Page 105 of Dance with Death

He squeezes me tighter and bends to capture my lips as I look up at him. It’s a quick, soft kiss to my lips followed by harder, more insistent kisses to my cheeks, forehead, and hair. I realize then that he’s trembling, too, though his must be from the rush of chemicals in his veins as he came upon this horrifying scene and worked to save me.

“You saved me.” I blink at him in awe.

His chest still heaves with the heavy breaths of exertion from freeing me, from seeing me nearly drown in the tub. But a slow, charismatic, and undeniably characteristic smile spreads across his face, lighting up his eyes, and the world has never looked brighter.

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked so happy to see me.”

He makes me smile. I was just knocking on death’s door and still, Ezra makes me smile.

Though I want to remain in his arms forever—with his warmth enveloping me and his smile brightening me—I’m quickly coming back to life. With that returns the realization that time is not on our side in this life.

“What now?” I ask.

“Can you stand? Walk?”

I’m still breathless, but I manage a nod. “I can. I can run if you need me to.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I might need you to. Hang on, stay right here. Don’t move.”

I don’t question him.

My faith in him is so strong right now that I’ll do whatever he says, because he found me, hesavedme. I nod my understanding as fervently as I can, which is to say, barely at all.

Carefully, he lifts me from his lap and sets me down on the tile. He slips out from beneath me and slowly stands, his hands never leaving my body, not for a second, as he turns and bends to face me. He makes sure I’ve got enough balance not to topple over as he props my back against the wall. I watch him the entire time, trying to understand when I became so helpless and needy, when I gave over my trust to him so completely.

When he brought you back from the dead.

He gives me a hurried grin and I smile back.

“I love you,” I tell him, because the words just have to come out.

“I love you,” he says quickly with a bright flicker of flame behind his eyes.

He dashes past the bathroom doorway and rushes into Vigo’s bedroom. “She needs dry clothes.” I hear Ezra say to someone.

Moments later, there’s a response. “Here. This is best we can do. Hurry.”

Kostya?

Ezra returns almost immediately, clothing laid over his arm. He crosses the room and sets them on the countertop before he turns toward me. His eyes dart around the room until he sees the towels resting on the bar on the wall across the room. He hurries to grab one and adds it to the pile on the countertop. He comes to me and crouches to his haunches and dear God, I can’t stop looking at him.

“We need to get that dress off you and into these dry clothes, okay? We have to hurry.”

“We’re really leaving? You really found a way for us to escape? Did Kostya help?” I’m so hopeful with the urgent way he speaks, the way his body rushes through the movements.

He puts his arms around me and lifts me from the floor until I’m standing upright before him, drenched and trembling in his hold. I sway a little from the quick transition from sitting to standing, but he keeps me steady.

“It’s not…This isn’t a real escape, Anya. But I am getting you the fuck away from the Vittoris.”

I shake my head as his eyes skim over my dress, trying to figure out the best way to remove it when my arms are still bound in front of me with a cable tie around my wrists. He finally decides upon tearing the straps, slipping his fingers beneath the one on my right shoulder, and giving a sharp tug to break the thin piece of fabric.

“I don’t understand.”

He reaches for the other strap and rips that one, too. “Nikolai. He sent me for you.”

“Nikolai.” My face contorts in confusion. “Nikolai Mikhailov? The man who called me a slut and a whore and sold me to Vigo?”

Ezra puts a finger to his lips to hush me, lowering his voice. “He’s in the hall. We need to hurry.”

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