Page 81 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

I stood as he approached, breath caught in my throat, heart hammering.

His eyes were wild.Dark.Full of something sharp, hot, and barely contained.He stopped just in front of me, close enough that I felt the heat of him.

“Why does it matter?”he asked, his voice rough and tight, trembling just beneath the surface.“You go home every night to Vera, don’t you?”

I said nothing.

His voice rose, edged with fury and hurt.“So it’s fine for you to go home and fuck your wife, but I can’t fuck some girl who doesn’t even know my name?One night.One stupid night to throw them off the scent, and you’re looking at me like I betrayed you?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Because they were true.Except, for the part he didn’t know.I’d never touched Vera that way.Not once.She was my shield, my co-conspirator, my friend.But never my lover.We shared secrets, not bedsheets.And if I told Dimitri that, I’d put Vera in danger.

So I kept my mouth shut.

I bowed my head.Stared at the floor.The silence between us roared louder than his shouting ever could.

I felt his hands on my shoulders.

Not gentle.

He shook me.Hard enough that my teeth clacked together, hard enough that I gasped.

“I can’t do this anymore!”he shouted, right in my face.

My eyes flew up to his.They were glassy, burning.Desperate.

“We’re done, Petyr!Do you hear me?Done.”His voice cracked like ice under weight.“If I have to find a woman, I will.And I’ll marry her and fuck her every night and smile through it.I’ll learn how to lie like you do.Because I can’t live like this anymore.”He let go of me and took a step back.

My shoulders sagged without his grip to hold them up.

He was breathing hard, like the words had stolen the air right out of him.

I wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat.I couldn’t speak around the guilt.The shame.The terror of losing him.

I had no defense.

Dimitri grabbed my wrist.I flinched, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care.

He dragged my hand down and pressed it against the front of his pants.

“This is what you want, right?”His voice was a growl, low and shaking.

The heat of him burned through the fabric.He was rock hard.

My fingers twitched, not sure whether to pull away or hold on.My chest ached, and I felt my throat closing up.

Tears blurred my vision.

“That’s all you want,” he spat.“Just that.Just another fuck.Like all those quick ones in dark alleyways and at Sanctuary.And when it’s over, you go home to your wife and your goddamn lies.”

He let go of my hand like it disgusted him.

Before I could breathe, he grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me onto the bed.

I hit the mattress with a grunt, splayed out across the crumpled sheets and the ruined shirt.

A jolt of fear shot through me—dark, familiar.But what drowned me even more was the shame.

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