Chapter 21 Obsidian Flames
OBSIDIAN FLAMES
SEBASTIAN
Istood under the stone arch where Viktor and I had first argued months ago, back when I'd thought he was just another bodyguard who'd try to cage me. Back when I'd been stupid enough to think I could keep him at arm's length.
Now his hand brushed mine as we walked, and the world didn't end.
That was the strange part. The terrifying part. We'd crossed every line, broken every rule, and nothing had collapsed. No lightning from heaven. No palace guards dragging us apart. Just this: sunlight and fountains and his fingers grazing my wrist like he couldn't help himself.
“Feels strange,” I said quietly, watching a pair of maids hurry past with linens, their eyes carefully averted from us. “Being allowed to want something and not apologize for it.”
Viktor's mouth curved. Barely. Just the ghost of a smile. “It will not last forever. But we'll take it while it does.”
The words should've felt ominous. Instead they felt true. Real in a way most promises weren't.
We stopped beneath the arch. The same place where he'd towered over me with that stone-cold expression, telling me in clipped Russian-accented English that my security was his responsibility and I'd damn well cooperate.
The same place where I'd told him to go to hell and walked away feeling something I'd refused to name.
Now I tilted my head back, looking up at him. “You realize we're in plain view.”
“Da. I know.”
“Guards at two o'clock. Kitchen staff at the windows. Three ambassadors' aides probably watching from the east wing.”
“I see them.”
“So you're aware that if you kiss me right now, you're basically announcing to the entire palace that the prince and his bodyguard are...”
I trailed off. Because I still didn't have a word for what we were. Lovers felt too simple. Together felt too fragile. Mine felt too possessive and not possessive enough.
Viktor's hand came up, cupped my jaw. His thumb traced my cheekbone with the same deliberate care he used when checking weapons. Like I was something valuable that required attention.
He kissed me.
Not gentle. Not performative. Just firm and real and claiming in a way that made my chest go tight.
I heard a soft gasp from somewhere behind us. Probably one of the maids. Definitely someone who'd be gossiping in the staff quarters within the hour.
Good.
When we pulled apart, I was grinning. “You just started three rumors in thirty seconds.”
He stepped back, hand falling to his side, but his eyes stayed on mine. Warm. Real. “We have work to do.”
Right. Work. Because even with my father's blessing and the morning sunlight making everything feel possible, the world was still trying to kill us.
“Ghost Zero,” I said, sobering. “You really think it's someone inside?”
“I know it is.” Viktor's expression shifted. Professional. Focused. “Pattern is too precise. Too informed. Someone with access to schedules. To routes. To exact positioning.”
“Could be anyone on the security council. Half the advisory board. God, even some of the senior staff.”
“Which is why we trust no one.”
I nodded. My hand drifted to my pocket, found the small wooden falcon Viktor had carved. I'd been carrying it for weeks now, ever since he'd left it on my workbench with no explanation. Physical evidence that the stoic bodyguard had a heart buried somewhere under all that tactical armor.
“When do you check in with Adrian?” I asked.
“In five minutes. Encrypted line from the Sentinel office.”
“I want to be there.”
His jaw tightened. “Sebastian—”
“Don't. Don't try to protect me from your world.” I stepped closer, voice dropping. “We're in this together now. That means all of it. Your contacts, your network, your past. I'm not some porcelain prince who needs to be kept in the dark.”
For a moment, I thought he'd argue. Saw the war playing out behind his eyes, duty versus trust, professional distance versus whatever the hell we'd become.
Then he exhaled. “Fine. But you let me do the talking.”
“Deal.”
We started walking again, his hand finding the small of my back.
A guard passed us, young guy with nervous eyes. He nodded to Viktor, glanced at me, then away fast. Too fast. Like he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to acknowledge.
“This is going to make security harder,” I said as we climbed the stairs toward the east wing.
“Everything about you makes security harder.”
I laughed. “That's not what you said last night.”
His hand tightened against my back. Warning. But I caught the flush creeping up his neck, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying not to smile.
God, I loved that. Loved that I could make him react. Loved that underneath all that ice and discipline, there was a man who blushed when I teased him about sex.
We reached the Sentinel office, tucked away in a corner of the palace most people forgot existed. Viktor's private domain. All reinforced walls and encrypted communications and weapons lockers that probably violated half a dozen international treaties.
He keyed in the access code. The door hissed open, revealing a space that looked more like a military command center than an office.
Screens on every wall. Weapons mounted in locked cases.
A desk that had seen better days, covered in reports and surveillance photos and the kind of organized chaos that spoke to obsessive attention to detail.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Viktor said, already moving to the communications array. “This may take a while.”
I settled into the chair opposite his desk, watching him work. The way his hands moved across the keyboard, fast and sure. The way his shoulders carried tension like a second skin. The way he looked in his element, all focus and deadly competence.
Beautiful. Dangerous. Mine.
The screen flickered to life. Blue light washed across Viktor's face as the encryption protocols booted up. Then static, then a face.
Adrian.
“You look worse than your reports, Volkov,” Adrian said. His voice was cultured. British. The kind of accent that belonged in boardrooms and opera boxes, not criminal empires.
“Have not been sleeping well,” Viktor answered.
“I can see that.” Adrian's eyes shifted, found me in the frame. “Your Highness. I hope my operative has been satisfactory.”
“He'll do,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. Playing the game. “Saved my life a few times. Hasn't murdered anyone I actually liked.”
Adrian's mouth curved. “High praise.”
“He tries.”
Viktor shot me a look that promised retribution later. I smiled back innocently.
“We have a codename,” Viktor said, steering the conversation back to business. “Ghost Zero. Whoever it is, they're funding the attacks and using the palace as cover. Multiple cells. Coordinated strikes. Someone with deep pockets and deeper connections.”
Adrian leaned forward. “I'll send extraction if it goes sideways. You're not alone in this.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, you've gone radio silent for three days and I'm wondering if the prince's pretty face has compromised your judgment.”
I bristled. Viktor's hand came down on my shoulder, gentle pressure. Shut up and let me handle this.
“My judgment is fine,” Viktor said, voice flat. “Prince Sebastian is asset, not distraction. He has combat training. Intelligence gathering skills. Access to palace intel I cannot get on my own.”
“And you're sleeping with him.”
Not a question. A statement.
The room went very quiet.
Viktor's hand stayed on my shoulder. Steady. Claiming. “Yes.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Adrian asked.
“No.”
“You're sure? Because I've seen good men make bad calls when their hearts get involved.”
“I am sure.” Viktor's voice went hard. “This changes nothing about my ability to protect him. If anything, it makes me more motivated to ensure his survival.”
Adrian studied him for a long moment. Then his expression softened. Just slightly. “Good. Because I like you alive, Volkov. And I suspect the prince does too.”
A second voice cut in, warm and teasing. “You say that like he's ever taken backup.”
Someone moved into frame. Smaller than Adrian. Dark hair. Gentle features that contrasted sharply with the crime lord beside him. But his eyes held fire underneath the softness, the kind that said he'd survived things that should've broken him.
Noah.
Adrian's husband. The angel in the beast's den. The man who'd somehow tamed London's most dangerous criminal.
Viktor's entire posture changed. Softened in a way I'd never seen. “You still keeping him alive?”
“Every day,” Noah replied. “Some days I even enjoy it.”
There was affection there. Real and deep. Like these three had history that went beyond professional.
Like Viktor had a life before me. People who mattered. Connections that weren't just duty and blood.
“Find Ghost Zero,” Adrian said, voice sharpening back to business. “And watch the King's advisors. Too many threads lead back to the palace. Someone close is dirty.”
“I know.”
“Then stop fucking around and finish it.” Adrian's eyes moved to me. “Keep him alive, Your Highness. He's one of the best men I have. I'd prefer not to lose him to palace politics.”
“I'll do my best,” I said.
“See that you do.” The screen flickered. “And Viktor? When this is over, come home for a visit. Noah's been asking about you.”
“I will.”
The call ended. Static filled the silence, then nothing.
Viktor sat there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen. The soldier. The bodyguard. The man caught between two worlds.
“Come on,” I said. “You've been up for twenty hours. You need rest.”
“Still have work—”
“Work can wait.” I pulled him up. “You're exhausted. And when you're exhausted, you make mistakes. And mistakes get people killed.”
I was using his own logic against him. Saw the moment he recognized it, the way his mouth twitched with reluctant amusement.
“You are too clever for your own good,” he muttered.
“Learned from the best.”