Page 26 of Dark Promise

“Lucky,” I repeat, my voice faint. “That’s one word for tonight. Just not one I would have chosen.”

He dabs at the cut with a clean square of gauze dampened with antiseptic, his movements precise but gentle. The sting makes me wince, but it’s nothing compared to the heat pooling in my chest at his proximity. The room feels smaller, the air heavier, as his focus stays locked on me.

“Why do you call me goddess?” The question slips out before I can stop it, the words trembling in the air between us. I’ve wondered since the first time he said it—the weight it carries, the way it feels like more than just a nickname. Like it means something I’m afraid to name.

His hand stills mid-motion, the cloth pausing against my temple. When his gaze meets mine, it’s not the cool, calculating stare I expect. It’s raw, focused, and so intense it feels like it could peel back my skin and see everything I’m trying to hide. There’s no smirk, no trace of mockery. Just him, completely unguarded for the briefest of moments.

“Because that’s what you are,” he says, his voice low and steady, each word deliberate as he finishes with two precise butterfly bandages, his touch gentle. “A goddess doesn’t bow. She doesn’t break. She rules.”

The words land heavy, punching the air from my lungs. My heart stutters. The warmth of his breath brushes against my cheek, and for a second, everything else—the cold, the danger, the impossible situation we’re in, the fact that he is my enemy—fades into the background. It feels as though the cabin itself is holding its breath.

The moment shatters as he stands, the spell breaking. His expression is shuttered again, locked behind that unshakable wall of control.

“Done,” he says briskly, stepping away like nothing happened. He moves toward the stove, crouching to add another log. “Get some rest. You need it.”

“What about you?”

He pokes at the fire, his back to me. “I’ll rest when it’s safe.”

“Safe,” I repeat, the word thick with bitterness. “You keep saying that like you didn’t drag me into this, Nikolai.” My voice shakes. “You’re the reason I’m not safe.”

He doesn’t turn, but his shoulders tense, the faintest reaction to my words. “I’m the reason you’re alive,” he says quietly, his tone carrying a weight that makes my stomach twist.

I swallow hard, hating that he’s right. Hating him forbeingright.

“Why?” I demand. “Why go to all this trouble for me? What do you want, Nikolai?”

Finally, he turns, his piercing blue eyes locking on mine, freezing me in place. The firelight dances across his face, throwing sharp shadows that only emphasize the predatory edge of his features. He takes a step closer, then another, until he’s standing over me, the heat of his presence suffocating.

“What I want,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark, “is for you to understand that you’re not some pawn in this game, Sabina. You’re the prize.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. I want to scoff, to throw them back in his face, but the intensity in his gaze makes my throat tighten. It’s not just a line—it’s a declaration, a promise wrapped in danger. And that terrifies me almost as much as the way my body responds to him, the treacherous heat that refuses to fade.

I glare up at him, determined not to let him see the cracks forming in my armor.

“The prize? You mean a tool you can use to form an alliance with my brother,” I snap, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Go to hell.”

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile, and he leans down just enough that I feel his breath against my skin. His lips are a whisper from mine.

“I’ve already been there, goddess,” he says softly. “More than once.”

The fire crackles behind him, the only sound in the heavy silence that follows. He straightens, his movements deliberate, and strides toward the door without another word.

I stay frozen in the chair, the weight of his words pressing against me like an iron chain. I hate him. I despise him. And yet, the image of him standing over me, his voice like a dark caress, is seared into my mind.

When he disappears into the storm to check the perimeter, I let out a shuddering breath, forcing myself to focus on the warmth of the fire and not the heat still burning low in my belly.

Nikolai Ivanov is a man who takes what he wants, a man who bends the world to his will. And tonight, for reasons I can’t fathom, he’s decided that includes me. He isn’t a man who just brushes up against the world—he leaves fingerprints on its very core.

And now he wants to leave his fingerprints on me.

8

Nikolai

Sabina finally falls asleep,curled in the oversized chair by the fire, the coat I forced her to wear still wrapped around her like armor. She looks delicate, her breathing soft and even, but I know better. Sabina Russo is a blade hidden in silk—sharp, unyielding, and dangerously tempting.

I can’t afford to let her tempt me now. Not when I need to focus. Not when the wrong move could set this delicate balance—this fragile agreement with her brother—tumbling into chaos.

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