Page 104 of My Wild Horse King

I clear my throat, but before I can tell her that I’m glad she was there when those kids and that dog came along on that street, she looks down at her feet.

What does that mean? Is she annoyed with me? Does it make her uncomfortable that I saved her?

“Gustav.” She looks right at me. “I think?—”

I can’t hear it. Whatever she’s about to tell me, I’m not ready to hear it. I can’t lie here in bed while she tells me that she’s not into me. I haven’t eventriedto convince her that I’m not that bad yet.

“No, Katerina, I have to say something first.” I shove upward until I’m sitting. “Okay?”

She nods, her mouth closing with an audible snap.

Now that I have her attention, though, I’m not sure quite what to say. “Um, so.” I swallow. “The reason I saved you earlier?—”

“Fifty hours ago, you mean?” She’s smirking now.

I break into a smile. “Yes. I guess that’s what I mean.”

“And?”

“I can’t take my eyes off you,” I whisper. “I know you came here to try and win Alexei back, and I know that I’m this pathetic guy who only cared about his company, and who now can barely even shift a pile of dirt, and I know that Leonid’s coming for us or whatever, and it’s not a good time, but?—”

Katerina stands up, and when she starts walking, I worry she’s about to storm out.

I bite my lip, but she hangs a left around the side of the bed and grabs the collar of my strange, probably-borrowed nightshirt, and she pulls my head toward her. “I thought you were never going to say anything, you idiot.”

Then she presses her mouth against mine.

I’ve been sleeping for more than two days, so I’m sure I’m not at my best. I have no idea what my hair looks like, for instance, and I’m not sure what I smell like. Hopefully nothing too bad.

But I forget about all of it.

Her hands on my lapels loosen, and her palms flatten against my chest, and I roar, my arms going around her backside and dragging her up and onto my lap. Her legs straddle my middle, and I turn my head so my mouth can slant down over hers.

The door to the bedroom opens, and a familiar voice asks, “You guys alright?”

We freeze, and I slowly shift to look around Katerina’s messy bun.

It’s Gabe.

Sweet, eager, adorable little teenage ball of energy, Gabe. The one who’s been turning us into cartoon comic book characters for the past decade. I’m in his room, I think, and Katerina’s basically straddling me on what’s probably his bed.

She scrambles off my lap, her hands smoothing down her shirt and hair frantically.

His laughter’s like the report of a cannon—high, clear, and sharp. “Mom heard something, and she wanted me to see if you were awake.” He nods slowly. “I’m gonna tell her you’re still sleeping.” He winks and closes the door.

I love that kid.

I reach for Katerina, but she slaps my hand away. Sheissmiling, though, so I’m thinking it’s not really bad.

“What?” I shrug. “He said he’d tell her that?—”

She rolls her eyes. “Guys are all the same.”

“Hardly.” I fold my arms over my chest and flex a little. “I’m way better looking and more competent than that stupid czar baby.”

“You can’t call him a baby. He’s a hundred years older than you.”

I pull a face. “Don’t tell me that’s what you’re into, because if so, I should warn Amanda Saddler to watch out. Her husband’s almost that old.”

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