Chapter 39 – Isabella
T he cold couldn’t touch me. Not really. Sure, the brisk, bright air brushed against my cheeks as I walked through the woods, a soft crunch of leaves sounding underfoot with each step. But the crispness of the night seemed to sharpen my senses, making everything feel more alive, more present. I was bundled up in a fitted athletic coat that kept me warm but gave my limbs the ability to move. With my scarf snug around my neck, the knit beanie I made tugged over my ears, and the insulated gloves, the chill in the air didn’t bite—it invigorated me, filling me with a quiet thrill. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
This was it.
This was the part where I told the villain I wanted to run away with him.
Anticipation built as I wondered for the hundredth time what Ilya brought. If this date was anything like the gifts, I knew already without a shadow of a doubt that it would be perfect. The fact that most of the guards were currently ill-disposed with a terrible bout of food poisoning, as were the don and his sister, made the night all the more perfect. There had been few souls to slip past, their focus on the front and entrances of the estate.
The forbidden nature of this evening wasn’t lost on me. I waited up, unable to snooze, as the blazing red harvest moon marched into the sky. Now, the silvery tones were once more restored, hanging like a Christmas ornament high on the deep navy tapestry. Drops of the ethereal glow fell through the bare branches, making the shadows below twist and dance. It wasn’t dark tonight, impossible for a spectre to hide in the gloom.
No, he would be there, waiting for me in the open.
The wind whispered softly through the trees, carrying the faintest clack of branches and the occasional rustle of a wild animal. They were the only sounds breaking the stillness.
Until a hand shot out, wrapping around my waist and making me squeak.
Leather clapped over my mouth, and hot air fanned over my throat. “None of that, rusalka. Our voices will carry on a night like tonight.”
I nodded, letting the spectre know I understood.
When he loosened his hold, I turned in Ilya’s arms. “Hi, phantom, you came.”
“Where else would I be? You called. I came.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine. Did a smaller woman like me really have that kind of control over a huge, predatorial man like him?
“Come on, then.” His fingers slid into mine, and he guided me forward.
I realized why a moment later. There was camouflage fabric, complete with flapping leaves, fenced around several trees. It looked like a blind that hunters used—not that I knew from experience. Behind the fortress of deception were a multitude of electric candles, thick pillars of various sizes clumped together, with a gothic candelabra in the center of what could only be described as the coziest picnic imaginable. There were pillows over a throw blanket. Thermoses—plural!—leaned against the wicker basket. Boldly colored berries on stems with greenery hung on the inside of the camouflage. It was nothing short of a fairy feast, ready to be indulged in to complete the harvest.
I felt Ilya’s gaze on me, watching my every move. I wasn’t prepared for the unguarded look in his eyes, the desperate way he stared at me.
He’s nervous .
Knowing the terrible phantom was capable of such emotions shattered all hesitation. I flung myself into his arms. “It’s beautiful, Ilya.”
It was hard to tell with the solid muscles, but I could have sworn his body relaxed a fraction. Pulling me forward, he folded himself onto the thick blanket. He might be half the size this way, but his presence seemed to rule over the space.
I sat across from him, crisscrossing my legs. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not practiced in the art of the social convention known as dating.”
Ilya cocked his head to the side. “And you think I am?”
“Haven’t you been on a date?” I breathed, leaning forward. There was no way! He might not be a playboy, but surely he’d been out before?
A rough laugh rumbled in the spectre’s chest. “No, little siren, this would be a first for me.”
“Alright then.” I smacked my palms on my legging-clad thighs. “So we’ll rely on what I know from books.”
“Or….” Ilya took a mug from the basket, squirted caramel sauce along the edges, before unscrewing the cap of the thermos to pour the steaming liquid inside. “We can just be ourselves. That is what you wanted from tonight, wasn’t it?”
I swallowed. “It was.”
“And you wanted to know more about me?”
I nodded.
“Well then.” He passed me the mug. “What do you want to know?”
Everything. Anything! “We can play the question game,” I suggested.
Those dark brows drew together.
“We each ask open-ended questions of the other person, with the chance for a follow-up if they say something intriguing,” I explained blowing on the mug.
There was even whipped cream on the top, although it was fast melting from the heat. I nibbled at it, careful not to catch my tongue on the liquid.
“Go ahead, shoot.” Ilya poured himself a similar mug but wasn’t as careful with the presentation of the final piece. The caramel he squirted violently into a glob at the bottom, and the whipped cream spewed everywhere.
“What’s your job ?” I started with the obvious.
Ilya sat back, bending a leg while extending the other past me. One little scoot and I would brush against it.
Which was exactly what I did.
“I am one of the captains of a Chicago bratva. Technically, I oversee illegal ventures, but I’m also useful when there’s fighting—if that part wasn’t obvious.”
I blinked at him.
Russian mob.
How the hell did I not figure that out? Because I didn’t want to think I would be drawn to a mobster? Or because I preferred to see him as the spectral presence that was almost too unreal to believe.
“Club M? was where we met last November,” Ilya continued, seeming unfazed by my silent stares. “We wash money through the establishment. Although, thanks to the wife of our pakhan—our don—we have much more lucrative ventures.”
“Wow, so, Russian,” I garbled, before shutting my mouth with a long sip of the cider.
The tang of spices couldn’t mask the stronger punch of booze.
I pulled the mug back, grinning over the rim at the spectre. “This is spiked.”
Ilya nodded. “But I was in a hurry, so the cider might be too hot and dull the strength of the booze.”
“Probably a good thing.” I took another sip. “I’m not the quietest when I drink.”
“I know,” came the rumbled response.
Warmth infused my cheeks at the memory of meeting him that night in the back corridor after consuming the bottle of wine. Damn, I was lucky no one caught us.
“If you could befriend any animal, what would it be and why?” Ilya took a sip of his own drink.
A giddy laugh bubbled up my throat. “You looked up date questions!” I accused.
Ilya lifted his hands. “I did. I wanted to pass your tests, so I studied for the quiz.”
This man—this monster ! My lungs expanded with a deep inhale, flooding my veins with gratitude. “Cat,” I answered. “It would be more familiar than pet, but I would still dote on it. Besides, I always wanted one growing up.”
“You never had a pet?” he followed up.
I shook my head. “Mama was allergic, but I think that was the excuse she gave so I wouldn’t find out my father would use the critter as target practice.”
“Italians,” Ilya muttered.
We continued the back and forth until the thermos was empty. Opening the second, which was hot chocolate, likewise spiked but with booze—peppermint this time—Ilya brought out the snacks.
Above us, the trees swayed gently in the night breeze, their branches like skeletal arms stretching toward the star-studded sky. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, but the glow of the candles defied the silvery illumination, contending that it was in fact the more magical light.
Popping the last bite of lemon tart between my lips, I considered my next question. “Tell me about Russia.”
To a girl who never traveled farther than the Midwest, the snowy Slavic lands seemed a faraway winter paradise. The way the hard mask fell in place over Ilya’s features told a different tale.
“You don’t have to!” I whispered quickly, remembering that I’d had quite a bit to sip, and we were supposed to be quiet.
In a soft, faraway voice, the spectre began a terrible history that dared to shatter the magical ambiance. “I don’t remember the before times. My life started the day the soldiers came to take me from my village. There was smoke, screams, and blood. The red is so bright against the snow, did you know that?”
I gulped. “No, but I can imagine.”
“I was kept in a drafty metal building with other boys. We did chores for the camp, but when the soldiers were bored, which happened often in the long winters, we were the disposable pawns. They kept wild animals. The boys were given a knife and let into the pens. Unlike the others, I survived my encounter with the bear.”
The bear. I shook my head. Soldiers? Pawns?
“Camp?” I breathed.
“While there might have been some tie to the government, we were under the sole command of a warlord. He helped the powers-that-be, and so long as he didn’t do anything too heinous, he could rule as his own little kingdom.” Ilya flicked a crumb of graham cracker crust from his knee where the tart had been resting before he’d eaten it, which had thankfully been before my stupid question about the winter hellscape.
“Ilya—” I didn’t know what to say. We were bad, but even the way they handled trainees like Gio wasn’t that terrible.
“Don’t pity me, rusalka. Every step I’ve taken has forged me into what I needed to be.”
My heart pulsed painfully. Touch him. Hold him! I needed to be closer. I scrambled to my knees, crawling over to the spectre of darkness. There was nothing to fear from this man. I never had, never would.
The predator lurking inside tracked my every movement as I straddled his lap.
“You’re exactly who I needed, phantom. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize.” With that, I leaned forward to kiss him.
It started as a rush, a terrible onslaught. There was a connection between us that couldn’t be denied. I kissed him hard, letting him know I felt it and wouldn’t back down. Our breath mingled. My pulse quickened, every beat a clap of thunder in my chest. His lips met mine softly at first, hesitant, testing. But I could taste the hunger right under the surface. I wanted to break his control. The warmth of his skin encouraged me in this madness.
Pulling back sharply, I gasped, “I’m coming with you, phantom.”
He didn’t lose a beat. Those eyes, twin drops of silver, flashed with a possessive heat. “Of your own free will, Izzy?”
I nodded, my fingers trembling as they gently cupped his face. The world around us blurred, the distant sounds of the outside fading into nothing as I was consumed by the sensation of this man.
“Say it,” he demanded, hands splaying against me to press me closer. The heat of his body radiated under me, around me—through me.
“I choose you, Ilya Pavlovn. Where you go, I’ll go. Your home will be mine, and we’ll carve a future from the charred remains of the past.”
His lips were on mine again, this time soft, almost delicate, as if he savored the words caught between us. Gradually, the kiss deepened. There was a growing intensity—a silent conversation neither of us could speak aloud. Ilya tasted faintly sweet, with a hint of the lingering tang of lemon.
It was perfect.
Everything about this monstrous being was perfect. Like he was made for me.
“I should have let you go,” Ilya moaned against my mouth.
I shook my head, desperate to battle back that idea.
“Trust me, I tried. Violence, alcohol, danger. I couldn’t erase you from my mind. You claimed a piece of me, rusalka. Without mercy, you struck and took what you wanted before disappearing into the dark. But you left a piece of yourself too. Your essence haunted me. It drove me to madness, and when I couldn’t find you, I had to submit to the agony of knowing we would forever be apart.”
“But you did find me,” I breathed, nipping at his lip. My hips rocked against him, grazing his erection.
He groaned. “I should have let you go. But I couldn’t.”
“It was a good thing too.” I fought back the manic laugh. “Someone would have destroyed me, used me as a pawn in their games. But you came, a thief in the night, ready to take your treasure before it was too late.”
Ilya shook his head. “It would never have been too late. I would have killed your husband and taken you. Erased his every touch.”
“Alonzo isn’t your enemy. Promise me he’ll survive.”
“I promise. I won’t be the one to end him.”
Relief rushed through me.
Ilya’s exhale sounded like a pained sigh. “The way you protect those you love is beautiful, Izzy. I wish I was lucky enough to be counted as one.”
Summoning every drop of courage, I answered the unspoken question. “You are, phantom. You’re the most important.”
My name was a moan on his lips as they crashed into mine. This time, it was a furious collision, a hard coming together of souls. Ilya kissed me ravenously. I breathed him in, letting his essence fill me, while he consumed my very soul.
“Would you…chase me?” I rasped, daring to give my darkest, most forbidden fantasy a voice.
In this sacred place, in this hallowed moment, it didn’t feel foolish to share the desire with this man. I could trust him with it, at the very least trust him to not mock it, and at the most trust him to fulfill it.
His arms tightened around me, pinning me in place. “Chase you? Hunt you through the night, little rusalka?”
I nodded eagerly. “You won’t actually hurt me, but we can pretend. Pretend you’re a monster who’s going to devour me.”
The dark chuckle he gave me was rich and velvety, sliding against me with a sensual caress. “But that is exactly what I am, little one. We won’t have to pretend.”
I nearly fainted with desire.
“So…can we?” I breathed.
The strangled groan that left his throat gave me his answer before he denied me. “Not with the guards and lack of strong breeze. Besides, you’d have to stay in the thicker tree cover, and I won’t risk you tripping and hurting yourself.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Disappointment filled me.
His hand gripped me hard under the chin, and he forced me to look at him. The intensity shimmering there was almost too much. “Now that I know that’s what you want, I’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen.”
I smiled at him, happy with his promise and knowing he’d keep it. “Okay then, I’ll wait.”
“You won’t know where or when, so let that anticipation build ,” he purred, lifting his hips to roll into me.
Madonna mia! I needed him. Right here, right now! I was suddenly going to explode if I didn’t.
I reached for him, but he stopped me.
“It’s too cold, Izzy.”
Pursing my lips, I huffed. “Come back to my room with me,” I begged. “Let me warm you up.”
“No, rusalka. You wanted your date. We’ll do no more than kiss.”
“Please.” I held onto him desperately.
His touch slid up my throat, reaching to thread into my hair and lifting the hat loose on my head. He brought our foreheads together and growled, “I said no, Izzy. But if you’re a good girl, and go back quietly, you may play with yourself.”
As if he could control whether I did that or not.
“Are you rolling your eyes at me, little one?” he breathed, voice harsh and clipped.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Only a teeny, tiny bit.”
“Hmm.” The sound was rich and hot. It sent liquid heat pooling between my legs. “When you get to your bed, don’t even take off your clothing. Kneel beside your bed as if to pray. But instead—put that pretty little pink toy down your pants. Think of all the things I’ve done to your body and all the things I will do. And when you come, which will happen very, very quickly, it will be my name on your lips—not a saint, not a deity.” His fingers dug hard into my scalp, and I had to bite back the cry of pain. “But for heaven’s sake, don’t scream my name. Bury your face in a pillow if you have to.”
I might not have experience dating, but that was one hell of a first date. As Ilya led me through the trees, wandering the shadows and dodging the traps nature set to mock us with, I never felt more alive. My breath misted in front of me, curling in soft tendrils before vanishing into the night, but I felt warm, insulated against the chill. I was nearly free, my first choice already having been declared.