Chapter 11
NIKOLAI
The private jet sat on the tarmac, ready as requested, waiting to carry us away from this nightmare. I climbed the steps carefully, Adrianne’s limp body cradled against my chest. She was still unconscious, her breathing shallow but steady.
“What’s the destination?” Adrik asked as he climbed the stairs in front of me.
“Russia.”
He stopped dead in his tracks as the word left my mouth, turning to look at me and make sure I hadn’t suffered a concussion while extracting Adrianne from that fucking house. “Russia? You never go to Russia, never mind in the winter.”
There was a ‘have you fucking lost it’ in there somewhere, but I knew the expression plastered on my face had Adrik restraining from further commentary.
I wasn’t in the mood for questions. My shoulder throbbed where I’d slammed it into that door, and every muscle in my body was wound tight with the residual adrenaline that only now started to fade.
“Just give the pilot his instructions and get us up in the air.”
I carried Adrianne to one of the leather seats and settled her into it as gently as I could. Her head lolled to one side, and I had to resist the urge to smooth her hair back from her face. Instead, I focused on fastening her seatbelt, making sure it wasn’t too tight across her hip bones.
After securing my own belt, I lifted the armrest and carefully pulled her body towards me, resting her head on my lap, adjusting my jacket to cover her shoulders and every part of intimate skin she shouldn’t be flashing anyone.
I placed my hand over her arm, trying to show her somehow that she was safe.
Her form was too light and so damn fragile.
Sasha was lying across a row of seats, further towards the front of the jet, with Kirill and another two of my men looking after her. Her leg needed time to heal but she’d dogged the worst of it.
The engines roared to life, preparing for takeoff, while Adrik took the seat across from us, his eyes studying Adrianne’s unconscious form with concern.
“What did he give her?” He asked.
“I don’t know. It had to be something strong because she’s hardly even moved.”
As the plane lifted off, Adrianne stirred slightly in my lap as if she’d heard the concern laced in my voice just a second before. Her face scrunched up like she was trying to fight her way back to consciousness, but whatever drug was in her system pulled her under again.
The guilt ate me up inside like acid. I’d done this to her.
I’d been the one to collar her, to leave her defenseless with a man who got off on breaking beautiful things.
And for what? Worse of all was the fact that I knew there was a chance Vladimir wouldn’t give me what I wanted, and I still risked it.
“So what’s the plan?” Adrik asked once we’d reached cruising altitude, forcing my gaze away from Adrianne’s pale face.
“I haven’t thought that far through.” The admission caught Adrik by surprise. I always had a plan. Always knew my next three moves. But right now, all I could think about was keeping her safe. “The priority is getting her somewhere secure. We’ll deal with the rest when we’re there.”
“And then what? You can’t run from Vladimir forever.”
“I’m not running from him. I’m protecting her from him. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like they just blended into the same thing.
We both know your father is many things, but dumb isn’t one of them.
By now, he must have figured that, by hurting her, he’ll hurt you.
” I glared at him for saying such an absurdity.
“More than holding back on the location of those graves and–”
Before Adrik could complete that sentence, Adrianne’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. She looked around in confusion before her gaze landed on my face. The fear that flooded her features was like a knife to the gut.
“Devil,” she mumbled, her voice slurred and thick, but her eyes never left mine, even if the look she had was of pure panic. “You’re him... Stay away from me.”
Then, she was gone again, her body going limp as the drugs dragged her back under.
You’re him.
There was absolutely nothing worse she could have said, and yet, I deserved it. I should have never left her there. I should have known that walking away from her was signing her death sentence. What kind of man hands over an innocent woman to a sadist and calls it strategy?
A devil.
Adrik raised an eyebrow. “She’s comparing you to Vladimir. That’s not good.”
“She’s drugged. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” I brushed it off as if it meant nothing, but there was no denying the burn at the pit of my stomach.
The words stung more than they should have. The terror in her face when she looked at me just now was the exact same fear I’d seen her wear when my father held that knife to her throat.
“This was fucked from the start,” Adrik said in his all-mighty fucking wisdom.
“You don’t say?”
Adrianne began to shiver, her body trembling against mine even though the cabin was warm. The thin fabric of that obscene dress provided no comfort, and even my jacket wasn’t helping. I placed my hand under the leather, feeling her skin freezing against my warm palm.
“She needs to get cleaned up and into warmer clothes,” I said.
“Sasha’s clothes are in a suitcase in the bedroom,” Adrik offered, keeping his eyes on mine as silence stretched for a while, noticing my hesitance. “I can take care of it if you want.”
The suggestion sent both ice and fire through my veins. The thought of another man’s hands on her, seeing her vulnerable, touching her skin…
Why was I getting so worked up over this?
“No.” The word came out dripping in poison and menace, reading more like ‘back the fuck off.’
“Nikolai, be reasonable. She’s going to get sick, and we are heading to at least minus ten degrees.” What was that? Fourteen Fahrenheit?
“I said no.”
I unclasped both our seatbelts and lifted her into my arms, standing abruptly. Adrik held up his hands in surrender, a knowing grin plastered on his smug face.
“Easy. I was just trying to help.”
“Shoving me off a fucking cliff isn’t helping,” I said, referring to the way he was pushing my buttons and knew what he was fucking doing.
I carried her to the bedroom at the back of the plane and shut the door behind us with more force than necessary. The space was small but luxurious, with a queen-sized bed and an adjoining bathroom.
I settled her gently on the bed, her dark hair fanning out across the white pillows.
In the bathroom, I found a washcloth and soaked it with warm water. When I returned, I hesitated for a moment, looking down at her unconscious form.
I was about to cross a line. I knew that. But the alternative was letting Adrik do this, and that wasn’t happening even if hell froze over. Not while I had life in my body.
The dress was held together by little more than hope and a few strategic ties. I worked carefully to remove it, trying not to rock her too much. When the fabric finally gave and I managed to pull it off, I had to close my eyes and take a steadying breath.
“Blyat!”
Adrianne wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
When I opened my eyes again, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. This was about getting her clean and warm. Nothing more.
My throat burned like I’d swallowed acid and broken glass.
I should be looking away. I should be treating her body like a wound I was tending, nothing more.
But instead, my gaze dragged across every pale curve, every bruise marring her skin, and the kind of scars no man had a right to witness.
Every ounce of strength in me was directed not to trace that damn tattoo on her leg and feel how soft her skin was.
I told myself it was the violence that made me clench my fists.
That it was anger directed at that monster for daring to mark something so delicate.
But the ugly truth was there, too, hiding underneath the rage.
The truth that I wanted to smooth the bruises away with my mouth.
That I wanted to hold her against me and swear I’d never let another hand touch her again.
She was fragile, broken in ways I couldn’t imagine. And still, my chest tightened with something that felt like hunger. The kind of famine that scared the hell out of me because it had nothing to do with blood or vengeance.
I dragged the warm cloth over her shoulder, careful and reverent, like I’d never been with anything in my life. My pulse picked up to an unnatural speed when her body shifted beneath my touch, the barest sigh leaving her lips.
“Nikolai.” She whispered my name like it was both a curse and a prayer, and fuck, I wasn’t sure which one I wanted more.
The shallow breaths that made her naked breasts rise and fall rapidly right after that single word, told me there was panic driving through her after, and yet, I couldn’t make myself tear my gaze away.
This was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
She wasn’t mine. But try telling that to my veins, to the storm pounding through me like every cell already knew the lie in that thought.
I forced the rag down her arm, focusing on each small, methodical movement, trying to make it clinical and cold.
Clean her. Warm her. Keep her alive. That was all I was allowed.
And still, when her head turned slightly toward me on the pillow, I had to press my teeth together to keep the word from spilling out.
Mine.
It echoed in my skull like that gunshot she saved me from. She had no right to do that. To etch herself under my skin like she’d always belonged there. To put herself in danger for a man who kidnapped her and tossed her over to a monster to become a piece of meat.
I clenched my jaw until it ached, trying to shove that thought of possession back into the dark where it belonged. She wasn’t mine. She could never be.
Safety and me weren’t things that went together. Safety was light, soft, a quiet life in a small town. I was the bulldozer that tore that picket fence down. I was blood on the walls. The screams in the middle of the night.
And yet, here I was, wringing out a washcloth like some penitent man and dragging it gently across her skin.
Slow strokes over her arms, her ribs, her collarbone.
I told myself I was erasing his filth, wiping away the remnants of what Vladimir had done.
But every time my hand brushed against her bare flesh, I felt that craving I almost couldn’t control.
The heat I hadn’t ever let myself feel, burning in me like wildfire.
Her lips parted on a small breath when the cloth skimmed the hollow of her throat.
I froze instantly, every muscle locked into a tight mass, wishing to catch the small echo and hear it again. God, if she only knew what that sound did to me. It felt like temptation itself had crawled under my skin, whispering in a voice I didn’t dare to listen to.
“No,” I muttered under my breath as an order to myself. I wasn’t that man. Not when she was helpless. I’d never do anything to her unless she wanted me to.
So, I kept going. Down her arms, across the flat of her stomach, over bruises and cuts that should have been nothing but battlefield damage, but somehow carved themselves into me as if I’d taken every hit alongside her.
By the time I finished, my pulse was thrumming so loud I thought it would wake her up. My hands shook as I pulled Sasha’s clothes from the suitcase.
I’d expected the act of dressing her to be easier. But fuck me, it wasn’t.
Sliding fabric over her arms and legs was an agony I couldn’t afford. Having to touch her. Feel her precious skin under my fingers. And still, I did it with shaky hands and a steady face.
Once she was covered, I tucked the blanket high under her chin. For a long time, I just stood there, staring down at her. Her hair spilled across the pillow like ink, her lashes shadows on her cheeks. Fragile but untouchable under my watch.
I dragged the chair closer to the bed, sank into it, and pulled out a cigarette I didn’t smoke.
Just held it between my fingers like a vice that was supposed to soothe me, watching over her like a sentry on borrowed time.
We had until the end of this flight before my fantasy burst into a reality made of bad memories and snow.
But until she woke up, she’d have my eyes. My every second. My every breath.
Until we landed in Russia and menace knocked me back into emotionless and cold. She deserved that much.