Page 28 of Dark Promise

I sit down across from her, my gun resting on the table within easy reach. The fire crackles, its light dancing across the room. She shifts in her sleep, one hand coming to rest against the high curve of her breast. Her breathing changes, growing shallow and uneven, her lips moving as if she’s speaking in some half-formed dream. A soft, almost imperceptible sound escapes her, a breathy whisper that sends my imagination spiraling to dangerous places.

A wave of lust rises in me, mingling with an intense feeling of possessiveness, the combination so strong it almost knocks me off balance.

I force myself to look away, to keep my focus sharp. I have no doubt that Leo’s men will be here as soon as the storm allows. They’ll have questions, doubts—but Leo knows what’s at stake. He knows I’m the only chance Sabina has of staying out of Mikhail’s hands. Still, when they arrive, I’ll have to make it clear. Sabina isn’t just under my protection. She’s mine.

And then there’s the threat of Vasiliev’s men. They might not be here yet, but they will be.

Let them come.

When they do, I’ll be ready. And this time, I won’t let anyone get close enough to leave a mark on her.

The only one who will leave his mark on Sabina Russo is me.

9

Sabina

I wake up late,sunlight slanting through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the cabin walls. For a moment, I just lie there, disoriented, until the memories of last night come rushing back. The fire in the stove has burned down to a few glowing embers, but the room is still warm, the faint hum of the generator steady in the background. Outside, the storm has dwindled for the moment to a gentle snowfall, the flakes catching the pale light like glitter.

I stretch, trying to work out the stiffness in my back and shoulders, only to realize I’m still curled up in the armchair by the fireplace. The dead man’s coat is draped around me, its heavy, bloodied fabric a grim reminder of everything we’ve been through. My tailored cashmere coat is beneath it, just as bloodstained. I shift uncomfortably, my movements stilted from the layers and the night spent twisted in this position.

I drag off both coats, my stomach twisting at the sight of the dried blood. Grabbing them, I cross to the cabin door and fling both outside into the snow. A cold gust of air whips at my face, and I shiver, slamming the door shut behind me. I’ll deal with them later, after I wash the blood and the memories off my skin.

I spot a neatly folded stack of clothes on the side table by the sofa—a pair of gray sweatpants and a black sweatshirt, both worn and soft. The gesture feels oddly intimate, and the intimacy unsettles me. I brush my fingers over the fabric and feel a strange warmth unfurl in my chest. Nikolai must’ve left them here while I slept. He didn’t say a word, but there’s an unspoken care in this quiet gesture. They’re his clothes—I know it instinctively. I lift them to my nose and inhale. The faint scent of amber and spice still clings to them, and I can’t help but imagine how he must’ve looked wearing them during one of his past stays here.

My mind betrays me with an image of him—shirtless, his powerful shoulders and tattooed chest flexing as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head. I clench my fists, trying to banish the thought.He’s not for you, Sabina. Not like that.

I carry the clothes to the bathroom. The shower is a simple setup—no luxury tiles or rainfall heads— but the hot water is heavenly, scalding away the chill that’s settled in my bones. I let the spray cascade over me, closing my eyes as the tension in my muscles slowly unravels.

And then, like an uninvited guest, the thought sneaks in. What would Nikolai do if he saw me like this…bare and vulnerable? Would he strip away every last defense until there was nothing left? Would I let him?

I catch my breath, my skin prickling despite the heat.Stop it, Sabina. You don’t fantasize about Nikolai fucking Ivanov. He is the enemy. He’s a threat, a danger—not a man to imagine pressed against the shower wall. Or better still, him pressingmeagainst the shower wall.

But even as I try to chase the thought away, I remember the way his hands felt on me yesterday when he pinned me down in the limo. Strong. Sure. Possessive. The memory makes me tremble—not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.My body reacts in ways I can’t control, and I press my palms to the cold tiles of the shower wall, trying to will the heat out of my blood.

He is not for you, I tell myself again. But the voice sounds hollow, like evenitdoesn’t believe me.

I step out of the shower, the chill of the tile beneath my feet a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Sliding into the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants, I feel a strange mix of comfort and unease. The fabric is soft against my skin, his scent faint and enticing, leaving me feeling like I’m wrapped in him.

I return to the main room, and wander around, looking at the array of old paperbacks on the shelves, lifting a picture in a dark green leather frame. It’s a young boy, dark hair, blue eyes, big grin, holding up a tiny fish.

The front door creaks open, and a gust of icy air sweeps into the cabin as Nikolai steps inside. He freezes when he sees me, his gaze flicking to the framed photo in my hand.

“Whose cabin is this?” I ask.

“It was my uncle’s,” he replies. “It was left to me in his will. So, I guess it’s mine. I haven’t been here for well over a year.”

“Your uncle.”

“Vlasta,” Nikolai supplies, his lips thinning. Something slides behind his blue eyes. Pain.

But it’s gone in a flash, as if it had never been there in the first place.

“Your uncle left you a cabin in the woods,” I say.

“Along with three hundred acres.”

My brows raise. “That’s a hell of a gift.”

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