Page 68 of Kingmakers, Year Four

“I’ve got a lot of friends,” Sabrina smiles. “They don’t look at me like that . . .”

“Everybodylooks at you like that.” I roll my eyes.

Sabrina is sex incarnate. The way she walks, the way she stands, the sultry rasp of her voice . . . even the Chancellor couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“What was he saying to you?” I ask Sabrina. “The Chancellor, I mean.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I’m not—I saw him talking to you. What did he want?”

“He was just congratulating me,” Sabrina says carelessly.

“You should be careful around him. I don’t trust him.”

“No shit,” Sabrina says, snapping her lip gloss closed. “I know what he did to Ozzy’s mom, and to Dean. I have no intention of getting on his bad side.”

“I’m not sure his good side is a great place to be either,” I persist.

Sabrina won’t be distracted from her own initial point.

“You should dress up tonight. Really make Ares stop and stare.”

“If he likes me, then he likes me looking like this,” I say, gesturing to my usual attire.

Sabrina sighs. “Look, I’m not trying toPrincess Diariesyou. I’m just telling you, I know men . . . and it’s never a bad thing to surprise them.”

I narrow my eyes at her, sizing up the glamorous vision of Sabrina Gallo, wondering what a ten-percent dose of her moxie mightlook like on me.

“Well . . .” I say slowly. “If you promise not to go overboard . . .”

17

Ivan Petrov

St. Petersburg

Nineteen Years Ago

It’s late on a snowy December evening.

I’m fucking my wife on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire.

I can’t imagine a more perfect activity for a winter’s night. And she has never looked more stunning.

I’ve never known a woman more beautiful or ferocious. She bites the side of my neck, her teeth digging into the flesh. I have to pin her down hard in the rough, black fur, still smelling of bear oil and Siberian snow.

We wrestle together, twisting and swapping positions, our naked bodies entwined in the blazing heat of the fire.

This never fails to remind me of the night I met her. The night she tried to kill me.

Never have I fought harder for my life. Not knowing what I was really fighting for—not to save my life, but to live it more fully than I could ever have imagined.

Her flesh glows with an inner fire, not just the reflected light. Her eyes glitter like gems. Her mouth tastes richer than chocolate.

I’m ravenous for her. I trace the mounds of her breasts with my tongue. I lap at the hollow of her throat. I can’t stop inhaling her scent, thrusting my face against her neck, and even raising her arms overhead to smell beneath.

“What perfume is this?” I growl.

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