Page 106 of Dance with Death

Ezra’s hands skim my curves as he slips the broken dress down, peeling it from my body. His gentle touch ignites my soul and wakes me up, bringing me back fully from the dead into screaming, urgent life.

But as he quickly dries me with a white towel, I feel…confused.

Ezra has come to save me, but this is no rescue if I’m returned to my former master. Though, the alternative was to have died in the clawfoot tub on my right. I glance over at it as Ezra helps me remove my shoes.

He wraps one of Vigo’s plain, white dress shirts around my back, bringing the sides together in front of me. I let my arms fall so he can button the shirt over the top of them. It’s not perfect, but it’s dry clothing that will cover me until he can cut the cable ties.

“Shoes. Fuck, how do I get you shoes?”

“I don’t need shoes. I’ll go barefoot.”

“We’re going outside, Anya.”

“I’m a ballerina. My feet are already destroyed from dance. I really don’t care, just forget about the shoes and get me out of here.”

Get me out of here…and take me back to my former master?

How on Earth has Nikolai become the master I prefer?

What is wrong with me that I feel relief?

He nods. “Then just stay with me, okay?”

“I’m always with you, E.”

He freezes, locks in on me.

“Say it again, A.”

His strong hands grip my cheeks and he presses in close. I snatch my bottom lip between my teeth as he lowers his face to mine.

“I’malwayswith you,” I tell him again.

His tongue sweeps out to lick his lips and then he kisses me, a slow gradual press that turns into a possessive bruising. I part my lips to seek his tongue and he gives it easily.

I could be under the water right now and still be able to breathe with the way he kisses me. His kiss breathes life back into me, and I only wish I could put my arms around him right now. But the kiss ends far sooner than I want it to, because ithasto, because we need to leave.

He leads me out of the bathroom, out through Vigo’s bedroom, but I freeze in the doorway, taking a step back in fear.

Blood.

Everywhere.

It pours from Vigo’s leg.

It drips down Nikolai’s outstretched arm.

One master holding the other at gunpoint.

“Her hands are bound,” Ezra says.

Nikolai dares a single glance back at me. He double-takes as he sees me with my wet, tangled hair, dressed only in an oversized dress shirt, barefoot.

“Bring her here,” Nikolai commands.

Ezra grips my elbow, pulling me forward beside him. I follow his lead, glad to have it when I feel so overwhelmed, so exhausted, so weary.

We come up beside Nikolai and he hands the gun to Kostya. Then he turns to me, giving me a once over as I do the same. I feel like cowering in front of him. He’s covered in blood, disheveled, his eyes wild and unhinged. I can’t believe he’s kept his temper so controlled—it’s so unbelievable that I’m certain he’ll unleash it upon me any second now.

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