Page 70 of Inked Adonis

“Shit.” I try to turn away from him, but he catches me.

Instead of letting me hide, he palms my shoulders. “You know what terrifies me, Nova?”

I shake my head, still trying to turn away as tears slip free.

“The thought of you bleeding out in my arms because you decided to play hero.” His fingers dig into me. “Do you have any idea what that would do to me?”

“I wasn’t trying to?—”

“Look at me.”

I lift my wet face. “You ran in front of the gun, too, you know.”

“You think I give a fuck about my own safety compared to yours?” The muscle in his jaw jumps. “You think my life or my pain or anything in this goddamn city matters to me more than keeping you safe?”

“Sam—”

“Tell me why you did it.”

“Because I couldn’t watch someone else hurt something helpless!” The words burst out of me. “I couldn’t just stand there while—while?—”

“While what?”

“While someone bigger used their power to cause pain.” More tears spill. “I won’t ever just stand there again. I can’t.”

“Ah,moya malen’kaya.” All the rage drains from his voice. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his chest. “You protect everyone but yourself.”

He carries me to the armchair by the window, settling me in his lap. His hand presses firm and steady against my back.

“I-I’m really o-okay,” I splutter, hating how small my voice sounds. “This is... s-silly.”

“You’re in shock. That isn’t silly.” His thumb brushes away a tear. “And you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

But it is silly. I’ve been here before. Grew up here. Should be used to it by now.

When the tears finally dry and I think I can stand without shaking, I move to slide away. Sam holds me still. His hand traces slow circles on my back, growing wider until his fingers brush my waist, my hip with each pass. His thumb grazes the clasp of my bra, and a different kind of heat sparks between us.

“Who was that man?” My voice breaks the quiet of the dark room, where night has settled on the city, yellow light spilling from millions of windows into the sky.

Sam’s hand stiffens on my waist. “His name is Ilya. He’s my half-brother.”

“That was your brother?” I dig through my memory, trying to see past the gun to find any trace of Sam in the man who shares his blood.

“We’re not exactly on the best of terms,” he adds.

“The gun was kind of a tip-off. But... I don’t understand?—”

“There’s a lot you won’t understand about me and my family, Nova,” he cuts me off. “And there’s even more I can’t tell you.”

I want to know everything—every dark corner, every twisted secret. But I bite my tongue. I’ve seen what the internet says about Samuil Litvinov. Millions of people poke into his life, desperate for every sordid detail. I refuse to be one of the horde.

Instead, I sink deeper against his body, letting him know it’s okay if he can’t tell me everything. But also letting him know that if he wants to... he can.

He gets it. Every word I’m not saying.

“My father pitted us against each other from the start,” he says into my hair. “Ilya and I are his legacy more than his children,and he wants the best man to win. Doesn’t stop him from stacking the deck when it suits him.”

“What does that mean?”

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