Page 5 of Dance with Death

I’ve never been afraid of this man.

Not until now.

I keep my eyes on him as he rushes forward, his hair falling in ruffled pieces across his creased forehead. I flinch as he pulls his arm back, fist raised, his lips snarling and baring his teeth.

He’s coming aftermenow.

I roll Anya onto her back on the cold marble floor to get her out of the way as I rise up to my knees, ready to defend myself. But I’m so jarred by what’s just happened, so off-centered by it, that my reaction is slow and pointless.

His fist collides with my cheek, his knuckles bumping into the side of my nose as he follows the throw of his punch all the way through. He hits me so hard that my head throws to the side, catching me off-balance. I put my hands out to catch my fall to the floor and my palms land with a smack against the marble.

I shake my head, throwing off the reverberation of the hit, and I push up to my knees again.

Nikolai doesn’t say a word to me.

He doesn’t spare another glance.

He doesn’t grant another opportunity for insult.

He walks away with Vigo Vittori, heading up the grand staircase with sharp, quick strides. I take a steadying breath, watching, waiting, until he turns and disappears from our sight at the top of the stairs. Silence gives way to noise and stillness returns to movement.

As I turn to help Anya, I find she’s already pushing up to a sitting position, powerfully using adrenaline to fuel her independence. Black streaks from her tears stain her face, remnants of the make-up she wore last night.

I reach for her face, holding her head still so I can search her eyes, but she’s already sheathed her blues in ice. As I brush the tears on her cheeks with my thumbs, I practically jump out of my skin at the unexpected touch of gentle fingertips on my shoulder.

A woman crouches beside me. I notice Anya’s eyes widen as I turn to look at the person who appeared suddenly at my side. Renata Vittori balances gracefully on her haunches in her high heels, wearing a perfectly tailored pant suit.

The side of her mouth curls up and her tongue clicks. “Heartbreaking how quickly he’s destroyed you both. A shame really, your performance was stunning. I was looking forward to next year’s entertainment. I suppose all things come to an end, though, don’t they?”

“Leave us alone,” Anya growls.

I’m surprised by her demeanor, though I understand it. She speaks through clenched teeth, jaw tight, rage and hurt painting a dark shadow over her beautiful features.

My hands fall from her face as Renata forces her way in, lifting Anya’s chin with two fingers. “If my brother purchases you, you won’t feel quite so confident in your tone with our family. If you thought Nikolai had a firm hand with you…” she trails off, jerking her hand away, causing Anya’s head to bob.

Renata uses my shoulder to push herself back to her feet and she strolls away, heels clicking on the marble. She glances over her shoulder at me and the corner of her mouth curls up, giving me a look I can’t decipher. But it’s a look that makes my stomach hurt.

Anya starts to shift onto all fours and I rush to her on my knees, putting my hands on either side of her waist, whether to stop her or to steady her, I don’t even know.

“Get me out of here,” she huffs through a heavy breath. “Get me out of here, Ezra.”

I nod though she isn’t looking at me. “Where?”

“To my room, take me back to my room.”

“Okay,” I agree, and rise to my feet.

Anya doesn’t wait for me to help her; she’s slowly crawling forward, wincing as her injured ankle slides over hard, cold ground. She’s as stubborn as ever in her independence.

“Stop,” I tell her as I bend down to grip her sides. “Come here.”

I pluck her from the floor with ease. Her tiny frame, my strength, and the fury inside me make it considerably easy to lift her. I turn her against me as I hold her and she latches her hands around my neck. She’s huffing out breaths of pain, as though she’s laboring through it. I don’t even want to try to imagine the hurt she feels right now. One glance at her quickly bruising and swollen ankle tells me it’s not right. I can’t say for sure whether it’s broken, but it’s definitely not fucking right.

Kostya follows as I step onto the staircase. “She goes to her room, you go to yours,” he says.

I ignore him and keep moving, shaking my head in disbelief that he thinks I’m just gonna drop her off and leave her. He’s gonna have to fight me if he wants to separate me from her.

I take Anya up the grand staircase, feeling the eyes of guests upon us.

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