17. Elena #3
The rest of the sentence dies on my tongue as the towel slips from my fingers and hits the floor, forgotten.
My arms lift instinctively, winding around his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no space left to negotiate.
His kiss is fierce, desperate, like he’s trying to anchor himself to me.
Or maybe he’s terrified I’ll disappear if he lets go.
The need between us isn’t new. It never fades. It sharpens with distance, with danger, with every second we spend pretending we aren’t constantly on borrowed time.
When he pulls back, the loss rips a sound from my throat before I can stop it.
A whimper—soft, humiliating, honest. His hands slide from my hair to my face, cupping my cheeks with a touch that’s both tender and unbreakably firm, like he’s holding something precious and fragile and dangerous all at once.
My eyes flutter open.
Blue. Always blue. They burned the first moment I met him, and they burn now, brighter, wounded. He leans in again, close enough that I feel his breath on my lips, but he stops short of kissing me.
“Elena,” he whispers.
My name trembles on his mouth, heavy with pain and longing and that fierce, suffocating protectiveness that’s as much a part of him as his bones.
“Please,” he pleads quietly. “Don’t ever do that again to me.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting the sting behind my eyes. His breath ghosts over my skin, intoxicating, addictive.
“Alexei…”
“I know you think I’m impenetrable,” he continues, rough now. “That nothing can touch me.”
“I don’t think that,” I protest quickly, heat rushing to my face. “I’m not… there’s no one better than you?—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” His hands press my cheeks together, tilting my head back until I have no choice but to look at him. “Bullet wounds. Cuts. Bruises. They heal.” His jaw tightens. “If I were to lose you…”
“You won’t,” I interrupt, too fast, too sharp. “You won’t.”
His thumb softens as it brushes a strand of damp hair back behind my ear. “I almost did,” he reminds me quietly. He exhales, sharp and shaky. “If Braydon hadn’t been there today… I would have died.”
The words hit like a blow.
I close my eyes and step back, the sudden space between us cold and wrong. His hands fall away as I turn, my throat closing. He was put in that position because of me. Because I made the decision to do it on my own. The guilt settles. Heavy. Crushing. Like stone anchoring me in place.
“I don’t want to hear that.”
“It’s the truth.” His words are blunt, making sure I understand the gravity of them. “He was lucky they could even bring me back.”
“Stop!” I whirl around, fury and fear colliding in my chest.
For a second, something cracks through his expression. I’ve seen love there. Worry. Anger. Fear. But this… this is different. It’s defeat. Stark and naked and gone almost as soon as I register it.
He reaches for me again, and this time I don’t pull away. I don’t have it in me to fight.
“I may not always be here to protect you.”
My head shakes violently. “What are you saying?” My voice trembles, sharp with fear. “Why are you saying this?”
“Because we keep doing this,” he exhales through a clenched jaw. “We keep breaking our promises. We keep running headfirst into danger alone, thinking that sacrificing ourselves is the same as protecting each other.”
My heart pounds faster with every word. He’s right. That’s the worst part.
I fist my hands in his tank top, my fingers brushing the solid muscle beneath. He flexes unconsciously at my touch.
“Then I’ll stop,” I commit fiercely. “I promise. No more. We do this together.”
“Elena—”
“No.” I slide my hands up to his face, forcing him to look at me. “Say it. Say you’ll do the same.”
He covers my hands with his, sighing. “We’re built differently, Elena. I was forged for this. Trained to protect you?—”
“I don’t care,” I cut in. “None of that matters if you aren’t here with me.”
His forehead rests against mine. The fight drains out of him. “Alright.”
My head bobs, hope blooming painfully in my chest. “Alright?” I whisper. “Together?”
“Together,” he confirms.
His thumb traces my lip, slow and reverent. Then he kisses my temple and leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. “Just remember,” he murmurs, “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I’ll burn the whole world down if I have to.”
A shiver races down my spine, warmth flooding my chest.
“I’ll settle for Wendell,” I murmur, trying to tease. “And whoever’s behind him.”
He pulls back, his expression hardening into resolve. “He’ll face justice.”
A promise.
“Hannah?” I ask.
“We’ll get her back,” he confirms without hesitation. “I swear.”
“I know.”
He kisses me again, hard, consuming, protective. When I pull back, I rest my cheek against his chest, letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat ground me, even as fear for Hannah coils tight inside me.
His arms tighten, and then the world tilts as he lifts me, carrying me toward the bed, away from the light, away from everything else, until the moment, us, dissolves into darkness.