Chapter Eleven
Abigail was pleasantly sore. The trip had passed rather quickly, but that was because when Vasili wasn’t making love to her, they’d slept. She curled up on the bunk, sometimes by herself, and other times Vasili held her on his lap.
The cabin might be small, but he’d made the most of every square inch. She knew she was blushing but couldn’t stop. He’d taken her on the bunk again, but this time she’d sat on his lap and faced him. Another time, they’d barely made it back from a trip to the bathroom and he’d taken her against the door of their cabin.
But she hadn’t had a lover in a long time, and all the vigorous sexual activity had left her feeling a little uncomfortable. When he realized she was in some discomfort, he left the cabin and returned with hot water and towels. She had no idea where he’d gotten them, but he had a way of acquiring whatever they needed.
He washed her from head to toe, paying meticulous attention to her breasts and between her legs until she was almost ready to ignore how tired she was. But her stomach chose that moment to growl. Vasili, of course, heard. So he got her food before tucking her in to sleep.
Now they were closing in on Omsk and both dressed again. She sensed he was no more ready to leave the quiet intimacy of their cabin than she was. Once they stepped outside, they had no idea if the Knights would have anyone waiting for them or not.
“Have you dealt with the Knights before?” It was time to ask the practical questions, no matter how much she wanted to avoid them.
“Yes.” He was sitting on the bunk across from her, the bulk of his body making it look more like a chair. He turned away from the window and studied her intently. He seemed distant, not at all like the lover she’d spent more than the past day with. She wished she were sitting beside him but knew it was probably better that she wasn’t.
They needed to talk.
She waited and waited, finally realizing he wasn’t going to say anything more about it. “And?” she prompted.
He shrugged, and she tried not to notice the way his big shoulders moved beneath his sweater. “They tried to trap me and didn’t succeed.”
Frustration ate at her, and she started to tap her fingers against her thigh. “So how many run-ins have you had with them? Two? Twenty?” If they were going to have any kind of relationship, he had to learn to share.
Or maybe she was being presumptuous. Just because they’d had earth-moving sex, didn’t mean he wanted a relationship. He was stuck with her for the moment, but he didn’t owe her anything. Certainly not answers to her questions or information.
“What does it matter?” he asked. “They did not succeed.”
She gave a decisive nod. “You’re right, of course, it doesn’t matter.” She turned away from him and busied herself checking her bag and the secret pockets of her sweater, making sure everything was in place, even though she knew it was. Anything but having to look into his all-too-knowing eyes.
She was rummaging around in her bag when he placed his hand over hers. “Abigail, what it is? What’s wrong?”
She wanted to yell and scream, but none of this was his fault. She was the one who’d found the bracelet and started this entire series of events.
“Nothing.” She tried to smile but knew it fell flat. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.”
His lips flattened into a rather intimidating frown. She pulled her hand away and continued to poke around in her bag, pretending to be busy.
“Tell me about the kidnapping.”
She stilled, the breath sucked out of her body. Carefully, she closed the bag and tucked it alongside her. “What does it matter?” she tossed his words back at him. “It’s over.”
The cabin was suddenly smaller than it had been only seconds before. Vasili seemed larger, somehow, as if his presence had grown. The tension grew thicker, but she didn’t back down. She’d let fear and sex cloud her head, but it was time to start thinking for herself again.
“Do you think I can catch a plane in Omsk and get out of the country?” It might be worth the risk. If she could slip by this Anton Bruno, she could get back to the States and go into hiding. As much as she hated to do it, she wasn’t stupid. No way did she want to end up kidnapped again. Once was one time too many.
“You aren’t going anywhere.” Anger vibrated in every word.
Her limbs trembled, but she held firm. “You helped me escape. For that, I’m more than grateful, but you have your life, and I have mine.” Every word she spoke was killing her, even if it was the truth.
“You gave yourself to me,” he reminded her.
No more hiding. She faced him head on and nodded, letting him see her anger. “I did. And I thought it meant more than sex on a train, but obviously I was mistaken. You want to keep your secrets, don’t want to share or extend our relationship beyond the physical, and that’s your right. But time is running out, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do next.”
She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. It would be unfair to Vasili. He’d never promised her anything and had already done so much. She’d be in the clutches of the Knights if it weren’t for him. But it hurt her all the way to her soul. What she felt for Vasili was real and went beyond sex. That obviously wasn’t the case for him. And that wasn’t his fault.
No way would she be one of those women who used tears to get their way or to make someone feel bad. She’d always remember Vasili with love and caring. And she hoped he’d keep the memory of their time together in his heart as well when they were parted.
…
Vasili’s dragon was furious. Not at Abigail, but at him for mishandling things. The beast rippled and roared, trying to take control, but he wouldn’t let it. There simply wasn’t enough room in their cabin. He’d end up injuring her if he shifted. In the end, that was the only thing that kept his dragon side in check.
He’d hurt her without meaning to. The past attacks by the Knights weren’t important to him. They were simply that—the past. But in not telling her about them, he’d caused her to withdraw from him, to make her believe she wasn’t important to him beyond the physical pleasure they’d shared.
Before his very eyes, he’d watched and felt her withdraw from him, even though she was still seated in the same spot less than an arm’s length away.
He might be thousands of years old, but he’d never had a relationship with a modern woman, not one like what he wanted with Abigail.
He reached out and cupped her face between his hands. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to upset you, to make you think what we shared was not important.”
Her eyes were luminous, and she swallowed heavily but shed no tears. His Abigail was so very brave. She took a shaky breath. “It’s okay. Not your fault. I had expectations and I shouldn’t. That’s on me, not you.”
Frustration began to take a back seat to fear. He was losing her. His skin prickled, and a low-grade panic set in. “It is not your fault. It is mine.” He released her face and dragged her onto his lap, needing the closeness they’d had but somehow lost.
“I honestly did not think the past mattered, but if you want me to tell you about it, I will.”
He ran his hand over her hair, so short for a woman, but it suited her. It was sassy and no nonsense.
Her smile was wobbly, but it was there. “You will?”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes. If it matters that much to you. And obviously it does.” He wondered why. Why did she need to know what the Knights had done to him in the past?
A sly voice whispered in the back of his head that maybe she needed to know so they wouldn’t repeat it, so they could try something new. He shoved the voice away, refusing to listen. Abigail would never betray him, and she certainly wasn’t working for the Knights and Anton Bruno.
Or is she?
What better way to get close to him than to have his path cross with a fragile, but beautiful and courageous woman. They wouldn’t have been searching for him specifically, but any drakon. The bracelet had been the lure. Or maybe the woman was the lure, and the magic trinket nothing more than a trap to keep him by her side.
He shook his head, refusing to believe such a thing. He was stronger than that. And the tattoos protected him against such magic tricks. And now she knew that. Would she share that information with Bruno?
“Vasili, what’s wrong?” She couldn’t fake the concern in her voice. Not Abigail. She was open and honest.
But he had only her word that events had transpired as she’d said they had.
Why was he feeling so unsure all of a sudden? He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Nothing is wrong. I just don’t like speaking of the past.”
She nodded. “I get that. And I’m sorry if I’m asking too much too soon.”
That quickly his suspicion faded, replaced once again with lust and caring. He released a huge sigh that ruffled her hair and made her laugh.
“Why do you keep your hair short?” he asked her, curious to know everything about her.
She touched the short strands and shrugged. “It was longer, but after, you know.” She sighed and let her hands drop back down by her sides. “I needed a change.”
He put his hands on her hips and pulled close enough for her to feel his arousal. He understood that after the kidnapping, she’d wanted a change.
“Will you tell me about it?” He realized he was being totally unfair, not willing to talk about his past, but wanting Abigail to share hers.
He was a drakon, one who craved knowledge. He should understand her need to know more about him. But thousands of years of habit died hard. And it was second nature to him to keep every detail about himself private. That would have to change if he hoped to keep her with him. If he couldn’t change, he would lose her.
And he would not allow that to happen.
Even though it went totally against everything he’d lived by for all these years, he offered her a trade. “You tell me, and I’ll tell you about my past. Deal?”
She shook her head, and his hopes sank. “No.” She drove the knife of her refusal home. “You don’t need to trade. I’ll tell you about the kidnapping, but you don’t need to share with me. I only want you to if you do it freely, not to get something from me.”
She shamed him.
He was a brave, fearless drakon, but he was being shown the true meaning of courage by this woman. She might not be anywhere near as physically strong as he was, but she was a giant when it came to emotional strength.
“Thank you.” It was a gift. Yet another one she’d given him.
“What do you want to know?” She glanced down and picked at her sweater. This was not an easy subject for her.
“Whatever you want to share.” He wanted to know every minute detail so he could go over it again and again and make certain all those associated with the event were indeed dead, but she didn’t need to know that.
…
She took a breath and plunged into the story, relaying the details of how she’d been taken and used as leverage by the Knights. How they’d bartered her in order to get something they wanted from her sister. It was difficult to stay detached, and fear crept into her voice.
Vasili growled, and his eyes glowed before he shook himself and they settled back into their normal color. “They hurt you?”
She nodded and rubbed her two fingers. Even after all this time, they still throbbed sometimes. A phantom pain. A memory that would never leave her. “Yes. They wanted to make sure Constance understood they meant business.”
Vasili swore under his breath. “That about covers it,” she agreed.
“What was his name?”
“The member of the Knights responsible for all of it?”
He gave a jerky nod.
“Jeremiah Dent, but he’s dead.”
Vasili’s jaw tightened. His anger was palpable. She wished she knew what he was thinking. “Well?”
He caught her chin in his hand. “You wish me to say I am angry at the men who took you. That I wish they were alive so I could kill them myself. It is not logical, but that is how I feel.”
He brushed a light kiss over her lips. “I wish you’d never been drawn into this world, into this deadly war, but I’m glad you were. Otherwise, you would have been unprepared for what happened here.”
He ran his fingers over her throat. Abigail moaned and clutched at his shoulders. “It pains me that you were injured, but it also brought you here. To me. And, my sweet Abigail”—he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip—“for that, I can never be sorry.”
He was right. As much as she wished she could go back to her days of innocence before she’d learned about drakons and Knights, she wouldn’t trade whatever was happening between them for anything. It was too special, too precious.
She knew he probably had a million questions he wasn’t asking. She knew she had just as many she wanted to put to him. Instead of asking them, she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him close. He came willingly.
Then she kissed him, and this time, she was the aggressor, taking what she wanted. And what she wanted was his heat, his passion. And he gave it, generously and completely.
Their tongues tangled, and a familiar heat seeped through her entire body. Every time she touched him, she wanted him. And when he kissed her, she forgot about the problems facing them.
It would be so easy to retreat. His erection pressed against her stomach, and she rubbed herself against it. He groaned and managed to pull himself away from her.
“You’re not up to making love again, and we still need to talk.”
He was right. Time was running out. But she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that things were going to change, and not for the better. She was worried and wanted to hold on to the feelings of connectedness, of caring that she and Vasili shared.
“What do you want to know?” she asked. She might as well tell him everything. He was as involved in this as she was. Maybe more so. He was the true target. Anton Bruno would use her to capture Vasili, but in the end, it was the drakon that he wanted.
She, like last time, was expendable.