Page 53 of My Dark Horse Prince

I should.

He seems to want to own me, and that’s never been a good thing in my life. People can’t own people. Or, they can, but they shouldn’t. At least the other guys I dated weren’t blatant about wanting to possess me.

Maybe that’s what feels different.

He’s not just telling me what I want to hear—his confession that he saw me and his heart said mine felt raw. Honest. Real. It almost feels like he’s as lost as I am, just trying to navigate new waters, and for some reason, his words make me believe he wants something different than what I’ve had before.

I should be anxious about our kiss, about his fingers being tangled with mine, but for some reason, for the first time in my life, I’m not. Holding his hand feels right. It feels. . .safe.

When we finally reach his monstrous mansion and Aleks pulls into the garage, Kris and Aleks hop out and disappear faster than I even thought possible. I’m not even out of the car yet when she’s waving her phone at me, and they’re heading out the side door.

She pauses before leaving entirely. “I’m so very excited about your surgery.” She smiles. “Text me that info for your sister, and I’ll send her some money right away.”

After Grigoriy’s explanation about Aleksandr’s powers, I decide to go ahead and do it. If he can literally pull gold out of the ground, maybe they’re serious about it not being an imposition for them to help.

“I’m starving,” Grigoriy says.

“We just had lamb chebureki,” I say. “How could you possibly be hungry?”

“Did I mention that working magic leaves me ravenous?” His eyes drop to my mouth as the corner of his mouth turns up. “Though, now you mention it. I bet we have food inside.”

My stomach’s doing flips now, thanks to his smolder. “We could go out,” I say, “but you don’t have money.”

“Aleks gave me money.” He pulls a wallet out of his back pocket in a remarkably awkward way and flips it open, splaying a thick stack of bills. “And I have these little cards that everyone seems to take as well.” He seems baffled about why credit cards are accepted.

“It’s not that the card is money,” I say. “It’s that you pay with the card—that company pays for you—and then you pay all of the things they paid for back at the end of the month.”

He frowns.

It is kind of strange, now that I think about it. I wonder who came up with that?

“What kind of food do you like?” he asks.

“I have a smart phone,” I say. “I can see what places are close that have good reviews.”

Grigoriy snags the keys off the hook by the back door into the house and trots toward the drivers’ side.

“Whoa,” I say. “Not so fast.”

“Not so fast?” He turns. “Oh. Right.”

I expect him to give me the keys, but instead he comes back to stand near me and does nothing else. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to reach the car so I can take your crutches.”

I whap him with a crutch. “I don’t need that.”

“Ow,” he complains.

“Give me the keys.”

He cradles them next to his chest. “Why?”

“Because you don’t have a license, and even more importantly, you have no idea how to drive.”

He frowns, and then he ignores me, heading back toward the driver’s side. “First, you don’t have a license either. Everything of yours was taken. Secondly, yours is from Latvia. I doubt it even works here. And finally, I do so know how to drive.”

“Impossible,” I say.

---