Chapter 14 Aleksandr
ALEKSANDR
I'm through the door before the echo of the gunshot fades, rifle in hand, my body moving on pure instinct.
Maya's bedroom door flies open behind me, and I hear her sharp intake of breath, but I don't look back.
Can't look back. Every sense I have is focused on the darkness beyond the windows, cataloging threats, calculating angles.
"Stay inside," I bark over my shoulder. "Lock the door behind me."
"Sasha, wait—"
But I'm already out, the cold air hitting my face like a slap.
The moon is high enough to cast shadows across the snow, turning the landscape into a patchwork of silver and black.
My breath forms clouds as I move along the tree line, the rifle comfortable in my hands despite the fact that I shouldn't know how to hold it this well.
Another shot cracks through the night, further away this time. East, maybe half a mile. I freeze, listening, my heart steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system. There's no follow-up. No shouting. No sounds of pursuit or panic.
Just silence settling back over the mountains like a blanket.
I stay out there for another twenty minutes, circling the cabin in widening arcs, checking for any sign that someone's been close enough to be a threat. But there's nothing.
When I finally go back inside, Maya's standing in the living room with another rifle I didn't even know she had, her blonde hair mussed from sleep.
"Well?" Her voice is steady, but I can see the fear in those dark blue eyes.
"Nothing. Whoever fired those shots wasn't close enough to be an immediate threat." I set the rifle down and run a hand through my hair. "Could be hunters. Could be someone trying to flush us out."
"At three in the morning?"
"People hunt at weird hours." But I don't believe it, and neither does she. "I'll look for tracks in the morning when there's light to see by."
We don't go back to sleep. We sit at the kitchen table, drinking coffee that's too strong and too bitter, watching the windows for movement that never comes.
Maya's foot bounces under the table, a nervous habit I've noticed before.
I want to reach over and still it, to pull her into my lap and promise her everything will be fine.
But I can't promise that. Not when I don't even know who I am or who is after us. Or if they're after her or me.
Dawn comes slowly, painting the snow in shades of pink and gold. The moment there's enough light to see by, I'm pulling on my boots.
"I'm going to check it out," I tell Maya. "See if I can find where those shots came from."
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
Her jaw sets in that stubborn line I'm learning to recognize. "It's my property. I'm coming."
"Maya—"
"Don't 'Maya' me. You're not leaving me here alone to wonder if you're coming back." She's already grabbing her coat, her movements sharp with determination. "Besides, I know these woods better than you do."
She has a point. A frustrating, valid point.
"Fine. But you stay behind me, and if I tell you to run, you run. Understood?"
"Understood." But the way she says it suggests she has no intention of following that order if it comes down to it.
We head east, following the direction the second shot came from. The snow is deep enough that walking is slow work, and I find myself watching Maya more than I should. The way her ass moves in those jeans should be a crime. My cock stirs just looking at her.
She's beautiful and tough, and I'm an idiot for noticing at a time like this.
We find the spot about forty minutes later. Shell casings in the snow, still bright and unfrosted. Fresh tracks, but not the kind that suggest stealth or surveillance. These are the heavy, careless prints of someone who wasn't trying to hide their presence.
"Poachers," Maya says, crouching to examine the casings. "Probably went after an elk or deer."
I scan the area, looking for a blood trail, for any sign of what they were shooting at. There. A spray of red against white snow, leading deeper into the trees. The tracks follow it, two sets of boots, moving with the purposeful stride of people tracking wounded prey.
"You're right." The words taste like disappointment in my mouth. "Just poachers."
Maya looks up at me, and something in my expression makes her frown. "You sound almost upset about that."
"I'm not upset."
"You are. You wanted it to be a threat." She stands, brushing snow from her knees. "Why would you want that?"
Because part of me was hoping for violence. For a clear enemy I could eliminate. For an excuse to use the skills that keep surfacing in my muscle memory, the cold efficiency that feels more natural than it should.
"I don't know," I lie.
We head back to the cabin in silence, and then a memory slams into me without warning. I stop in my tracks, my eyes squeezed shut while I grab both sides of my head.
A phone in my hand, a voice on the other end reporting a problem.
Someone skimming from my operations, someone who thought I wouldn't notice.
I listen to the details with the same detached focus I bring to everything, my mind already calculating the cost of his betrayal and the cost of letting it slide. There is no middle ground in my world.
"Handle it," I say, and the words carry the weight of finality.
Two words. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
The satisfaction that follows is immediate and pure, a clean efficiency that settles into my bones like it belongs there.
A problem identified, a solution executed.
I feel nothing as I end the call. No pity.
No anger. Just the cold calculation of a loose end being tied off, and somewhere deep in my chest, something that might be contentment if I allowed myself to name it.
The sound that follows is sharp and wet. The man crumples. And I feel… satisfaction. Not pleasure, exactly. But the clean efficiency of a problem solved. A loose end tied off.
I stumble, catching myself against a tree. My heart is racing now, my breath coming too fast.
"Sasha?" Maya's voice cuts through the memory. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." I straighten, forcing my breathing to steady. "Just slipped."
She doesn't believe me. I can see it in the way she studies my face, the concern in those blue eyes. But she doesn't push, just waits until I'm ready to keep walking.
By the time we get back to the cabin, the sun is fully up, and my hands have stopped shaking. Maya heads straight for the bathroom, and I hear the water start running. A bath. She's taking a bath.
I should give her privacy. Should use this time to check the perimeter again, to review our security measures, to do literally anything other than what I'm about to do.
But I'm already moving toward the bathroom door.
It's cracked open, steam curling out into the hallway. Through the gap, I can see her silhouette through the frosted shower curtain. She's already in the tub, her head tilted back, her blonde hair pinned up in a messy knot.
I push the door open wider.
"Sasha?" Her voice is surprised but not alarmed. "What are you doing?"
"Joining you." I'm already pulling off my shirt, my hands moving to the waistband of my pants. "Unless you're going to tell me no."
She doesn't tell me no, just watches with those dark blue eyes as I strip down, her gaze traveling over my chest, my abs, and lower. The heat in her expression makes my cock harden.
The tub is small, barely big enough for one person, let alone two.
But I climb in anyway, the hot water a shock after the cold morning air.
Maya shifts to make room, and suddenly, we're pressed together, her soft curves against my hard muscle, her breasts brushing my chest while those long legs wrap around my waist.
"This is a terrible idea," she murmurs, but her hands are already sliding up my arms, feeling the flex of muscle under scarred skin.
"Probably." I cup her face, tilting it up so I can see her properly. Water droplets cling to her eyelashes, and her lips are slightly parted.
The kiss is slow at first, exploratory, like we have all the time in the world. But then her tongue slides against mine, and something in me snaps. I deepen the kiss, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.
She makes a sound in the back of her throat that goes straight to my cock. I'm already hard, pressed against her stomach, and when she shifts her hips, grinding against me, I groan into her mouth.
"Turn around," I growl against her lips.
She obeys, turning so her back is to my chest. The position puts her ass directly against my cock, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to just take her right now, hard and fast.
But I want to savor this, want to make her fall apart before I do.
My hands slide around to cup her breasts, feeling the weight of them, the way her nipples harden under my palms. She arches into my touch, her head falling back against my shoulder.
"Sasha," she breathes, and hearing my name on her lips like that makes me want to do very bad things to her. Bad but pleasurable.
I pinch her nipples, rolling them between my fingers, and she gasps. One of my hands slides lower, over the soft curve of her stomach, between her thighs. She's already wet, and not just from the bathwater.
"Spread your legs," I command, and she does, as far as the sides of the tub will allow, letting me touch her properly.
I find her clit, circling it with my thumb while two fingers slide inside her. She's tight and hot, and the way she clenches around my fingers makes me see stars.
"Please," she whimpers, her hips moving against my hand. "Sasha, please."
"Please what?" I bite down gently on her shoulder, feeling her shudder. "Tell me what you want."
"You. Inside me. Now."
I don't need to be told twice. I lift her slightly, positioning her over my cock, and then I slide into her in one smooth thrust. We both groan at the sensation, the perfect fit of our bodies.
The water sloshes over the sides of the tub as I start to move, my hands gripping her hips, guiding her rhythm. She braces her hands on the sides of the tub, giving me better leverage, and I take full advantage, driving up into her harder, deeper.
"God, yes," she gasps, her inner muscles clenching around me. "Just like that."
I reach around to find her clit again, rubbing tight circles while I thrust up into her. The combination makes her cry out, her whole body tensing.
"Come for me," I growl in her ear. "Let me feel it."
She does, her orgasm crashing over her with enough force that she nearly collapses. I hold her up, keep moving, chasing my own release. When it hits, it's like being struck by lightning, pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, the water cooling around us. Finally, Maya shifts, turning in my arms so she can face me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, and she's smiling.
We eventually drag ourselves out of the tub, both of us water-wrinkled and exhausted. Maya wraps herself in a towel and heads to her bedroom to get dressed. I follow, pulling on clean clothes from the small pile I've accumulated.
We collapse into bed still damp, her body curling against mine like it belongs there. I pull her closer, my hand splayed across her lower back, and she falls asleep almost immediately, her breathing evening out against my chest. I follow her into darkness, my mind finally quiet.
Morning light filters through the curtains when I wake.
Maya is still asleep beside me, her blonde hair spread across the pillow.
My eyes drift to the nightstand, to the framed photograph I've never bothered to examine closely.
A young woman stares back at me, maybe eighteen, with the same sharp cheekbones, the same defiant tilt to her chin.
But her hair is different, shorter and lighter now.
But's it's clear to me that I'm looking at a picture of Maya.