Page 118 of For a Price

…and the pakhan is the second.

An icy shudder vibrates through my spine.

It was a physical response I had no control over, yet it still disturbs me. It makes me feel disgusting and like my body betrayed me.

I’ve never wanted to be a victim. I never wanted anyone’s pity.

That was true when I was a stray kid on the streets sleeping in bus terminals and pickpocketing strangers, and it’s damn sure true now as a grown woman.

Even after what’s happened recently.

I’m no one’s victim.

I’ve survived everything life has thrown at me. I’ll survive this too.

The bedroom door opens. Roman comes striding through and then stops once his gaze lands on me. I blink looking over at him, realizing tears wet my cheeks.

I’ve been crying.

“Kat,” he breathes. He shuts the door and then he’s on the bed with me in a couple quick strides. I’m wrapped up in his arms again, the instant warmth of his body heat engulfing me. “Kat,” he says my name like it’s the most beautiful word he’s ever heard. “Kitty cat, why are you crying? Tell me what else is wrong and I will fix it. I will… I’ll fucking kill them. Do you hear me? I’m going to fucking kill them.”

“Just stay,” I murmur. “Please stay with me. I need you.”

He holds my tear-streaked face in his hands and nods, peering down at me in a way that stirs something deep inside me.

No one else has ever made me feel this way. No one has ever made me feel like I matter.

But he does.

I matter so much to Roman that I’m not sure I grasp to what extent.

He plants a kiss on my wet lips that’s not the passionate kind. It’s the deep, heartfelt kind that communicates our feelings.

It’s solidifying what we mean to each other.

“Ya tebya lyublyu?*, Kat,” he mutters against my lips. He kisses me again even more softly.

“I don’t know what that?—”

“I love you,” he repeats in English, his thumbs stroking my cheek. “I have fallen in love with you.”

Surprise flits across my features. It explodes inside me, yet I’m immediately aware of the only way I want to respond.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, Zver?*,” I say in broken Russian to his gruff laugh.

“Fuck,” he groans, kissing the tip of my nose. Then both my cheeks and the corner of my mouth. He presses kisses all over ’til I’m laughing with him. “You are so fucking adorable, kitty cat. I mean it.”

We settle in bed entangled in each other’s arms, a peaceful air settling over us for the first time since I’ve been rescued.

The darkness we’ve been through—and the dark times that definitely lie ahead—are off our minds for the moment.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” I ask him playfully. “And I’m your girlfriend?”

“You’re much more than my girlfriend. You’re moya lyubov’?*. My love.”

I smile. “I like the sound of that.”

“You should. No one else ever has been. Something tells me… no one else ever will be.”

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