Page 44 of Inked Athena

The bed that, again, only a few hours ago, was tucked away in our ground-level bedroom on the opposite side of the house.

“What is this?”

I hold up the book I’m hiding behind. “Native Birds of Scotland.It’s very informative.”

“Nova.” The way he growls my name sends electricity dancing across my skin.

“I moved our bedroom,” I explain as cheerfully as I can with him scowling at me. “What do you think?”

I know what he thinks. Part of the reason I moved the bedroom up here is because I knew exactly what he’d think.

But this is what he gets for giving me so much time to myself.

His jaw tightens as he takes in my handiwork. The candles cast shadows that dance across his sharp features, turning him from man to demon and back again.

“We agreed I should find a project,” I remind him.

“I was talking about that damn rowboat. Something small. Something that I’d probably never let you—” He stops himself with another growl, but I know what he was going to say.

“Something that you could watch me fix up to kill some time and then never let me actually use?” I swallow down the new wave of anger that brings up in me and slap on a smile instead. “You like it when I stay close to the house, so, for the last few days, that’s what I did.”

He’s tense and fuming, and he’s still the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen. Despite it all, I just wish I saw more of him.

I throw back the quilts, revealing the pale pink silk that clings to my curves. His anger fractures, desire bleeding through the cracks.

I pat the mattress. “Come to bed.”

His jaw works back and forth as his eyes do the same, raking over me again and again. “It took me fucking forever to hike up here,” he grumbles, striding across the room towards me.

But as he does, he catches his foot on the gargantuan wooden trunk at the end of the bed. A string of Russian words I’m familiar with only because he often uses them to describe his brother flies out of his mouth.

“Sorry,” I wince. “Our clothes are in there since this room doesn’t have a closet.”

“This room doesn’t have fucking anything.” His gaze catches on the flickering candles. Understanding dawns. “Is there even electricity?”

I wince again, which must be answer enough because he curses.

No electricity was actually a selling point for me. No Wi-Fi, no devices—when we’re in our room, we’ll be completely cut off from the rest of the world.

“Is this payback?” he demands. “Are you doing this to prove something to me? Because I’d rather just have it out with you than climb a mountain to get to bed every night.”

I roll my eyes and slide out of bed, not missing the way Samuil tracks my every movement. Part of me would rather just “have it out” with him, too.

But he needs to hear this.

“It might’ve started that way,” I concede. “I was bored and lonely and it just kept raining and raining?—”

“I think it’s still raining.” His hand darts out, pinching the soft silk between his fingers like he can’t help himself.

“I just wanted to feel useful. But now that I’m up here—now that I see how it could be…” I turn to admire the thick, velvet curtains, the layered rugs over the stone floor, the candles dripping wax on each nightstand. “I like it up here, Sam.”

He steps behind me, his warm body molding to my back. I arch against him and drop my head to his shoulder. “There’s not even a bathroom up here, Nova,” he murmurs in my ear.

The trek down to the bathroom is grim, I’ll give him that. As this baby gets bigger, I’m going to have to get used to pitch black, late night walks to the bathroom or go full medieval and get myself a chamber pot.

But I’ll deal with that later. Right now?—

“Come with me.” I take his hand and pull him towards the secret door in the corner.

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