I hit the button on the SUV’s console and the gate slides open, my headlights shining through to the dark shrubbery behind. Niko and I are silent. I think we’ve said everything we have to say to each other, and now we’re just out of words.

The palace is up ahead, and in front of it, a roundabout with a fountain in the middle. There’s a person sitting on the edge of the fountain, and as we approach, she stands, squinting into the headlights, her arms folded across her chest.

I smile like a moron. Niko glances at me and then almost smiles.

“She’s good for you, you know,” he says.

“I know,” I say.

I stop the car in front of Hazel. She shades her eyes against the headlights so I cut them and we both get out.

“I’ll walk,” Niko calls.

He nods at Hazel.

“Good work today,” he says.

“You too,” she says, nodding back.

He disappears behind the fountain and then it’s just me and Hazel, standing in the driveway. She takes a deep breath.

“Are you fucking crazy?” she whispers.

“Maybe,” I say.

Then she’s in my arms, squeezing me as hard as she can. I’m holding her against me, her head right under my chin. I kiss her hair. She squeezes harder.

“What the hell,” she says.

I smile into her hair and don’t answer. It’s not a real question, anyway.

“And you wouldn’t even tell me,” she mutters.

“You would have tried to stop me,” I say into her hair.

“Well, yeah,” she says. “I was afraid someone would try to kill you. Which they fucking did.”

“I’m harder to kill than that,” I say. I stroke her hair, and she snuggles into me harder. “Even Pavel is harder to kill than that.”

I don’t say you’re safe and sound so it was worth it, because I know I’m not supposed to base huge decisions like this on one person who’s not even a citizen.

But I finally feel like I did something right, maybe for the first time since my father was killed. The volki are mostly rounded up. I’m in talks with the other side, and they’re reasonable people.

We’ll make progress. We’ll move forward.

Best of all, Hazel’s still here, in my arms, totally unhurt. For that, I’d face down ten more car bombs. Hell, twenty.

I don’t tell her that either.

We stay there for a long time, holding each other. Every so often I kiss her head or stroke her hair, but mostly I like being here, with her, even if we’re just standing still.

“I should go park the car,” I finally say, letting her hair slide between my fingers.

Hazel swallows.

“I love you,” she says.

I smile into her hair, even though she can’t see me.

“I know,” I murmur.

“I thought you were gonna die and I wasn’t going to get to tell you,” she whispers. “And I was so mad at you.”

“Are you still mad?”

“No,” she says. “Just don’t do that again.”

I pull back slightly and take her chin in my hand, tilting her face up.

“Zloyushka, that wasn’t the first dumb thing I did to protect you and it probably won’t be the last,” I say.

“Kostya, you don’t—”

“I didn’t do it because you’re fragile, or because you’re helpless, or because I think you can’t take care of yourself,” I say. “I did it because I love you, and I want to protect you, and you can’t say anything to change that.”

I kiss her before she speak again.

* * *

I pull into the garage and park in an open spot next to the old Soviet troop transport, the one we made out in the night we took the motorcycle to the gray district. It feels like it was a month ago, even though I think it was maybe two weeks.

I cut the engine with my left hand, because Hazel’s still holding my right.

I know the second I’m inside the palace, I’m going to be hit with a barrage of people wanting to talk, shout, chastise me, ask me what to do next, but the truth is that right now I don’t care. I’ll care tomorrow, and the day after that and for the rest of my life, but for the next eight hours, I just want to sleep.

Hazel unbuckles her seatbelt.

Well, first I want Hazel again. Then sleep.

I run my thumb over the back of her hand.

“So pie-eating contests and beer pong are real,” I say.

“Yes,” she says, lifting her eyebrows in a question.

“Do American teenagers really take their cars to scenic overlooks to have sex?” I ask.

She laughs.

“There’s not usually a scenic overlook, but yes,” she says, and lifts my hand to her lips, kissing it as her eyes light up. “European teenagers don’t fuck in cars?”

“Our cars are smaller,” I say.

“So you never got it on in the back of your mom’s station wagon?” she says.

“The Queen doesn’t drive a station wagon,” I tell her.

Hazel rolls her eyes.

“I know I told you I lost my virginity in the back of a Range Rover,” she says.

“You did,” I say.

A small, stupid twinge of jealousy twists in my stomach, and I try to ignore it. She’s mine now. It doesn’t matter who she slept with nine years ago.

“All these cars and you never used one to impress a girl?” she asks. She slips her shoes off and tucks her legs under her, leaning over the center console.

“I don’t need cars to impress girls,” I say. “I’m royalty.”

“Yeah, you bring that up sometimes,” she says, grinning. “All those girls threw themselves at your feet and they never got to ride the royal Maserati?”

I hesitate for a second. I really haven’t had sex in one of these cars, but I also don’t think we’re talking about cars any more.

“Is the royal Maserati my dick?” I ask.

Hazel laughs so hard that for a moment she can’t even talk. Then she kisses the back of my hand.

“Yes,” she says.

She climbs over the center console until she’s straddling me in the driver’s seat. I’m still wearing fatigues, and she grabs my collar and leans over me.

“I was trying to be coy and flirtatious,” she says.

I grab her ass with both hands and squeeze.

“English isn’t my first language,” I tease. “You have to be very literal with me.”

She kisses me hard and I pull her in until she’s right against my already-throbbing erection.

“Okay,” she says, pulling away. “Let’s fuck in the car.”

“That I understand,” I say, and slide my hands under her shirt, kissing her again. She’s warm and soft and even though it’s barely been a day since the last time, I think I craved her this whole time.

“Is this my shirt?” I ask. It’s at least five sizes too big for her.

“I got dressed in the dark,” she says, and starts unbuttoning my shirt. “Oh, and in a panic because you were gone.”

She gets the buttons undone and slides her hands between my camo and my undershirt, looking at me with that heavy-lidded look she gets sometimes.

“It looks good on you,” I say, then pull the shirt she’s wearing over her head. “But better off you.”

I pull her forward again and kiss her, my tongue snaking into her mouth.

“How was that for coy and flirtatious?” I ask.

“Better,” she says, and bites my lip as she pushes my shirt over my shoulders and then yanks my undershirt off, too, running one hand down my torso and grabbing my cock through my pants.

I groan and dig my fingers into the dimples in her back.

“The Maserati’s up and running,” she says.

“We’re not calling my dick that,” I say, and push one thumb under her bra.

She laughs, then takes both my hands and puts them on her back, over the clasp. I sigh, fumbling.

“I can’t even see,” I say, but her head’s on my shoulder and she’s laughing too hard to respond.

A hook pops open.

“Something happened,” I say.

She puts her hands over mine, shooing me away, and one second later her bra’s off. I roll both her nipples between my fingers while I kiss her, and she makes a noise into my mouth that makes my cock twitch.

I move my lips to her jaw and then her neck, her hand in my hair. I’m pushing her backward and she’s yielding, soft and warm and pliant beneath me, so I suck one pebbled nipple into my mouth and bite it gently.

Hazel gasps and I undo her pants with my mouth still on her. I push my hand inside and run my fingers across her clit quickly, just to feel the way her body tenses when I do.

She’s already wet as hell, and it’s not surprising but god I like it, and I slide two fingers into her and flatten my palm against—

A horn sounds, incredibly loud in the quiet garage and Hazel yelps, then hits her head on the roof.

“Shit,” she says, and then starts laughing.

“Are you trying to tell everyone that we’re fucking in an official government vehicle?” I tease.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“I can’t get your pants off in here anyway,” I say, and open the door. She pushes it and hops out, her pants already half off her and pulls them off herself before I’m even out of the car.

Now she’s naked in the garage, between the car we were in and an ugly old Soviet truck. I can’t stop grinning, and especially not as she pushes me against the SUV, kisses me with her tongue in my mouth, undoes my pants and grabs my cock.

She strokes it and I hear myself growl at her and she laughs, biting my lip.

“What?” I ask, my voice hoarse and rough.

“You’re an animal,” she says.

“You have no idea,” I say.

She strokes my cock again. I growl louder, and she presses her lips to my neck then nips at me, and I sigh.

“I’ll be gentle,” she says, her voice buzzing against my skin.

I chuckle.

“You already marked me once,” I tease. “I had to hear about it all day.”

“Sorry,” she says.

“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “I like being yours.”

She kisses my collarbone, my chest, and then she’s on her knees, tugging my pants off. Then her tongue is on the underside of my cock and she’s looking up at me with a wicked look in her eyes.

Fuck, it’s sexy.

She closes her lips around me and I lean my head back against the SUV and groan as she moves her mouth down my shaft and then pulls back, her tongue flat against the underside. I put one hand on her head gently, forcing myself not to grab her hair even though I’ve got the urge.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I say as she does it again and then again, moving slightly faster and harder with each stroke. I look down and watch her, moving her hair out of her face as the heat pools inside me and I hear myself groan.

“Slow down,” I say.

“Hmm?” she says, and her voice vibrates through my cock and straight up my spine. It makes my toes curl.

Hazel pulls back until her lips are just around the head of my cock, her hand around the base, and she looks up at me, swirling her tongue around it for a deliciously long moment before taking me back in her mouth. With every stroke I get closer and closer to the brink, my breath coming in gasps, and just as I’m about to tell her to stop before I come she pulls back slowly and looks up at me, grinning.

She stands and I push her backwards before I even know what I’m doing, until she’s up against the ugly Soviet truck. My hand’s behind her head, in her hair, and I’m kissing her hard.

“You taste like me,” I murmur.

“You’re probably dirty enough to like it,” she says, her fingers on my spine, dragging upwards.

“Probably,” I say, and kiss her again, her body moving against mine as she presses her hands into my lower back, urging me closer.

That’s it. I need her now.

I grab her and lift, and in a moment her legs are wrapped around my hips and my length is pressed against her as she squeezes and I bite her neck because it’s there and she’s driving me wild. Then she wriggles and relaxes, grabs my cock and guides it to her entrance.

“Slow, right?” I tease her.

“Goddammit,” she whispers.

I know what she wants. What we both want. I’ve got the claw marks to prove it.

I slide into her with one hard stroke, and it feels so good it takes my breath away.

“Fuck yes,” she whispers into my ear.

I bite her earlobe and fuck her again, listening to her moan.

“I wanted to do this the night we took the motorcycle,” I murmur. I’m driving into her, hard and deep, trying to control myself but it’s hard. It’s hard as hell.

“Push me against a truck and fuck me?” she asks.

I thrust again and her eyes slide closed, her head back against the green paint.

“Yes,” I say.

“Good,” she says.

She’s slowly falling, because as fun as it is, this isn’t a long-term position. I put her down, and then we’re around the back of the truck and she’s up on the tailgate. I shove the canvas out of the way, and some of it rips, but Hazel kisses me hard and I don’t give a shit about anything else.

I push her gently and she lies back in the truck, one knee over my shoulder and I slide into her again, even deeper than before and Hazel gasps.

“That good?” I growl at her.

“Yes,” she gasps.

I lean over her and try to go slow, one hand on her shoulder. I can’t quite kiss her but I can watch her as she moves, like some kind of beautiful sex goddess.

A sex goddess who I’m balls-deep inside of. I can already feel her muscles clenching and releasing around me, and it’s intoxicating. Even here, in a garage, I feel like I’m utterly lost in her, the only thing that even matters.

“Kostya,” she murmurs.

“Yes?”

“I like saying your name when we’re fucking,” she says.

I thrust again, hard and deep, and she arches into me.

“I like hearing you say it when I’m inside you,” I say.

“Kostya,” she says again, but this time she moans it, and holy fuck. I keep going and she keeps saying my name, and soon there’s fire pooling inside me and I know I can’t last much longer. Not like this, but she’s starting to clench around me, harder and harder.

I slide one hand down until I’m stroking her clit with my thumb. Hazel gasps.

“Fuck, Kostya,” she whispers, and explodes. She clenches around me so hard I see white and I hear her moaning oh fuck yes Kostya as she comes and it feels so fucking good that I go right over the edge, like I’m falling into her endlessly.

Everything goes white for a second and my mind goes totally, completely blank except for this and how fucking good it feels to be here, with her, and how good she feels and how perfect this is.

When I finally stop I’ve got one hand on her stomach and Hazel puts her hand over it, still breathing hard. She swallows, and then we look at each other. I push her knee off my shoulder, kiss her, and climb into the truck next to her as she snuggles against me.

“You bit my knee,” she says.

I pause, blinking.

“Just now?”

She laughs.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Not hard,” she says. “But you definitely bit my knee when you came.”

I kiss the side of her head.

“Sometimes I get out of control around you,” I murmur.

“Good thing I like it,” she says.

We’re quiet for a long moment, Hazel curled against me, my hand stroking her shoulder.

“We should go in and pretend that it normally takes two people half an hour to park the car,” she says.

“I’m not keeping you secret any more,” I say.

“I don’t particularly need to announce that we had sex in the garage while people were waiting for you, though,” she says.

It’s a good point.

“I don’t want to leave,” I say. “Back there are people who want things and have questions and demands and suggestions and I just want to sit here with you in this horrible truck.”

She nuzzles against my shoulder.

“We could get on the motorcycle and run away,” she suggests.

“To where?” I ask. “We don’t have passports, or a change of clothes, and I don’t even have my phone with me.”

“Kostya, you’re terrible at this,” Hazel says.

“At running away?”

“At co-authoring a fantasy that’s not going to happen,” she says.

I lean my head back against the truck.

“I don’t understand any of what you just said,” I say.

She laughs quietly.

“Okay,” she says. “I say, ‘We could run away on the motorcycle,’ and you say, ‘We’d go to the beach and drink champagne and watch the sun come up and it would be very romantic.’”

“Where are we going to get the—”

She puts one hand over my mouth, gently.

“We’re not going to do it, just talk about it,” she says. “Your turn.”

“We could...” I trail off and look at her.

She raises her eyebrows.

“Go to another town,” I say.

Hazel closes her eyes and bites her lip, laughing silently.

“We’ll work on it,” she says, and kisses my shoulder.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too,” she says.

We should go back. I should face the people back at the palace.

“Stay here,” I say.

“In the truck?”

“In the country,” I say. “If you can. I can get your visa extended.”

Hazel shakes her head and looks up at me.

“Kostya, you’re too much,” she says. “You’re the fucking king, of course you can get my visa extended. You could outlaw visas if you wanted.”

“Not really,” I say. “There’s a—”

“I’ll stay,” she says, and pauses. “I’d like to. But only if you can extend my visa, of course.”

“I won’t if you keep making fun of me,” I say.

“You like it,” she says, and pushes me.

We climb out of the truck and find our clothes. Then we walk back to the palace through the gardens, holding hands.

I know everything could be shit again tomorrow, but right now, it might be perfect.