Page 74 of Blood Oath Christmas
They nod and retreat to a position where they can still see us but can't hear our conversation. I turn back to Ivy, who's leaning against the gazebo railing, cheeks flushed from the cold and exercise.
"This is beautiful," she says, looking out over the winter landscape.
"It is." But I'm not looking at the view. I'm looking at her and the way the cold has brought color to her cheeks, how her eyes sparkle in the morning light, and the way her chest rises and falls with each breath.
She turns and catches me staring. The air between us shifts, becomes charged with the attraction that's always simmering just beneath the surface.
"Konstantin…" she starts, but whatever she was going to say is lost as I step closer.
"You're beautiful," I tell her, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her breath catches, and I can see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. The space between us disappears as I lean down, my lips finding hers in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens.
She responds immediately, her hands fisting in my jacket as she pulls me closer. The cold morning air fades away, replaced by the heat building between us. I back her against the gazebo post, my hands framing her face as I kiss her with all the pent-up desire I've been fighting.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard, and it has nothing to do with the run.
"We should—” she begins.
The sharp crack of gunfire cuts through the morning air. Pain explodes through my shoulder, spinning me around as the bullet tears through flesh and muscle.
39
IVY
The crisp January air fills my lungs as I match Konstantin's steady pace along the wooded trail behind his estate. I can't believe how much I've missed this—the rhythmic pounding of my feet against the packed earth, the burn in my muscles, the way my mind clears with each stride. For weeks, I've been cooped up inside, and I hadn't realized how much the confinement was affecting me until now.
"You're smiling," Konstantin observes, his voice barely winded despite our brisk pace. Even while jogging, he manages to look effortlessly powerful, his long legs eating up the ground with predatory grace.
"I forgot how good this feels," I admit, stealing a glance at his profile. The morning sun catches the sharp angles of his face, and I feel that familiar flutter in my stomach. "Thank you for letting me do this."
His green eyes find mine, and the intensity there makes me stumble slightly. "You don't need to thank me for taking care of you,moya zhena."
The possessive way he says “my wife” sends heat coursing through me, and I have to focus on my breathing for reasonsthat have nothing to do with the exercise. Even after everything we've been through, the way he looks at me, like I'm something precious he'd kill to protect, makes my heart race faster than any run ever could.
But then Konstantin's entire body goes rigid, and he snarls a vicious curse in Russian that I've never heard before.
The world tilts as his massive frame slams into me, driving me to the ground with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. His body covers mine completely, one hand cradling my head to protect it from the impact, the other braced against the ground.
"Stay down," he growls against my ear, his voice deadly calm despite the chaos erupting around us.
Another crack splits the air, and this time I know exactly what it is. My blood turns to ice as I hear the whistle of something passing overhead.
Konstantin rises from me in one fluid motion, staying low as he reaches behind his back. The gun appears in his hand like magic, and I'm struck by how natural it looks there, like an extension of his body. This is the man I married. Not just my protective husband, but aPakhan, a leader who's survived in a world where violence is currency.
More shots ring out, and Konstantin returns fire with deadly precision. The sound is deafening, and I press my face to the cold ground, my hands instinctively moving to cover my stomach. The gesture is automatic, protective, and it sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the January air.
Shouts echo through the trees. Konstantin's men, I realize, as Viktor's voice booms orders in rapid Russian. The gunfire intensifies, a terrifying symphony of violence that makes my ears ring and my stomach churn.
Then, as suddenly as it began, silence falls.
I hear footsteps, voices calling out in Russian, but I don't dare lift my head until Konstantin's hand touches my shoulder.
"It's over,solnyshko," he says softly. "You can get up now."
I push myself to my knees, my hands shaking as I brush dirt and leaves from my clothes. "Are you—” The words die in my throat as I see the dark stain spreading across his gray T-shirt.
"Oh, God, Konstantin!" I scramble to my feet, reaching for him. "You're bleeding!"
