Page 67 of Enemy Within
But Sasha was alive. He was still alive.
Maybe one day he could become a cosmonaut. Perhaps he still could fly into space. His Air Force career had been exemplary before the attack. His work at the Kremlin after, even more so. Why could he not follow his dreams again?
Could Sergey follow his?
Could he cross the sand, sit beside Sasha in front of the fire, and confess everything to him? Despite all of his fears, and everything stacked against him? Could he speak aloud what lived in his heart?
He’d probably be shot down, sent crashing to the earth like a fighter squaring off against Sasha in his MiG. Why was Sasha even single? He was brilliant and beautiful, eye-catching like a priceless jewel cut from a forbidden gem. Caring. Loyal. Dedicated. Sasha had no business being single, and Sergey had no business thinking he was the man who could change that.
But he had to face this. Had to confront what had grown in his soul, and what he had only realized when Sasha had ripped himself away from Sergey’s side. The ache from that, from Sasha’s leaving, still festered, a scab on the bottom of his heart.
He’d survived a career in the cutthroat FSB, survived Putin’s regime, worked his way up through the deranged and deadly ranks of Russian politics, and completed an anti-corruption purge decades in the making. He’d never been a coward before. He wouldn’t start now.
Slowly, he made his way across the beach, his boots digging into the fog-damp, dark sand. His men were scattered around the fires, some already snoring, others staying up and relishing in the simplicity of nothing. Finally, they were at rest, at least for the next few hours. They were safe on this island at the end of Russia, practically at the end of the world. Even Scott had parked himself beside a circle of low embers and fallen asleep, wrapped up in his jacket with his arms crossed over his chest. His snores bounced over the old base, snorts that could rival a bear.
Jack and Ethan were lounging together at a fire farther down the beach, and through the flickering flames, he spotted Jack’s brilliant smile and saw him tip his head back, laughing at something Ethan had said. Ethan, too, seemed relaxed in a way Sergey had never seen, leaning on his side and propped up on his elbow, gazing at Jack like Sasha stared at the stars: with wonder, with adoration, with raw, aching love.
And Sasha sat alone, huddled close to his own fire as he gazed upward.
Sergey had no idea what to say. His heart thundered as he moved closer, a physical ache against his ribs. It must be trying to escape. What was he thinking? He couldn’t do this.
Breathe. He kept walking, slipping through the sand until he hovered in front of Sasha’s fire.
Slowly, Sasha’s gaze lowered to rest on him. He stared, silent.
How did he even begin? “Sasha,” he started, grunting through his clenched throat. He tried to clear it and looked away. He couldn’t hold Sasha’s ice-blue gaze any longer. Those eyes were going to cut out his heart.
“Sasha, we need to talk,” he finally managed.
“We do not,” Sasha rumbled. “I know my place. I know what I did was wrong. I will not ask anything from you, other than this: please, let me keep fighting for you, Sergey. For your Russia.”
“What you did—” He frowned, and then sank to his knees in the sand beside the fire, just out of Sasha’s reach. “Do you mean kissing me, or do you mean leaving?”
Sasha frowned and cocked his head to one side. He blinked. “I will never apologize for doing what is right for you. We needed that intelligence. I had to make that flight.”
“There could have been another way.” Scowling, Sergey fisted his hands in the muddy sand, clenching rough grains in his palms. He felt them slip through his fingers, cold and damp. “Some other way that did not involve you risking your life. We could have done this together!”
Sasha looked away quickly. “No. My way was best. It had to be done.”
“Sasha,please—” Sergey clamped his lips shut with a sigh and stared at Sasha’s profile in the flickering firelight. Orange flames danced over his pale skin, casting him like a golden god from an ancient myth. His shoulders rose and fell, faster than before. The only sign of Sasha’s nerves. He could be like a statue sometimes.
“So, you are saying kissing me was what you did wrong?” He watched Sasha carefully, almost frantically.
There. Sasha’s jaw clenched, the muscles from his temple to his neck straining, bulging outward. His pulse leaped, bounding beneath his jaw. He shook his head. “It will not happen again.”
The words wouldn’t come. Sergey wanted to shout, bellow at the top of his lungs what was in his head and his heart, but what he felt couldn’t be translated into words, and when he tried, everything got choked in the hollow of his throat. Now,nowwas the time to act. To say something. “What if…” He hesitated. “What if I want it to happen again?”
Sasha froze, going so still so suddenly Sergey wondered if time had stopped, if the earth had ceased its rotation. Sergey tried to breathe, but his lungs wouldn’t work, and he mouthed over old air as he struggled for something, anything to say. He’d made a mistake. He’d made aterriblemistake.
Between one blink and the next, Sasha moved, twisting and turning to Sergey. He quivered, his entire body a wordless question. His wide eyes darted over Sergey, from the sand beneath his knees to his burning gaze. His hands clenched as his jaw hung open, speechless in a way Sasha never was. Beneath his borrowed black undershirt, his chest heaved, rising and falling in a too-fast rhythm.
“After you left…” Sergey fumbled, and he cursed under his breath. His hands dug into the damp sand again, fisting around grains that slithered away from him. “You changed everything, Sasha. What you did—” His breath blasted from him.
“I have been a coward my whole life. I hid from what I could have felt, burying it until I forgot I even was capable of this. I forced myself to not think it, never, not ever. And then you came along, and I did not even know that everything within me had changed. You were like the final piece of a puzzle I never knew I was building. I did not even know it was complete until you left, and everything came apart.” Swallowing, Sergey tried to get a grip on his rambling. He wasn’t making sense. He took a breath. “Jack calls it bisexual,” he said slowly. “He says that is what I am. How I feel. That I can love both.” He glanced up, finding Sasha’s gaze.
Sasha looked absolutelydevastated.
Sergey felt a punch to his gut, a brutal blow that knocked the air from his lungs and made him dizzy, made his ears ring like an alarm had gone off inside his skull. He was wrong. Jack was wrong. Sasha didn’t feel that way for him.
