Page 33 of Dance with Death

“Show me respect or I will hurt you in all the ways I hurt Anya.”

The way he hovers there, wavering deep in my personal space for more than an awkward beat, chills me, freezing my spine straight. He pulls his head back and gives me a secret grin, an expression that I’m sure will haunt my dreams.

And then he lets me go.

“Come,” he says, turning and walking away. “You’ll stay in Anya’s room. Kostya will retrieve your belongings after he shackles Sasha for the night.”

“Anya’s room?”

He stops and looks down at the floor, hesitating before glancing back over his shoulder at me. “The room thatwashers. She won’t be coming back to claim it.”

The hesitation was too obvious for him to hide.

Does some part of him miss her, too?

Does he regret making the worst mistake of his life?

Does he regret washing away the only color in this gray world?

Anya was that color.

She was bright sapphire eyes, rosy pink lips, burgundy and bronze cheeks. She was hickory and mocha hair, and honey skin. She was sparkling white and glacial blue, frozen beneath her protective layer of ice.

Anya.

Where are you?

What are they doing to you?

The reminder that my blue-eyed girl is gone slices across my heart, stopping it for several beats and suddenly, overwhelmingly weakening me. It makes me tired, too tired to fight anymore tonight. The ache of it lifts from my chest, rising to a lump in my throat, swirling around my mind and squeezing my brain in an aching vice.

My body takes over for my mind, my feet moving me forward to follow Nikolai down the hallway.

I hear Sasha scream, hear her fight Kostya, and then there’s the slamming of the door that makes me jump.

I feel sad for the girl, I truly do. But I’m doing all I can for her by complying.

We reach Anya’s room.

Not her room. Not anymore.

Nikolai unlocks it with a key. It had never been locked before, not as far as I knew. Anya had been with Nikolai for so many years that she’d earned his trust and the freedom to move about the manor as long as she obeyed.

But now he uses a key.

It’s smart.

He shouldn’t trust me.

He opens the door and lets me pass and I halt three steps past the threshold. The room looks the same as the night we left it. The bed sheets are still rustled and twisted from the night of passion we shared. My tuxedo and her bright pink dress from the reception are still haphazardly discarded on the floor. The pillows I’d propped beneath her injured ankle are still piled on the bed.

Nikolai hasn’t touched a damn thing since she left.

But why?

“She’s gone.” His voice behind me is far too soft. “She’s not coming back. And it’s because of you.”

I whip around to face him but remain silent, brooding.

---