Chapter 17 Ivy
IVY
The van drifts in beside me and slows until it matches my steps. I don’t need a class in “what not to do at midnight” to know this is bad.
Real bad.
The side window is dark. The front plate is missing. And then, the side door slides open, the sound loud and eerie in the silence of the night.
A gloved hand shoots out and catches my coat at the collar before I have a chance to move.
A scream tears from my throat. I jerk back on instinct, and the fingers miss my throat and snag my scarf instead.
The fabric bites into my neck, reminding me of a noose.
A noose I so foolishly led myself right to.
I claw at it and slam my elbow backward.
It connects with something solid and a man grunts.
The gratification I feel is instantly squashed when a body slams into me from the side, nearly knocking me over. I would have fallen if not for the arms that wrap around my waist and haul me to my tip toes.
The ground shifts under me. My boots skid on packed snow as I scramble to try and find some kind of purchase.
But I can’t and my breath saws in and out of my mouth, the cold air threatening to freeze my lungs.
The cloth swings toward my mouth again, close enough to smell something sweet and chemical.
Oh, hell no! Panic spikes white-hot. I clamp my lips shut and twist my head away, then stomp down with my heel as hard as I can. It lands on a foot. My attacker swears, tight and ugly, but doesn’t let go.
“Let—go!” The word tears out of me, thin in the cold.
I throw my head back. The back of my skull cracks against a nose. Another curse. Warmth splashes my ear and I know, with a sickness that coils in my stomach, that it’s blood. Not mine, but it still gets to me.
The arms around me loosen suddenly, and I stagger backward, lose my balance, and fall to my hands and knees. Snow stings my hands, even through my gloves, but I don’t really notice it. My mouth drops open when I see him.
Konstantin.
He comes out of the darkness like some avenging…
devil. He moves so quickly, I can barely keep track of him.
One of his strong hands snaps to the wrist of the guy holding the cloth.
Konstantin twists hard and fast. The rag drops.
He drives his elbow into the man’s throat and the guy drops, gagging, into the snow.
Before I’ve absorbed that, Konstantin is already on the second attacker—the one who had me around the waist. He steps in tight, shoulder to sternum, sweeps a boot, and sends the man to the ground in the blink of an eye. The impact knocks a wheeze out of him and he doesn’t get back up.
The driver throws the van into gear with the side door still open. Konstantin pivots and slams it with his palm. The van swerves, fishtails once as tires try to find purchase in the snow, then the driver corrects it and races away.
Silence rushes in, eerie and uncomfortable after what just happened. Except for my pulse. My heart beats loudly in my ears and pounds against my chest.
I stare at Konstantin in open-mouthed shock. Snow clings to his hair and the ink at his throat. He looks steady. Dangerous. Alive. I can’t look anywhere else. Fear and relief tangle in my mouth, and under them, something hotter opens and won’t close.
He checks the street with one quick sweep, then he’s in front of me. His hands clamp my upper arms and haul me upright. Heat burns through my coat where he touches. He smells like cold air and gun oil. His eyes rake over me, counting damage. My knees tremble and threaten to give out beneath me.
“Are you hurt?” The control in his voice steadies me more than it should.
I shake my head. “No.”
And just like that, the worry in his eyes fades and anger, and something else I can’t name, darkens them into a deep green. His jaw clenches, highlighting the dimples in his cheeks even as his lips press into a thin, grim line.
His grip on my arms tightens almost painfully. The little shake he gives me snaps my teeth together. But I’m not scared. Not of Konstantin. Not after what he just did to protect me. Somehow, I know his action is born out of fear more than anger. Until he opens his mouth.
“What the hell was that?” he demands through gritted teeth. “You trying to get yourself killed?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. He huffs a breath of irritation then releases his hold on me. I start to respond, but he jerks his phone out of his pocket and types something. The screen highlights his face for a brief second, then disappears when he tucks it back into his pocket.
“Why the fuck would you risk your life like that?”
I open my mouth to argue and nothing reasonable comes out. “I thought—”
“You didn’t think, that’s the problem!”
I take a step back and lift my chin, my eyes narrowing. “I appreciate your help tonight,” I say, my voice low and controlled. “But—"
“Did you really think you were safe out here? Alone and unprotected?”
I shake my head, shame heating my cheeks. “I didn’t think about that. All I wanted to do was get away. From the violence, the threats, always looking over my shoulder.” I pause to meet his eyes steadily. “From you and this wedding.”
He jerks back a bit as if my words are a physical blow. “I’m not forcing you to marry me,” he says through gritted teeth.
“But aren’t you?” I counter. “Marry you or die. That’s what you’ve been telling me.”
A muscle tics at his jaw. “I have been watching over you for years. If there were a way to protect you without marrying you, I would. But it’s the hard truth. Vadim is dangerous. Very dangerous. And he’s got more resources than the FBI.”
His hands come to my shoulders, firm and sure, and the ground steadies under me.
He smells like cold air and wool and the faint bite of metal.
It’s a far more pleasant smell than I would have thought, and it suits him.
It reminds me of the outdoors, of strength…
and danger. I tell myself I should push him away. I don’t.
He studies my face for a long moment, and I find myself distracted by a snowflake melting on his eyebrow. The tip of my tongue tingles. How would it feel to lean up on my tip toes and flick that snowflake away with the tip of my tongue? Would his skin be cool or hot?
I mentally shake my head to get rid of such dangerous thoughts. I may not want to marry him, but my body wouldn’t mind performing some marital duties. In fact, my blood hums with desire.
“You’re shaking.” Konstantin lifts my scarf and settles it higher against my throat. His knuckles brush my skin and heat slides along my spine. “You scared the hell out of me, Malyshka.”
Malyshka, little one. The endearment slides through me, warming my insides. The huskiness of his voice causes a different heat, low in my belly. I shift to my other leg and clear my throat.
“I scared you?” The words come out in a small, nervous laugh. I’m trying to distract myself from those lustful thoughts, but apparently, it’s not working very well. “You just took down two men in twenty seconds.”
“And I almost got there too late.” The softness of his expression that had been there just a second ago vanishes, and anger and maybe a touch of fear take its place.
His jaw hardens again, but his eyes, those green eyes that usually seem so cold and controlled, are practically shouting at me now. He’s afraid, I realize with shock.
Afraid for me?
Something inside me gives, and I take a step closer to Konstantin before I know what I’m doing.
My hands find the front of his coat, and I splay my palms across the warmth emanating from his broad chest. The wool is rough under my fingers, but it somehow feels right.
Then his breath eases out, slow and warm, and his hands slide from my shoulders to the sides of my neck, his thumbs under my jaw.
It is a possessive touch, but one I welcome.
His gaze drops to my mouth and comes back, and when he looks back into my eyes, that fear I saw earlier is tempered with something else. Something hot and exciting. Something dangerous. That thought should scare me. It doesn’t.
His thumb traces once at my pulse and I feel it jump in answer. He leans in, slow enough to stop if I flinch.
I don’t.
And then he kisses me.