Page 55 of Jewel of the Assassin
“Good to know I’m not the only one who gets their head plunged into ice water,” I mutter, yawning again, not denying how much I love his arms around me, cocooning me. “I guess sleeping naked also means fewer laundry loads.” No pajamas or underthings to wash. Not that I would wash anything.
“Indeed. Sleep, Valentina.” He kisses the back of my head. “I will be with you.”
I have no strength to protest. All adrenaline has circled the drain.
My subconscious pulls me away from the waking world. I crash hard. And I don’t even dream.
20
Anton is getting closer
ROMAN
Night falls like a blade. Beyond the window, thunderclouds betray the coming storm. We’ve slept most of the day.
Valentina’s still beside me, breathing steadily. Her skin gleams silver in the moonlight spilling through the window—marred only by my bruises.
I slide from the bed, careful not to shift the mattress. The first thing I do is retrieve the morphine dose from the drawer, check the vial, and draw just enough into the syringe to keep her under for another twelve hours.
After what I did to her body, she needs more sleep. Real, healing sleep.
I press a kiss to her temple, then inject her. She winces, but my wife falls back asleep instantly.
“Rest, my Jewel,” I murmur. “You’re safe. And mine.”
She sighs, like she heard me. Like she agrees.
I pull on black slacks, tie a cotton robe loosely around mywaist, and take one last look at her—this firestorm of a woman I dragged into my darkness. She’s already adapting to my world. But I won’t let it consume her. I’ll burn everything else down before I letherburn.
Doing so means keeping a keen eye on my father and brother and their affairs, including their affiliates. Or my father’s targets. Just because I refused to take his commission doesn’t mean someone else won’t do the job.
They are not aware of the small empire I’ve built. I’ve taken great pains and money to ensure it, including bribing government officials to keep planes from flying overhead, except for the ones I permit. The only way off the island is by puddle jumper.
I step into the hall just as Father Mikhail emerges from the shadows like a ghost in his cassock.
“She still sleeps?” he asks, his voice low, cautious.
“For now.” I keep walking, but of course, he follows.
“You’ve still told her nothing.”
I stop. Turn. My arms, firm at my sides. “You’re a priest, Mikhail. Stay in your lane.”
He sighs, folding his hands behind his back. “Even as a priest, I’m not blind. You know this deception will rot through whatever bond you’re forming with her.”
“She waspromisedto me,” I grit out, stepping closer. “For decades, I bled. And for six years, I prepared everything for her. And my father had the gall, the utter disrespect, to hand over what was rightfully mine by our clan laws. And my younger brother—” My voice hardens. “He tried to take what was always mine.”
Mikhail studies me. “You’d rather be Cain than let her go.”
“If that’s what it takes.” I ball my hands into fists. “It’s done. The vow’s broken. The past burned. You’ve already seen what she is. How significant. How she’s molding herself to this world like it was always meant to fit around her.”
He nods slowly. “Which is why you shouldtell her even more, Roman. Not less. Trust that she’llbreakthat mold—and become something even greater.”
His words sting, but not enough to wound. I clench my jaw. “She will know when I choose. I’ll give her the truth—on my terms.” I pause. “But I appreciate your honesty. I’d never forbid you from speaking it.”
Mikhail inclines his head. “My loyalty is to you. You know why.”
“I do. And I don’t take it lightly.” I grip his shoulder, chest tightening. “But remember who I am to this island. I am king here. And kings don’t share their thrones.”
