Page 117 of A War Apart

What was I doing? I’d moved on, fallen in love with another man. I shouldn’t be making love to Han like nothing had changed. Shame choked me. I swallowed it down and met him thrust for thrust.

Before long, his movements quickened, his breath coming in pants. I kept my frantic pace, driving him higher. When he stiffened, I smashed my lips to his, less a kiss and more a claiming, our teeth clashing together. I tasted blood—his or mine, I didn’t know.

He pulled back first, looking at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “I missed you, Milochka.”

I looked away. I was despicable. He’d been risking his life, fighting a war, and I’d given up on him. I’d left him for dead and turned to someone else for comfort, for love. I didn’t deserve his affection.

A voice came from outside the tent. “You better not be naked, Han. I’m coming in.”

Han pulled the covers over us as Yakov burst into the tent, still talking.

“Ready for today?” He took in the scene before him and froze. His eyes widened, and he turned red, clenching his fist.

I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face. Yakov was here. He seemed to have grown, adding a couple inches to his height. His freckles were somewhat faded—though it was hard to tell with the angry scarlet splotches on his cheeks.

Han scrambled to a sitting position and reached for his pants. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It better fucking not be.” He glared between us. “Because it looks to me like you just bedded some whore while your wife’s off risking her life.”

That was just like him, to defend my marital integrity. My grin widened, and I stood, brushing the wrinkles from my sarafan. “Grateful as I am for your concern, Yasha, I don’t appreciate being called ‘some whore.’”

His face went from red to white in an instant. “Mila?”

“In the flesh. Well, not my flesh, but still.” I stepped toward him, arms open.

“Prophet’s balls!” He grabbed me and swung me around. “Han said you’d been changed, but I didn’t think… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You’re not the only one.” I jerked my chin toward Han. “I think he just about collapsed.”

Yakov smirked. “He seems to have recovered well. You must have…revived him.”

“I think that’s enough.” Han grabbed his arm as I laughed. “Get out of my tent,durachok.”

Much as I would like to leave you two to ‘reviving’ each other,”—he waggled his eyebrows at us—“the tsar’s waiting for you.”

“Shit.” Han shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his new iron hand. “Mila, stay here. Yakov, don’t let her leave this tent.” He fixed us both with a stern look. “Stay safe.”

I had no intention of placing myself in danger, but I also had no intention of waiting here in the tent for him to return. “You, too,” I said.

He pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Once he was gone, I turned to Yakov. “Obviously I’m not staying here all day. What are we doing?”

He twisted his face in a grimace and glanced after Han. “I was on my way to the med tent.”

“Med tent?” I reached for the headscarf that had been delivered with the rest of my clothes.

“The Blood Bastard asked me to help out.” He tucked his hand into his pocket and shrugged. “Might as well be useful, since I can’t fight.”

Yakov Aleksandrovich was working for a Blood Bastard. I never would have believed it. From the reddening tips of his ears, I could tell there was more to the story, but now wasn’t the time.

“Could you use extra hands? I’ll go out of my mind if I don’t have something to do during the battle.”

“Never enough hands.” He waved his arm, and I laughed. “Come on, we’ll find you some work.”

Chapter forty-one

Battle

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