Page 59 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

“What?”

He straightens enough that I can see his face, his beautiful, perfect features, his blonde hair falling down just a little bit over his brow. “I pushed for what I wanted so hard that I shoved myself into hibernation for over a hundred years. That did nothing, by the way. All I gained from that time-out was an appreciation for doing what I want, for taking what I want, while I still can. We don’t know how many moments we have, and now that I’ve met you, I don’t want to waste a single one without you knowing that Ido like you, Isabel Brooks, very much. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone I’ve known far longer than I’ve known you. I like you more than I’ve ever liked any other human being, more than I thought Icouldlike any other human being.”

“More, even, than the stunning Katerina?” I feel stupid asking, but I can’t help myself.

“I didn’t expect Katerina would ever do me another favor, but it appears her name causes you to feel something.” He smiles then, his face dropping back toward mine. “But yes, I like you so much more than I ever liked her, that she’s nothing to you.” Then his smiling lips meet mine again, and this time’s not at all like the last.

The last kiss was wonder and awe and worship.

This kiss? It’s heat and frenzy and need. His mouthcovers mine.His hands press me closer, urgently. His mouth’s working faster, his breath coming hot and sharp in between kisses, and then his mouth leaves mine, but it doesn’t stopmoving. He’s kissing my cheek, my temple, and then he keeps on moving down, trailing kisses down to my jaw, my neck, and then against my collarbone.

I cry out, “Leo,” and he still doesn’t stop, but he does growl possessively. I half-expect him to say,Mine.

What I don’t expect is the blaring, clanging sound of cowbells. I freeze, my whole body tightening in alarm. “What’s that?”

The way he says the words makes me think they’re swear words, but since they’re in Russian, I can’t be sure. “Our people are waiting for us.”

“You mean your people?” I ask.

He snarls. “My peopleareyour people now.”

I roll my eyes and shove away. “Okay, Fred Flintstone.”

“Who?”

“A famous caveman.” I pick up my bag. “Me, big man. You mine.”

He arches one eyebrow. “You didn’t seem to mind that I was abig mana moment ago.” A cockiness sneaks into his expression. “What was it you just said?” He ducks a little closer. “I think it was my name, you screamed.”

“Screamed?” My laughter sounds a little forced. “I just. . .barely mentioned it, is all.”

He reaches for me. “Oh, you did? How about?—”

I dance away. “No, no, your people are calling. We have to go meet them.”

“At a hotel.” His eyes are sparkling. “The nicest hotel suite in Salt Lake City.”

He drives just as fast on the way, the fingers from his free hand drawing little designs on the top of mine. But when we reach his room, his very nice, very posh hotel suite at The Grand America, easily the nicest hotel in the city, I discover that there was one thing we didn’t take into consideration.

The room’steemingwith his people. They have questions for him—so many questions. He has decisions to make, decisions about lots of governance things that must have piled up while he was masquerading as a horse with me. I try to listen for a while, but it’s all in Russian, and I have no idea what’s going on, and eventually, I fall asleep on the sofa.

Strong but gentle arms move me at some point, but I swear, all I remember is a murmured word that sounds like, moy you doragoy solnyshka. And then I drift off for good.

Chapter16

Izzy

When I wake up, I’m no longer in the hotel. I don’t even think I’m in Utah, though I’m not sure quite where I am.

It’s freezing cold, and I’m definitely not dressed for the weather.

I blink and blink, and then I look around. The sun hasn’t come up yet, so it must still be the middle of the night. There’s a large, beautiful fountain behind me in what appears to be a town square, but there’s no water running through it.

Or rather, there would be, perhaps, but the water’s frozen.

And then it starts to snow. I shiver violently, and I rub my hands along my arms. How did I get here? Did Leonid bring me to this strange place? I don’t understand what’s going on.

A little blond boy who must have been sleeping a few feet away sits up then, rubs his eyes, and starts to cry. He can’t be more than ten or eleven years old. I stand up and walk toward him, but he doesn’t even glance my way.

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