Page 11 of Inked Athena

5

SAMUIL

For two days, I’ve watched Nova pretend she isn’t afraid of me. It would be easier if she was—fear is something I understand.

It’s this trust she keeps showing that’s driving me fucking insane.

The rage is, too. It hasn’t left my blood since I found her in that ravine, broken and terrified. Every time I close my eyes, I see her there—mud-streaked and trembling, injuries that I should have prevented marring her skin.

I’ve spent these last two days watching her fight through pain, knowing I’m partly responsible. If I’d been in Chicago instead of Moscow, none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have ended up at her father’s mercy or in Ilya’s crosshairs.

The doctor who treated her injuries left an hour ago with strict instructions about rest and recovery. But Nova’s been restless since sunset, tossing and turning in the bed we’re sharing out of necessity rather than choice. The cabin only has one bedroom, and I’m not leaving her alone—not when Ilya could still be hunting her.

When I finally slip into bed beside her, it’s late. The world is dark beyond the skylight, and I can only see the silvery highlights of Nova’s cheekbones and her full lips.

But it’s enough to notice the way her lashes stir as my hand finds her hip. To register the hitch in her breathing. To register what that hitch does to mine.

Even beaten and wary, she’s the most dangerous thing in this cabin.

“You’re not asleep,” I whisper into the dark. “But I’ll let you pretend if you want to.”

We haven’t spoken about what happened in the tub earlier. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t need to.

Nova was hurt, and I wasn’t there to stop it. Now, I am. If there’s anything I can do to ease her pain, I will.

Even if it means I have to excuse myself to relieve mine immediately afterward.

She turns slightly, looking over her shoulder. In the darkness, her eyes are liquid gold. “I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?”

A wince crosses her face as she pulls back the cover to adjust her leg. “Pain.”

A dozen filthy ways I could help ease her discomfort flash through my mind—each one more depraved than the last—before I reach over her for the painkillers. The motion brings my chest flush against her back, and fuck if I don’t want to stay there, pressed against her soft curves.

Instead, I deposit two pills into her waiting palm. She swallows them dry before falling back against the pillow to stare through the skylight.

“So many stars,” she breathes. “It’s so open out here.”

“It looks that way from this vantage point, but then you step outside. There are too many trees and shadows and hidden ravines.”

Like everything else in my world, the view is a beautiful lie. Things are rarely what they seem.

The woman beside me should be the prime example of that, but she feels like one of the exceptions. One of the few pure things left in my blood-soaked life.

“Where would you rather be?”

“A place with room to breathe.” I could leave it there—probably fucking should—but the truth sneaks out of me before I can stop it. “My father’s worst punishments always happened in the dark corners of his woods.”

“Men like that want you to feel like you’re alone.” She gives me a sad smile that rips something open in my chest. “It’s why my father locked me in the basement.”

The same father who took care of her after her dog attack. The one who drove her to the penthouse so she could steal a server from me.

He never should’ve been close enough to touch her.

My hand curls into a fist, and I have to tear it away from her hip before I leave bruises.

“He’s never going to put you in that basement again. No one will lock you up, Nova.”

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