Page 23 of Emerald Malice

I could prove him wrong right now. I could shoot him—just in the leg, nothing crazy, nothing fatal—and watch his smug confidence bleed out of him.

The clock ticks in the corner. Andrey raises his hand slowly to take the gun.

“Don’t,” I whisper as a tear slides down my cheek.

His eyes lock in on that one tear as though he’s never seen something quite as offensive. “Drop the gun, lastochka.”

A sob slips from between my lips. I’m gripping the gun so tightly that it really is in danger of going off in my hand. Maybe that’s what I want…

His hand is inches from mine. Just when I think he’s going to grab the gun, his fingers brush against mine instead. In the end, that’s all it takes. One moment of skin-to-skin contact and the fight leaves my body. I surrender the weapon.

He tucks it smoothly into its holster before his attention is back on me. “Are you okay?”

I blink stupidly, cheeks wet with tears. “I just held a gun to your head and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“I don’t waste my time with fear.”

Bullshit, I want to spit in his face. Everyone is scared of something. I’m scared of guns and rainy midnights—and now, you.

But this man in front of me… He’s not bluffing. He’s not pretending. He’s immune to all the little things that have kept me in the same small circles all my life.

If only I could imbibe just a little bit of his confidence, a little bit of his fearlessness… maybe then I could have an adventure of my own, instead of piggybacking on everyone else’s.

“I’m not like you,” I whisper, not really sure myself what’s coming next. “But… I wish I was.”

He grazes my cheek with his hand. “One of me is more than enough, Natalia Boone. What the world needs is more of you.”

Like everything else Andrey says, I believe it immediately. On a bone-deep, cell-deep, soul-deep level. I feel like a tuning fork that’s been waiting its whole life to meet the right vibration—and now, I’m just resonating with him.

I start thinking crazy things. Maybe, just for tonight, I can be the right kind of person.

Someone adventurous; someone fearless.

Someone like him.

He nudges my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. Blue. Those little flecks hiding amidst the gray, they’re a deep, dark blue. I’ve never seen eyes like his before.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks.

My lips tremble with the weight of all the answers I ought to give. You should. It’d be better for all of us if you did.

Instead, I say the one thing I never, ever should’ve said.

“No.”

His lips find mine, soft as a whisper. I’m overwhelmed by the scent of whiskey for a moment, then warmth slides over my body like a second skin.

I stretch onto my tiptoes and suddenly, I’m the one deepening the kiss. I’m the one grabbing the lapels of his jacket. I’m the one pressing my body against his and mewling for more.

It feels like the world dissolves. It wilts away around us and all I can see and hear and think is him.

My clothes wilt away, too, as Andrey’s mouth trails kisses down the curve of my throat. It isn’t until a blast of chilly A/C ripples over my bare skin that I remember just how we got in this position.

Suddenly self-conscious, I peel away from him and hug myself. “I… I should take a shower first.”

Andrey is half-cloaked in shadow. “No.” He grazes my breasts the same way he grazed my cheek. There’s a tenderness in his touch that surprises me. “Once I’m done with you, all you’re going to smell like is me.”

It sounds like a threat, but my skin sizzles with adrenaline. My hand twitches towards him, desperate to make some contact, take charge in some way.

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