Page 92 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

She scowls. “Leo, drag him outside and dump him on the sidewalk, and then leave him alone.”

I straighten. “I’m the czar of Russia, and I have the power to gut thousands. Maybe millions.” I jab my finger at the waste of space on the ground. “This one hurt you.” I want him to suffer. I want tomakehim suffer. “I told you I’d burn the world down for you.”

She steps closer, and she turns her head up. “But will you spare the world for me?”

It’s harder.

Burning the world comes naturally to me.

Sparing it?

Ugh.

“He deserves it,” I say, aware that I’m whining now like a petulant child.

She goes up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my mouth. Her lips are soft, and her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me down toward her. I fall against her, consuming her in a way I never have before. She’s everything I need. Light to my dark, balm to my fury, calm to my rage. All my bottled-up, shaky desire to decimate slowly, surely ebbs away.

“That was sneaky,” I whisper against her mouth.

She smiles, and then she winces.

I forgot about her lip.

I reach out with just a ribbon of water and a touch of air, and the bruising on her face, the cut on her lip, and the tiny laceration under her eyedisappear.

“I would do anything for you,” I say. “Even. . .” I huff. “Even this, I guess.”

“You promise?” She stares into my eyes.

And I nod. “Even this.”

“What about the next one?” she asks.

I groan. “Are you talking about your neighbor? Because if that idiot hit on you too, then?—”

She laughs, pressing a hand to my chest. “I meant, the next time a small, dark person like him does something stupid. Will you let me help you know what to do?”

I step back, finding it hard to separate myself from her hand. “When I was a horse, you wanted to break me, right?” I narrow my eyes at her. “You wanted me to do anything you asked, using your feet, your hands, and a metal bit to force me if I balked.”

She frowns.

“You wanted me—Leonid Ivanovich, ruler of the largest country in the world—to submit completely to you.”

“I’m not saying?—”

I press a finger to her mouth. Her beautiful, perfect mouth. “Just a nod would be fine.”

She’s half-smiling as she nods. “I guess,” she mumbles against my finger.

I drop my hand, and I duck so my face is right in front of hers. “It almost killed me when you broke our bond.” I press a small kiss to the side of her mouth. “I liked that bond. I wanted an excuse to have you around.”

“I had to know,” she says. “I had to know whether I really liked you, or whether I was just stuck with you by fate or the universe or some kind of magic.”

I freeze. “And?”

“When I was out, I dreamed of you. I saw what was probably your worst pain. And when I woke up, all I could think about was you.”

Shoot. Should I not have kissed her? Should I have given her more space? Did I rush over here and mess this up?

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