”

  “Things are simpler for you,” she sighs. “You don’t love Celine the way I do.”

  I had hoped for more time to pass before we mentioned her name. But Taylor’s family takes up every second thought in her head. There is no way we could avoid this for long.

  “Maybe not. But I do care about her.”

  She sighs. “Perversely, that helps. Just a little.”

  “I—”

  “Ilarion!”

  Taylor jerks upright and looks around for her clothes in a panic before whoever just yelled my name arrives. “Shit, shit, shit!” I pick up her discarded panties and pass them to her as she scrambles clumsily to her feet.

  She’s just barely rearranged herself to something passable when Dima appears on the curved path encircling the hill upon which the oak tree stands.

  “There you…” He trails off when he notices Taylor. “Oh. Uh, sorry to interrupt—”

  “You weren’t interrupting anything,” Taylor blurts a little too emphatically.

  “Right. Of course not. I just need to talk to Ilarion about something.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” She charges down the stone path, cheeks flaming. I let her walk a few paces ahead of us before I step to Dima’s side.

  “Sorry, man,” he mutters. “I didn’t…um… Was there something—?”

  “What’s going on?” I ask. I try not to sound impatient; I know it must be important.

  But so is holding that beautiful woman in my arms.

  “Benedict got back to us about the meeting.”

  I notice Taylor glancing back over her shoulder at us, but she’s too far away to overhear anything. “And? What’s it going to be?”

  “He’s open to it. He sent along a location as well as his terms for negotiation.”

  “Unreasonable?”

  “More like…suspicious,” Dima hedges. “He wants to meet you at the Hotel Caravaggio tomorrow at ten. You each bring one man. No weapons.”

  “Hm. Reasonable.”

  “Which is exactly why it’s suspicious,” he underscores. “He could be lying.”

  “He probably is. But I’m not going to be the one to break a gentleman’s agreement.”

  Dima snorts derisively. “Benedict Bellasio is no gentleman.”

  I nod, my eyes still fixed on Taylor. She’s just entered the aura of light emanating from the house. Lit like that, I can make out her perfect hourglass silhouette through the soft fabric of her dress. It occurs to me that in only a few short weeks, I’ll be able to see a gentle swell to her belly.

  Despite our romp in the grass being barely minutes-old, that thought stirs up new hunger.

  I sigh. “No, but maybe it’s time I tried to be one.”

  Dima’s eyes veer from me to Taylor. He swallows audibly. “Good luck with that, brother.”

  When we reach the house, Taylor is standing on the deck, her bare feet pale against the dark bluestone. Dima slips in ahead of me. I stay behind for a moment.

  I give her a curious glance. “You planning on camping out on the patio tonight?”

  Her face blushes and her gaze drops. “It’s just a…a nice night,” she mumbles. “Thought I’d enjoy it for a little while longer.”

  I nod slowly. “You don’t want to go inside, you mean.”

  Taylor’s blush deepens, caught in a lie. “It smells like death in there,” she whispers. “At least, it does to me. I’m probably just hallucinating.”

  I watch how her eyes whirr in their sockets with anxiety, how her hands flex and unflex again and again at her sides. The curve of her neck looks so delicate to me, like a swan’s.

  “Have you eaten anything today?”

  She frowns as she considers it. “I can’t remember.”

  “Come on.” I take her elbow, gently but firm enough to erase any argument. “I’ll make you something.”

  Dima is gone when we enter. Taylor perches herself tentatively on a stool at the counter as I go rummage through the pantry and begin to cook.

  The chopping is soothing, meditative. I dice onion and press garlic, relaxing into the simple sensations of the work. It feels good to do something so straightforward.

  Tomorrow, things will get complicated. I will meet with Benedict. Maybe he has Archie, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s dead, maybe he’s not.

  Maybe I’ll survive the meeting.

  Maybe I won’t.

  But when I look up to see Taylor watching me, and when I see her smile—that slow, soft, shy smile that says, I shouldn’t be looking at you like this, but I just can’t stop…

  When I see that…

  …I know that I’d do anything to see it again. And again. And again.

  For as long as we both shall live.

  58

  ILARION

  Dima and I have been sitting directly outside the Hotel Caravaggio in my Porsche. It’s been thirty minutes since we arrived, and ten minutes since Benedict Bellasio pulled into the circular driveway of the grand Italian-style hotel, climbed out of his ostentatious yellow Ferrari, and sauntered into the lobby with a brooding man close on his heels.

  Dima glances at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ‘til the meeting.”

  I nod. “What do you think?”

  “I think just because it seems legit, doesn’t mean it’s going to be,” he grumbles. “Also, I don’t trust that snake.”

  “No, nor do I. But I need to know what he wants.”

  “He wants everything,” Dima says. “More than his fair share. It’s no different than any other time we’ve run into him. Nothing new and nothing good can come of this meeting.”

  “Yes, it can.” While he has a fair point, I’m determined to make something useful out of this dog-and-pony show. “I might be able to negotiate some sort of exchange for Archie.”