Page 84 of Merciless Queen

Zeno walks a bit faster, coming up beside me, almost like he can hear my racing thoughts. The run earlier proved he can match my speed, and if I randomly take off, I doubt I’d make it to the house before he catches me.

“Race?”

Zeno stares at me intently, and I bite the inside of my cheek to mask my hope.

“I cheated earlier,” I add, giving reason for my request. “Race you back to the house? See who’s actually faster this time.”

“The stakes?”

Um.Shit. Freedom.My mind scrolls through the endless possibilities of what I already know and what I don’t, coming up with the first semi-logical thing to want. “Another answer. I’m curious about your plans for Dimitri and my uncle, after you’ve finished with me.”

He blinks slowly, tilting his head to the side with a murmured, “Alright. When you’re ready then…and no cheating.”

“No cheating this time,” I promise. He’ll be the winner regardless because reaching the villa isn’t my endgame.

He whispers, “Go.” I pretend not to have heard him right away, kicking into a run half a second after he does.

He gains an entire foot in front of me, and still, I slow. Not enough to cause suspicion, but enough my loss could be a realistic outcome. We’re nearing the house now, with only a small rise in the ground left to get over, and I pretend it’s the hill that breaks my stride.

Zeno reaches the edge of the patio before me and comes to a stop, turning with a satisfied expression, no doubt about to lord his win.

Except I don’t hang around to hear it, and continue right past him, pushing every muscle in my body to make myself faster. Zeno curses and I hear him coming after me, as I suspected he would.

I pass the pool, the sun reflecting across the calm water, blasting a bright flash into my eyes. I keep going, heading for the road, and in complete sight of the villa’s entire surroundings. If someone’s watching me, I’m well in the open for their aim.

And yet, no bullets.

My vision alters when a hard hit knocks me to the ground, very similar to how our last race ended. I try to roll to the side asI land, but he comes down on top of me, and my face plants into the ground. Hands mixing with the grass, I try to shove up onto my knees, but his weight is enough to keep me pinned.

Large hands encompass my wrists and he yanks them above my head. His knees come around my thighs and he forces them together, rendering me useless. When he speaks, his warm breath blows over the back of my neck, sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine.

“Just when I thought you weren’t so stupid. Should’ve seen it coming.”

I turn my head, twisting to face him as much as my limited mobility allows me to. “Called your bluff. Needed to be sure there weren’t snipers.”

Rather than respond with anything I half-expect him to, his light laughter is like a gentle tune in the wind: melodic and whispered. It sends signals of ease through me, despite the entire situation being everything opposite. His head drops until his forehead kisses the back of my neck, and I feel that laughter roll down the back of my shirt, painting amusement along my spine. Slowly, he releases my hands to place his by my head, lifting some of his weight off me.

“You really do have trust issues. So much so, you risked your life testing what I’ve already told you. What if I did have men watching you?”

“Took a gamble that their orders were shoot to scare, not to kill. And if I was wrong about that too, well then, guess I would have died.”

Zeno’s silent above me, but his breath hikes slightly. Perhaps he didn’t expect me to be so nonchalant about my death. I didn’t either.

After another few seconds, he lifts off me more, enough I’m able to flip to my back, even while he remains a cage over me.His position—hands by my face, legs around mine, chest a mere inch away—is downright intimate if we allowed it to be.

His green eyes reflect the lawn stretching around us, his dark hair an eclipse of the sun beaming overhead. I despise noticing every single attractive feature about him, right down to the path his tongue makes, sweeping over his bottom lip as he gazes at me, his expression similar to a man who’s gained freedom after a lifetime of captivity—amazed and stupefied.

“You’d risk your life all for a test.” It’s a statement, not a question, and comes out more as a grumble. The rumble ricochets across my chest, echoing an emotion I refuse to name.

“Better than waiting around here for much longer.”

“Waiting,” he bites out and that’s when I realize what I’ve said, what I possibly gave away. But then he huffs and with a slight shake of his head, my statement seems to disappear with his half-smirk. “Fuck, Miss Volkov, you really are something else.”

“What’s that something?” I find myself asking.

“Fishing for another compliment?” The same question he threw at me in his bedroom.

“Maybe I’m trying to get into your head. Considering you know so much about me, it seems like we’re on uneven grounds, no?”

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