Page 115 of Ruby Mercy

Her brows pull down into a ferocious scowl, her little shoulders bunched around her neck. “Take me back to Grandpa’s house! Now!”

“You’re tired,” I tell her, as if that will suddenly make her see reason. “You need some rest. Climb into bed and I’ll read you a story and—”

Suddenly, Yuliana tips her head back and lets out a bloodcurdling, ear-piercing scream.

On any normal day, I’d understand that Yuliana is having a hard time. She can’t control her emotions any more than I can control her. What I would do is try to comfort her through the situation and then do my best to reason with her when she is calm.

I don’t have the patience for that now. I’m hollow, absolutely scraped clean by this horribly shitty day.

Yuliana is still screaming when I pull out my phone.

Kirill answers immediately. “I knew you’d—What’s wrong?”

I want to tell him everything is fine and hang up the phone. Calling him was a mistake. I can take care of Yuliana on my own.

But the very thought of someone stepping in to help me right now—either by talking to Yuliana or pulling me into his strong arms and letting me nuzzle against his broad chest—is so appealing I could cry.

I sniffle and realize I already am crying.

“Rayne,” Kirill growls. “Tell me where you are. Tell me what you need.”

“You,” I rasp. “We’re at the hotel. Can you—Please come get us.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

41

RAYNE

Kirill bursts into the motel room, green eyes scanning for danger, his muscled body ready to fight. When he realizes it’s just me and a crying Yuliana, he relaxes.

Yuliana is swaddled in a pile of blankets she pulled off the bed. At the sight of Kirill, she draws a sheet tight around her shoulders and goes silent. Her wide eyes track his movements across the room to where I’m sitting in the plastic-covered recliner.

“Rayne.” He reaches for my hand. His calloused fingers feel just as comforting around mine as I imagined they would. It takes all of my self-control not to sink into the warmth of his body and weep.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called you. I didn’t—I shouldn’t have. I don’t know why I—”

He pulls me to standing and wraps an arm around my waist. “Never apologize for calling me again.”

I nod dumbly.

“Just answer my questions,” he continues. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head.

“Is Yuliana hurt?” he asks in an even quieter voice.

I shake my head again.

He blows out a breath. “Good.”

We’re fine. I overreacted. I burn with shame that he’s seeing me so miserably desperate.

“You can leave if you want,” I tell him.

“The only way I’m leaving this room right now is if you come with me.”

The last hour has been a scene out of a bad movie. It feels like I’ve been stumbling through some terrible nightmare. But now, with his warm arms around me, Kirill feels remarkably real. He’s the first solid, tangible thing I can hold and trust. I’m not ready to let him go.

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