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Even before he opened his eyes, the memory of the last few hours came flooding back, only now with emotions attached.

How he’d pressed his lips against Fiona’s in a cold mockery of a kiss, without a trace of love or passion or desire. No wonder she’d been furious.

How once he was invincible, he didn’t see any reason not to stay that way. He’d known it could kill him, and he simply hadn’t cared.

In a rush of horror and shame, he remembered how he’d made Fiona cry. He loved her. How could he have done something so cruel to someone he loved?

Love!

He’d been unable to love Fiona. He’d literally forgotten what love felt like.

Justin felt the blood drain from his face. “Oh, God.”

Strong fingers dug into his upper arms. “Justin!”

He opened his eyes. Fiona was holding him, her face still streaked with tears. He could see her beauty now, but more importantly, he could see her. She’d been desperately trying to save him from himself. And he’d fought her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she hissed, her voice choked and angry. “Promise me you’ll never do it again.”

He hesitated. Part of him was protesting, But I need it! Another part was shouting, It hurts Fiona! His snow leopard was snarling furiously, Look what it makes you do! Look what it does to your mate!

His first inclination was to tell his snow leopard to shut up. But that had been how this entire mess had started. Just because his leopard had been forced on him didn’t mean he had to try to push him down and ignore him. His snow leopard was the voice of his own deepest instincts and emotions. Maybe he was worth listening to.

Justin waited patiently as his snow leopard ran through his usual, frantic snarls and shrieks of Don’t do it! It’s bad for you! It’ll kill us both! But he calmed down as he realized that for once, Justin was listening.

You have to tell your mate why you think you need it, his snow leopard hissed. You have to tell her what happened at Apex.

Justin flinched. He wanted to say, I can’t.

But when he looked at Fiona and felt his love for her, like a fire burning in his heart, he knew that he could. It was his choice, just like turning over a new leaf had been her choice. Just like telling him her story, which had obviously terrified her.

“I can’t make that promise until I know you understand what it means,” he said. “But it’s a long story, and people could walk in on us at any second. Let’s go back. I’ll tell you as soon as we’re alone.”

He’d expected her to be angry that he wouldn’t immediately agree. But instead, she took his hand. “I appreciate it. I know this is hard. I’m still scared to tell my teammates my story. But I’m going to anyway. I feel a lot better since I told you. And since you didn’t blame me, it makes me think maybe they won’t either.”

“Shane won’t,” Justin said. “I know him, and there’s no way. From what you told me about Hal, I can’t imagine that he would either. And Nick, I just met briefly and not really under great circumstances, but he said a couple things that made me think he’d committed some crimes himself.”

“Nick’s an ex-gangster. I gave him hell for it when he first joined. Looking back now, I didn’t want him around because he reminded me of what I used to be. But it was unfair of me. I owe him an apology.”

“It’s never too late.”

“It really isn’t.” She squeezed his hand, then said, “Now that you can appreciate it, let’s try again. What do you think of my costume?”

Fiona lifted his hand over her head and twirled beneath it like a ballet dancer. Her skirt flared out, showing off her slim but muscled thighs. Now he could admire her costume, and the woman in it. Her dress was white satin embroidered with clear crystals, like a field of snow flecked with ice. The tight top offered a tempting view of her luscious cleavage. White ballet slippers covered her dainty feet.

She wore an elaborate tiara of silver, white feathers, and sparkling clear jewels. Her half-mask was made of white lace decorated with the same clear crystals that were on her dress. A sapphire crystal shaped like a teardrop was placed beneath her eye, and a series of smaller sapphire teardrops made a trail down the mask. The blue crystal trail continued across the shoulder of her dress and made an asymmetrical pattern across the bodice and skirt, until it encircled the bottom of the skirt in a rippled pattern, like the sea.

Mr. Toscani had seen into Fiona’s heart, just as he’d seen into Justin’s: he’d dressed her as a snow queen whose tears were melting the ice.

“It’s beautiful,” Justin said. “You’re beautiful. I’m sorry as hell I couldn’t see it before.”

“You can now. That’s the important thing.”

He took a second look. Her shoulders and arms were bare, and so were her legs. “Aren’t you freezing?”

She shrugged, then gave him a wry smile. “You have to suffer for beauty.”

Justin put his arm around her and held her close, sharing his warmth. “No, you don’t.”

They walked out of the alley. It was mid-morning now, and Carnival was in full swing. The narrow streets were full of people in elaborate costumes and masks. Living gargoyles peered from windows, kings and queens were rowed along the canals by gondoliers, and masked lovers in elaborate costumes waltzed in the squares.

It was beautiful. More than beautiful—it was magical. Justin felt as if he’d stepped out of reality, and into the sort of dream he used to have, the kind he was sorry to wake up from. He couldn’t believe that he’d seen all this earlier and barely even registered it, let alone appreciated it.

He’d expected to be filled with dread for the entire walk back to the apartment, now that he’d agreed to tell her his story. But instead, he felt strangely light. He could feel again. He could perceive beauty and experience love and enjoy the warm grip of Fiona’s hand in his. Unexpectedly, joy had entered his heart, filling it to the brim if it was making up for lost time.

A huge crowd had gathered in St. Mark’s Square. To the accompaniment of wild cheers, a young woman dressed as an angel leaped from a high tower and floated down on an invisible wire, scattering confetti over the crowd.

Justin flicked one of Fiona’s braids. “You have confetti in your hair.”

“So do you. It suits you. You should wear it all the time.”

“Maybe I can hire that angel to follow me around and sprinkle it from a height.”

Fiona laughed. The clear sound filled his heart, and he bent to kiss her.

The touch of her lips was a shock as intense as if he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket, but a jolt of pleasure rather than pain. She swayed against him, her body seeming to melt into his. He was instantly hard as a rock, aching with desire. After that long morning of numb emptiness, the rush of love and lust made his head swim. If they hadn’t been in public, he’d have ripped her clothes off then and there.

Her eyes were burning with an emerald fire, and her nails bit into his shoulders. She was breathing as hard as if she’d just finished a marathon. She lowered her head and gave a sudden nip at his throat that sent a bolt of desire straight down his spine.

“Come on.” His voice came out in a rough growl, like his leopard’s.  

They pushed through the crowd, dodging costumed revelers as they ran through the narrow streets. His boots clacked against the cobblestones; her leather slippers made no sound. He only knew his feet were touching the ground by the noise they made. It felt like he was flying.

It seemed like both forever and no time at all before they reached their apartment. Justin was shaking from the intensity of his desire; he dropped the key the first time he tried to unlock the door. Fiona snatched it up, but fumbled as she tried to unlock it. Her hands were trembling too. When they finally got the door open, Justin kicked it shut behind them and shoved the bolt in place with the heel of his hand. Then they stumbled up the stairs together and into the bedroom.

Before they even reached the bed, they were in each other’s arms, kissing passionately. He was vaguely aware that they were both still wearing their half-masks, but his was made of thin leather and hers of lace; they didn’t interfere. Taking them off would require lifting his hands away from the soft skin of her bare shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to do it.

In a moment, he thought vaguely.

Fiona had pulled up his shirt and was caressing his chest. Her hands slid over the gunshot scars on his chest and back, but it didn’t bother him. If anything, her touch made him realize that they were only scars now. The wounds had healed. And then he forgot about them entirely, because her hands had dropped down to tug at his belt buckle. He helped her undo it, then pulled it off and tossed it aside.

The bed was right there in front of them, but his blood was running too hot and his pulse pounding too fast to take the time to lie down. Nor could he imagine taking the time to get undressed. He needed to be in her now, merging their bodies until all barriers between them melted away.

Fiona gave him a nudge forward, and his back met the wall. In a voice low and husky with arousal, she said, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

She pushed his pants down to his hips, and slid her palm along him as she went. He groaned, thrusting into her hand. His whole body felt like it was on fire. His hands were once again shaking as he reached up her skirt, feeling the heat of her thighs, and pulled down her panties. They fell around her ankles. Fiona stepped out of them, then kicked them away.

He put his hand under her skirt and slipped a finger into her slick folds. She cried out aloud at just that brief caress, and he knew she was as close to the edge as he was.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Just like this.”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing herself against him. Justin put his hands under her thighs and lifted her. She gripped his shoulders and kissed him hard as he slid into her like a key into a lock.

He gasped at the intensity of the sensation. She was so hot and wet and tight inside, gripping him from within. Fiona too gasped, her eyes opening wide. As he began to thrust, she kissed his lips, his throat, his cheeks, his eyelids. As his pleasure built within him, his love for her burned hotter and hotter until it exploded in an ecstatic white-heat, like the heart of a sun.

Justin leaned against the wall, holding Fiona in his arms. She lay as boneless and content as a cat in the sun, her head resting on his shoulder. He felt like he could stay like that forever.

After a while, she lifted her head and nudged him. “Aren’t you getting tired?”

“Never.” Then he admitted, “But my feet might be starting to fall asleep.”

She laughed. “Let’s take a shower.”

He carried her to the bathroom, where they took off their masks and undressed. Fiona unpinned her braids and Justin helped her unravel them, her hair sliding through his fingers like silk, before they stepped into the shower. The hot water washed away his sweat and made her hair seem to flow like liquid. She might have been a water spirit risen to pull him into the depths, not to drown but to find a new life in a strange new world.

When they left the shower and dressed again in their regular clothes, Justin sat down on the bed.

You’re not brave if you’re not scared, he thought. It only feels like telling this story will hurt so much that it’ll actually kill me.

He still felt exactly like he had that first time he’d stood at 13,000 feet above ground with a parachute strapped to his back. But he beckoned to Fiona. “Come here. I’ve got a story for you.”

She curled up beside him and put her arms around him. Stroking his back, she said quietly, “We haven’t really talked about it, but I do know what you’ve done. Way back in New York City, you told me Apex forced you to become an assassin. But that wasn’t your choice. I didn’t blame you for it then, and learning the details isn’t going to make me blame you now.”

“That’s not what I’m going to tell you. Like you said, I didn’t just up and decide to become a hit man. I’d never have done it if I’d had a choice, but it’s not what’s keeping me awake at night.”

“Then what is?”

As he began to speak, he hoped her love would be his parachute.